#managed to run a household of nine people for almost two weeks

[skyward-floored]

Its okay to be upset when you don't get things done as soon as you want them to.

But I do look forward to your links meeting au! Yours and a couple others have really inspired me to try and start my own!

I sadly haven't gotten far at all with it this year but hey next year is another chance! That's what I try to think of it as.

I guess I just had high hopes as far as projects and other things this year, and now that I’m looking back I realize I didn’t really... do that much. I mean a lot of circumstances were out of my control, and I’ve said before that the past 2-3 years have been a personal mess for me, but still. ‘Tis annoying.

Anyway you didn’t ask for that rant heh. Thank you! I’m glad I inspired you at least :)

[warningsine]

At least 11 people have died and 13 others are missing in torrential rains in Beijing as China braces for the third typhoon in as many weeks.

The remnants of last week's super storm Doksuri flooded Beijing for the fourth straight day on Tuesday even as another typhoon approached the eastern coast.

More than 50,000 people in the city have been evacuated so far, according to state media.

The flooding has hit several districts, disrupting train services and traffic.

At least a dozen people were killed in the Philippines and Taiwan as Doksuri passed through at the end of last week on its way to China.

Heavy rains are likely to persist this week, and flooding could worsen in northern regions around Beijing, Tianjin and Hebei province, the emergency management ministry has warned.

At least nine people have died in Hebei, officials say.

Relentless rain over the weekend broke daily precipitation records at 14 weather stations in Beijing and the northern provinces of Hebei, Shanxi and Shandong.

Chinese authorities have not announced an official toll of victims or reported how many are missing outside the capital city.

Military helicopters were deployed in the early hours of Tuesday to deliver emergency food supplies and ponchos to people stranded in and around a train station in the hard-hit Mentougou district in western Beijing, CCTV reports.

Around 150,000 households in the district are reported to be without running water.

Nearly 400 flights on Tuesday were cancelled and hundreds delayed at Beijing's two airports, according to flight tracker app Flight Master.

Footage shared online by residents in the surrounding Hebei province show swathes of land engulfed by floods.

Residents in several neighbourhoods in Hebei's Zhouzhou county have reportedly been trapped, some for almost 24 hours, as rescue workers are unable to reach them.

On Monday, state television published a clip of the dramatic rescue of a man clinging to an overturned car caught in raging floodwaters in Wu'an city, also in Hebei. The man and his car were pinwheeling down a flooded river before he was lifted to safety by a helicopter.

Like many parts of the world, China has been seeing extreme heat and rain in recent weeks, which some scientists have linked to climate change.

Doksuri made landfall in China's south-east Fujian province on Friday, triggering landslides and floods before moving north towards the capital. Hundreds of thousands of Fujian residents were evacuated.

Doksuri, which came a week after typhoon Talim, also led to mass closures of schools and workplaces across the province.

China's Meteorological Bureau said Beijing saw a deluge of about 170.9mm (6.7in) between Saturday night and noon on Monday, the equivalent of the average rainfall for the entire month of July.

There is little relief with typhoon Khanun on the horizon. It is expected to enter the East China Sea on Wednesday before moving to China's coastal provinces, Zhejiang and Fujian.

[ribcages-and-bookpages]

One Day At A Time

Year x438, June 22nd,

  It had been six long months since Rowan's life changed forever, but before I tell you what he's up to now, let's cover what he's been through over the years. First, an abusive household that was not progressive and then forced Rowan, who was Ramona at the time, to stay in the closet about being trans and bisexual through the fear of reprimand. Then, his mother was killed, and he was blamed, so he ran away that night and started a new life in Colkirk. Colkirk is an abandoned mining town that mined coal for about three years before it went alight, and it has continued to burn for the last 500 years. All attempts to stop the burn have only worsened it, or the results didn't last more than a day, and many have died in this town from the many pitfalls that have been opening up around homes as the homes sink into the ground and often from murder as well. Since rather unsavory people occasionally set up camp here in an attempt to rob anyone who gets lost in the smoke around the town. 

  At first, it was hell for young Rowan, who had only recently discovered his magic two years before he ran away, and although he was knowledgable in most weapons his father produced, he had never wielded any of them and had none with him besides a singular dagger. But that didn't stop him. Instead, on the first day away from his old home, he sold his diamond earrings and then began buying out the campers that were set up around Colkirk so they would leave him alone. This was so he could buy himself some necessities such as; a haircut, some weapons, some 'masculine' clothes, and even a small amount of food. Rowan stayed here for one year, unbothered by the campers and finding himself while also training himself to survive in this world; he had to, he was a trans man in a world filled with hatred and wars over these kinds of things, and he had to start his life from scratch and alone.   

   Now 17 years old, Rowan moved to Willowdale after buying himself a small one-bedroom house there, deciding it was a good home base since it is one of the kingdom's slightly larger cities, although still rather small compared to cities such as Runswick, and it's populated by many families and is a very family oriented city with middle-class wealth. During his first week there, he applied to the three bakeries in the city since it was the only skill he had besides his magic and fighting abilities, but two of the three denied him for lack of experience professionally. Lucky for him, the third gave him a chance, and his life began to improve from that point on as he made a friend through work named Brooke Keno. The two became best friends quickly, and Brooke helped Rowan transition while staying by his side while he figured it out. Meanwhile, Rowan was there for her when her parents died in a sailing accident, and none of her family wanted to take her in, so Rowan did. They started dating a few years later and have been together since. He proposed to her nine months before current events.

  But the last six months took a dark turn, and the world has not been kind; Brooke was killed. Soon after, he went and began to hunt down the men who killed her; only to find out they were with a much bigger organization, and he had to go on the run. And this all started with one fateful encounter at the bakery; Some men had come in and were trashing the place and harassing the female customers, so Rowan asked them to leave, but they refused and assaulted Rowan, who kept his cool until his manager gave him the okay. He then beat both men until they fled in fear and threatened to get their boss, 'Lady Skel,' to 'put him in his place.' Rowan simply scoffed in return at their threat and said, "Do it, coward.". And so they did.

  A week later, Rowan came home to find all the lights off, and the door was broken like it was kicked in but was almost closed when Rowan approached. Inside, he found Brook ripped to pieces and her blood staining every surface surrounding her corpse, and a note. It was partially folded in half and read, 'Know your place, or it'll be you next.' So, Rowan held a funeral for Brooke and skipped town a few days later after finding a ride on an Ovritbus that took him to Leurbost. Leurbost is a large city near the edge of the Northeast side of the continent and is most known for its great ships and its very large market just past the shore. It's also known to be the place to go to disappear since people are constantly in and out of the city, and it's hard to keep track of whose staying where and at what time. This was to make sure anyone following him lost him, and he began to formulate a plan to strike back. After some thorough searching, questioning, and some extreme measures, Rowan found the men responsible for Brooke's death and eventually turned them over to the knights of The kingdom of Oburus. Soon after that, the men were publicly executed, as they were wanted men by the Queen of Oburus, Queen Madhyrth.

  Rowan found the verdict satisfying, but when he was thanked for his efforts to bring the men down, he realized the truth behind the men's threat. Yes, they killed her, but they were commanded by others to do so, and those 'others' were a group terrorizing the Kingdoms and taking over cities for their own dark purposes. Not only that, they were ruled by a cruel woman named 'Lady Skel' who would kill anyone who got in the way of whatever goal she had her mind set on. No one had ever seen her, no one that's ever lived to tell about it, anyway, so it was impossible to find her. This didn't make Rowan regret his choices, but it did make him realize how much danger he was in, as well as anyone around him, and obviously, they had no trouble killing someone. He spent the next two weeks getting things together before skipping town once more and heading for Willesden, hoping that if anyone followed him, he could lose them through the forest surrounding the city or be able to take them down before reaching the city to buy himself some more time to figure out what to do; and that's where the real adventure beings. 

  Currently, Rowan found himself traveling through the forest outside the city of Willesden as he hummed a small tune to himself and gazed around at his surroundings. He had on a very slightly baggy dark grey tank top and black cargo pants, matched with an oversized black leather jacket, a pair of mid-calf length work boots, and, finally, complete with a large leather bag on his back. His steps were almost silent as he made his way through the forest, a perk from his fairy genes, and listened closely to his surroundings.

   As he broke through the tree line, he began to hear music and felt deep confusion and curiosity that caused him to tilt his head and furrow his brows as he attempted to pinpoint its source. He followed the music and found himself at the center of the city of Willesden, as citizens danced the streets as music and laughter filled the air. The air smelled of various foods from the carts around the main square of the city, as well as various kinds of alcohol. 'A festival, maybe?' He wondered, but Rowan quickly found himself distracted from his thoughts as a woman who was dancing pulled him into the chaos and urged him to join them in dance. At first, he was hesitant and tried to escape, but he found himself in the center of the dancing circle as another woman joined the first one and spun Rowan, which caused a small chuckle to leave him, and he joined the others in dance. He was having a good time for the first time in a while as he allowed the music to flow through his body and influence his movements earning some cheers as others continued to dance around him. But as he did a half turn to the right, he spotted a male with silver hair and tattoos who was well dressed and leaning on a wall as he watched everyone dance. He had a sour expression on his face as he watched them, but as he noticed Rowan looking at him, he quickly averted his gaze to the ground and turned his head away. The male shoved off the wall with his back and disappeared into the crowd, although Rowan had little time to think about him as he was quickly brought back into the dancing with the townspeople. 

  Rowan was dancing with the people of Willesden for a bit longer before he realized, based on how exhausted he was, then he began to make his way away from the town square and to one of the inns in the city. He found himself pausing though as he passed a tavern and noticed a certain silver-haired man bartending inside, 'Huh. Wasn't expecting that to be his job. I don't know what I was expecting, but still.' He hummed softly to himself as he continued his walk toward his chosen inn for the night. As he stopped in front of the inn, he found himself glancing back at the tavern before shaking his head and heading inside the inn. He approached the innkeeper and gave a small lopsided smile while his eyes shined from the light of the light fixture above him, "Hey, you got any rooms available for the night?" He hummed in question as he stopped in front of the desk. He then shifted the bag on his shoulders; which had begun to ache from the long trip, before glancing down, then regained eye contact again as the innkeeper began to respond,

  "Sure do! I've got three single bedrooms and two double bedrooms. Which would ya prefer?" Asked the friendly gray-haired man with deep wrinkles as he smiled in return at Rowan. Rowan then paused for a moment to consider his options before shrugging a bit, 

  "Let's do a room with a single bed. Just me anyways." He kept his smile as he began to pull out his wallet from his front pocket, and that's when the innkeeper noticed the chain attached to the wallet, which was also attached to Rowan's pants. The old innkeeper smiled bigger and looked at Rowan,

  "Well, isn't that handy!" He commented before moving to his log book and focusing on it as he tried to decide on a room; then he grabbed a key and turned towards Rowan, "Alright, that'll be eight hundred Wygen for one night; sound alright, young man?" He asked as he lifted his hand to accept the money Rowan pulled out. After it was placed in his hand, the old man offered his hand with the key to Rowan before dropping the key in his hand and then began to put the money away,

  "Yeah, Thanks, Have a good day." Rowan gave a smile before slipping the key into his pocket and headed for the door as the old innkeeper said goodbye. Rowan gave a small wave before heading out the door and going to find his room as he began to hum a tune to himself, "Maybe today won't be such a bad day after all... I mean, I guess it's hard to have a bad day when you dance with an entire city of people, but I'm sure life will find a way." He muttered to himself. Once he spotted the number that was the same one as the tag on the keys, he went over to the door and began to unlock it before opening it and heading inside. It was a red and gold-themed room with beige walls, red carpet, gold accents, and a red blanket over the end of the bed. There was also a small dining area for two people, and the bed could easily fit more than two if needed, and to the right of the sleeping area, there was a bathroom with a tub-shower combination that matched the same theme as the rest of the room with red and gold. Although the bathroom was small, everything was tidy and clean seeming, which meant Rowan wouldn't mind it too much.

   Rowan closed the door behind himself before moving over to the table and pulling out a chair; then, he took the bag off his back and rested it on the seat of the chair. He stretched with his arms above his head and groaned softly in response to feeling his muscles begin to relax from the constant strain of the bag. A sigh left Rowan as he then sat on the bed beside his bag and laid back on the bed, allowing his muscles to further relax, but he found his thoughts wandering back to the silver-haired bartender, 'He's pretty cute. Why did he look so mad about everyone dancing, though? I guess I could ask him...? Or I could go enjoy a drink and see if he's up for conversation, not like I've got anything else to lose.' He was pondering for some time about what to do. Eventually, he sat back up and gave a small nod at his own idea, then He got up and patted his pockets to make sure he had his room key before heading out the door. He then began to head back to the tavern from earlier. 

  Once he arrived, the sun was just starting to set, and the business was booming with activity, and he hesitated before going inside, unsure if he wanted to be around so many people. The tavern was mostly made of wood and had wood chairs and stools and had a bit of a homey cabin feel to it as patrons chatted amongst themselves and workers seemed to dance around the tables as they delivered drinks and food. After another moment of considering leaving, he noticed one of the only places left to sit was at the bar and finally swallowed that lump of fear and made his way over. He glanced up to the silver-haired male who was bartending, who paused and seemed to recognize Rowan from earlier in the day. Rowan gave a small and slightly nervous smile, accompanied by a small wave of his hand as he sat down at an empty bar stool, then looked up to the silver-haired male with that same nervous smile still on his face. He watched Rowan for a moment before setting down the cup he was cleaning and shifting his stance, 

  "What can I get you?" He asked with a small head tilt, which caused some of his hair to fall into his face; although a majority of it was tied up, many strands were loose. The other male had tattoos covering large portions of the exposed skin, but they were all done with a deep red ink that contrasted with the male's porcelain skin and silver hair. He also had some piercings, which also caught Rowan's attention immediately, now that they were so close, as well as the fact he was very well dressed. The silver-haired male was in a pair of black dress pants with a white dress shirt that had the sleeves rolled up halfway, then a black vest on top of that, and finished with a pair of black dress shoes and a red tie, which was the same red as his tattoos. Rowan realized he was staring as the bartender averted his gaze and shifted uncomfortably, 

  "Ah, sorry, I didn't mean to stare. I was just admiring your tattoos." He explained with a nervous chuckle as he rubbed his arm a bit, and the bartender seemed to relax a bit and nodded softly in response. Rowan paused as he tried to think of what he'd want to drink before turning his attention to the barkeep, "What would you recommend?" He asked finally with a small head tilt. The silver hair male paused as he looked up in thought and moved to lean his hands on the bar,   

  "Well, that depends. Do you want something like a sweet wine? Or is a rich ale more to your taste?" He questioned with a small head tilt of his own. Rowan pondered his options for a moment before looking at the other male,

   "Let's try a sweet wine, whatever you recommend. I don't drink much." He gave a sheepish smile and a nervous laugh, "Although I will say, the sweeter, the better." He told the barkeep, who then turned to the wall of booze behind him with a determined look on his face. The silver-haired male put one hand on his hip while he muttered to himself the options of wines before deciding on one with a blue label that had a delicately designed bottle and brought it over to Rowan. He opened the bottle with a quiet 'pop' noise and got a small sample cup, and poured a small amount into the cup before offering it to Rowan, 

  "Try this one; It's one of our sweetest. It's produced here in Willesden and is one of our most popular exports." He explained as his expression shifted to a small smile. Rowan nodded softly and smiled a bit in return as he felt his nerves settle a bit, 

  "Sounds good. I'd love to try it." He replied with excitement in his voice as he shifted to take his leather jacket off; he found it warm in the tavern due to all the people, and the kitchen was near the bar, so he felt the heat from that as well. Once his jacket was off, he laid it across his lap and turned his attention back to the barkeep, "May I ask your name? Mine is Rowan." He offered his name first in an attempt to make the other male comfortable, which seemed to work as the male opposite him smiled very softly. It was only visible for a moment, though, as he glanced down and forced the smile he had off his face,   

  "Aresidon, but everyone calls me Ares." He replied as he put the cork partially back into the wine bottle before turning back to Rowan with an expectant expression. Rowan looked down at the dark red liquid in the cup, then grabbed the cup and brought it to his nose for a quick sniff before taking a small sip. He paused as he swirled the wine around his mouth with an expression of surprise before swallowing it and relaxing his expression into a soft smile,

  "Well, Ares, you certainly were right about this one being sweet. It's probably my favorite I've tried so far." He hummed a bit as he took another sip. Ares couldn't help but smile slightly as he felt proud of himself, but as a customer leaned over to Rowan, Ares began to frown deeply. Rowan turned to look over at the man and raised a brow as he swallowed the rest of the sweet wine and set the cup down on the bar, "Can I help you?" Asked Rowan in a rather harsh tone, unamused already by seeing the man's drunken state.

  "You know he's a shifter, don't ya? Filthy animals.." Scoffed the stranger as he clumsily sat up, 'So he's even drunker than I thought.'. A small sigh left Rowan at this realization, and he shook his head,

  "No, I didn't know." He shifted to turn toward the man and glanced back at Ares, who looked devastated. This caused a feeling to stir in his chest, and Rowan huffed softly, "But that doesn't concern me. What concerns me is that some strange man is calling my new buddy a filthy animal and is obviously too drunk to even be able to sit up, so maybe you should be concerned more about how you're getting home rather than who I'm conversing with." He snapped at the man, who looked taken back at first, then began to stand up and made a noise that was a mixture of a growl and huff, leaving him,

  "I'm trying to help you, kid! But if you wanna be disrespectful, maybe I should teach you some respect." Threatened the man as he inched closer to Rowan. Rowan, on the other hand, stood up and stared up at the man who was easily half a foot taller than him; but he had no fear of this man; he had faced worse. Instead, as the man raised his fists, Rowan raised his hand and pulled a scythe seemingly out of thin air before quickly putting it around the man and pulling him closer. The blade began to slightly cut the man's skin which was just enough for blood come to bubble in some areas,   

  "And here's me helping you; leave before I cut you down where you stand. You disgusting drunkard." Hissed Rowan as venom dripped from his words and a fire burned in his eyes. His body was shaking with rage at this point, and he was desperately trying to hold back so he didn't kill the man where he stood. His blood was boiling; ' How dare he treat someone so poorly and then become angry just because It didn't bother me!' He was seething at this point, but the logical side of his brain was pulling him out of it so he didn't kill the man. Mostly just so he didn't have to go to jail or on the run, more than he already was anyways.

  As the man ducked under Rowan's scythe and ran out the door, although clumsily, Rowan realized the entire tavern had gone quiet, and he turned towards the room and dropped his hand off the scythe. It then dematerialized from existence before it could hit the ground. He then crossed his arms, "Does anyone else have a problem with who I'm talking to? I'll happily do to you what I told him I would do." He said with a large smile on his face, an unsettling and sinister smile as his hands balled up at his sides in an attempt to hide his shaking. Multiple shook their heads while the rest of the tavern uneasily returned to their conversations, likely about Rowan, but that wasn't his concern as he turned to Ares, "You alright? I hate people like that." He huffed quietly again as he picked his leather jacket up off the floor. He then shook it off before sitting back down on the bar stool. He laid his jacket back across his lap and raised his gaze to meet Ares, who looked to be a mixture of confused and surprised,

  "You don't care? I mean, about me being a shifter." Ares glanced away as he asked Rowan this. It seemed almost like he was afraid of the answer he may receive, but Rowan, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow and shifted in his seat to fully turn towards Ares,

  "Care about it? Not really. I mean, you're a person just like anyone else. Just because you're different doesn't give people the right to treat you like you are. Everyone should be treated kindly and with respect, well, unless they're a jackass like that guy." He cracked a smile at the end and glanced up at Ares. Ares, on the other hand, was staring at Rowan in what looked to be disbelief. It was quiet for a moment before Ares turned his attention to wiping some glasses that were sitting out to dry, his expression going neutral once again,

  "Well, that kind of thinking isn't common around here, so where are you from?" He asked in a softer tone than before; It wasn't as sharp and had a bit more emotion behind it than anything he had said previously. Rowan paused as he thought about the complications of the question, but also the change in his tone, then shifted again, although this time it was due to anxiety. On one hand, he couldn't trust people easily due to being wanted for his crimes toward Lady Skel and her minions, but on the other hand, Ares seemed to be trying to open up, and Rowan wanted to do the same. After all, he did think Ares was cute. 'Eh, fuck it. He seems trustworthy enough.' Rowan decided finally, as he then cleared his throat and looked to Ares, 

  "Well, believe it or not, I'm really originally from Bellmoral. That's where I was born, but Baycross is where I stayed for a while. And I worked in Westwind for a while, too; now I travel." He explained with a small nervous smile and some hesitancy in his voice, while Ares then held a bottle over his cup as he silently offered to refill the glass. Rowan gave him a small nod of confirmation, and Ares began to fill the cup as he responded,

  "Bellmoral? Yeah, you're right. I never would have guessed. You seem too laid back for that. Baycross seems right, though." He joked in a light tone since those who live in Baycross are seen as misfits with a laid-back lifestyle or those looking to escape reality and get lost in a good time. Bellmoral was the complete opposite in many ways; such as Bellmoral is much smaller and much more rural and is mostly mansions with dozens of miles of flowers, which are used for dyes. Bellmoral is also seen as cult-like and filled with rich, entitled people, and everyone knows everyone there. 

  Rowan chuckled softly and glanced down as Ares straightened the bottle up right before putting the cork halfway in it again; then he looked back up to Ares's face and gave him a small grin,

  "I do my best." He hummed but felt a pang in his heart '-Not to be like him.' He felt his thoughts begin to overwhelm him for just a moment, and everything became deafeningly loud, but he quickly overcame the feeling and pushed it down, "People are people, regardless of their differences, everyone has feelings, and everyone's feelings matter; except for specifically anyone living in Bellmoral. Bitches, all of 'em," Rowan said with a shake of his head. He looked back up to Ares and gave a small smile as he lifted his drink in a "cheers" motion, "Cheers to being away from that hell hole." He says in a light-hearted tone. Meanwhile, Ares was completely baffled by his behavior and stared at Rowan in surprise, then let a small chuckle escape him before using the glass he was cleaning to complete the "cheers" with Rowan, who then grinned and downed his glass of wine in two gulps before setting the cup down on the bar.

        He then smiled back up at Ares, "You're actually pretty cool for looking so grumpy earlier today." He hummed. He moved to lean his elbows on the table before placing his hands under his chin and focusing his gaze on Ares. The alcohol may be affecting him due to not eating since early this morning, but he was trying to pretend he didn't feel it; but unfortunately for him, his brain was becoming fuzzier, and it was becoming harder to focus entirely on Ares. He figured he'd sit this way to try and focus better, so his full attention was on Ares. Ares then paused as he finished rewiping the glass he had used for their 'cheers' and set it down before glancing up at Rowan. He seemed to consider what he wanted to say before sighing softly and grabbing another glass to wipe down, and glancing back up at Rowan,

  "Well, if almost everyone in the city treated you like an abomination, you would be grumpy too, wouldn't you?" He spoke in a soft tone, but there was some anger that laced his words. Ares was visibly upset by the topic they were on, and Rowan began to feel guilt creeping in, 'Maybe I should change the subject?' He began to think of other subjects or something to say to lighten the mood. After a moment of silence, Ares refilled Rowan's cup, and Rowan turned his gaze to Ares and nodded softly, 

  "Alright, fair enough. Too bad, though, I would have liked to see you dancing." Rowan paused as he realized what just came out of his mouth and could feel his face get a bit warm, then looked up to Ares, who looked shocked, "Ah, maybe I was a bit too forward, my mistake." He quickly added before looking down into his wine and staring at his reflection in the wine, wondering if he had made it awkward. But, as Ares recovered from his surprise, his expression relaxed into a small smile, 

  "It's okay, just surprised. I'm not used to the attention, is all." He explained in a sheepish tone as he kept his eyes primarily on the glasses he was cleaning and would occasionally glance up at Rowan. Meanwhile, Rowan turned his attention up and on Ares as a smile spread across his own face,   

  "So I have the go-ahead to flirt then?" Asked Rowan as his smile grew into a lopsided grin, and he chuckled softly, "I think the booze has gone to my head; I should get back to my room at the inn." He admitted in a soft voice as he turned away slightly and held a hand to his forehead. Ares watched Rowan for a moment as he tried to figure out what he wanted to say, then lifted his left arm and read the watch on that wrist, "I get off in ten minutes. Would you mind waiting? I'd like to walk you back." He timidly asked as his eyes darted away several times, unsure if he was overstepping any boundaries. 

  It took a few moments of processing before Rowan turned to look at Ares in surprise as he felt his face and ears starting to burn a bit from embarrassment, but that lopsided smile was back on Rowan's face as he nodded softly,   

  "Sure, could I have some water in the meantime?" He chuckled nervously after saying this, and he pushed his glass of wine slightly away from himself. A small amused hum left Ares as he set down a glass he had just finished cleaning and grabbed Rowan's cup of the bar, then put it in a bin under the counter that had some other dirty glasses in it. He then turned towards the cups hanging overhead and grabbed one, and began to fill it with water from the tap before handing it to Rowan. Rowan took the glass and began to drink some of it, and once he finished half of it, he set it back on the bar and hummed softly, "Water sure is good when you haven't had any yet today." He tried to joke, but he realized it fell flat when Ares stared at him with a judgmental expression instead of one of amusement. 

  Before either party could say anything, though, a woman with long and straight brown hair and magenta-colored eyes approached Ares from behind the bar, then put a hand on his arm to get his attention. Rowan noticed her finally and glanced at her dress before looking at Ares; as he jumped and turned towards the woman before relaxing,

  "Aresi, You can head out. Halnavi is here for her shift, so she can take over for you. Have a good night." She winked at Ares at the end, causing the male to stare at her in confusion. She sighed and shook her head, "You're so clueless sometimes, Aresi." She continued to shake her head as she took her hand off his arm and retreated into the back of the tavern. Meanwhile, Rowan was watching Ares and couldn't help it as a small smile was on his face while he was in thought, 'Man, he really is cute. Nice, too. He seems to have a bad rap here, but he seems sweet enough, especially walking me back to the inn. He could be a serial killer, though...Eh. Drunk or not, I think I can put up a pretty good fight, so maybe It'd be fine? Wait, how did I get to this? Oh shit, he's talking to me-.' Rowan snapped out of it as Ares began to speak to him, 

  "Well, if you're ready, we can head out now." He had a bit of a smile on his face, and Rowan could feel his face get slightly warm again. He found himself just staring and simply admiring Ares's smile but snapped out of it rather quickly and gave a small grin,

  "Yeah, let's go." He hummed as he put on his leather jacket and stood up. He quickly realized, though, that his legs felt a little strange, and he found himself becoming lightheaded, which caused his legs to dip a bit, but he didn't get a chance to recover before he felt an arm around his back and the flexing of muscles as he realized someone was holding him up. Rowan looked and noticed Aries had come to his rescue in a matter of just a few seconds and was easily holding the other up, and that's when he noticed two smells coming off of Ares. The first was clove, which Rowan thought was pleasant, while the other was booze, which actually didn't bother Rowan at all; it was almost pleasant with the clove mixing with it. 

  A nervous laugh left Rowan as he noticed the slightly concerned expression on Ares's face and shifted to stand up, " Sorry, I'm okay properly. Thank you." He said softly as Ares began to let go of him before stepping off to the side. The concerned expression had faded into a more neutral expression by this point, which was what his expression often was; at least, that's what Rowan had noticed through their conversation. Ares watched Rowan closely for a moment before dropping his shoulders just slightly and relaxing a bit more, and nodding, 

  "It's alright, just be careful on the way out; it's just one big step. Takes a lot of people out." Ares said with a hint of amusement in his voice as a small smile made its way onto his face, "Thought I'd warn you, just in case." He finished, and Rowan chuckled softly. The two began to make their way out of the tavern, and as they got to the door, Rowan opened it and carefully stepped down the step before turning to Ares with a lopsided grin,

  "Look, I made it." He threw his arms up in celebration. A small chuckle left Ares as he stepped down the step as well and stepped right in front of Rowan; he was so close their chests were almost touching; Rowan could smell mint on his breath and felt his brain become much fuzzier than it previously had been,

  "You sure did. Good job," Ares said quietly with a small smile, their faces inches from each other. Rowan could barely think, and everything he was thinking was starting to take a not-so-PG turn, so he didn't really trust his brain to let him do anything. Lucky for Rowan's heart, Ares stepped around him and looked up at the sky, "Oh, the moon is so big tonight." He seemed happy, although Rowan wasn't sure why his mood shifted so drastically. Rowan snapped out of his state of just staring at Ares when the silver-haired male turned towards him, and he quickly smiled to hide his nervousness,

  "Yeah, I heard an Eclipse is coming too, I think in a few weeks? At least, that's what I've heard while passing through cities. They say it's supposed to last just a few minutes, but it's like an annual thing? " He shrugged a bit and looked to Ares, who had lit up like a light at the turn in the topic. That's when it clicked for Rowan, 'He likes talking about astrology; that makes so much sense now. That's why he seemed happier out here.' He was snapped out of his thoughts as Ares began to speak,

  "Really? Do you know what day?" He sounded more expressive and almost excited now as he asked this and anxiously stared at Rowan for his answer.

   Although it warmed Rowan's heart to hear Ares sound excited, he couldn't focus on that and instead had to try to remember the day; luckily for his drunk mind, he suddenly remembered it and blurted it out,

  "August 3rd." He hummed, and Ares nodded quickly. Rowan couldn't help but smile softly at his behavior before turning towards the direction of the inn and glancing back at Ares, "Let's get going. I don't want to take up too much of your time tonight. I appreciate you walking me back to the inn, though." He told Ares with a small smile. As Ares began to walk in the direction of the inn, Rowan began to follow him but found himself looking at Ares as he started to speak,

   "I don't mind. You're the nicest person that I've met in a while. Most people have the same view as everyone else here, so I usually keep to myself." His voice became softer as he finished, and he found himself glancing at Rowan. Meanwhile, Rowan could feel his heart aching in his chest for Ares, 'I know how that feels...Maybe I could invite him in? Oh man, but what if he takes it the wrong way? I don't want him to think I just wanna hook up. Oh, Shit! I haven't responded to him.'. Once Rowan pulled himself from his thoughts, he turned to face Ares and noticed Ares was looking at him, and then realized they were at the Inn and Rowan had just almost run into a wall. He chuckled nervously and glanced away, 

   "Sorry, got lost in thought there. But uh, would you wanna come to my room? Just to talk." Rowan quickly added the last part, just so no assumptions were made, and moved to shove his hands into his pants pockets. He noticed Ares seem to tense up for a moment before relaxing when Rowan explained it would only be talking, then smiled softly and gave a small nod,

   "Sure." Ares agreed with a glance to the side. Rowan couldn't help it as he nearly made a squeak noise of excitement before turning his gaze to the ground and getting a lopsided grin,

   "Awesome." He responded in a soft tone, which earned a small chuckle from Ares as they neared Rowan's room. As the two made their way to the room, Rowan reached into his front right pocket and took out the room key before unlocking the door and opening it. Once inside, he flicked on the light switch, and the light fixtures in the room lit up. He turned to Ares with a small, lopsided smile and lifted his arms, "Welcome to my home for the night." He hummed. 

   Ares entered the room and began to look around while closing the door behind him, while Rowan made his way over to the bed and plopped down on it before unzipping his boots and kicking them off. Once Ares seemed to be done checking out the room, Rowan smiled softly and leaned back a bit as he used his hands for support, "You can sit where ever I don't mind." He shrugged. Ares nodded softly and grabbed a chair from the table in the room and turned it to face the room before sitting down, but paused as Rowan spoke, "So Ares," He started, but waited until Ares was settled in the chair before continuing, "Have you ever thought about leaving this city? I mean, it's nice and all, but it seems you don't like it here. So why not leave?" He asked with a head tilt. Ares paused and stared at the ground for a moment as he considered his next words. After a few moments of silence, he finally broke the silence,

   "Fear, I suppose. Here, I know what to expect. Out there? That's different. I've been out there before, and people are unpredictable and dangerous. Here is safe, and here is what I know." He was almost whispering with how low his voice was, almost like he didn't want to admit it. The two sat in silence for a moment as both processed what was said, and as Ares began to apologize, Rowan smiled,

   "But you know what else is out there? People that are better than the shitty ones here. Sure, not everyone is good, but you can find /your/ people. And if that's not the plan, then get out and see the world. It's big and beautiful and full of things to explore." He smiled gently at Ares, who once again became speechless at Rowan's words. After a long moment of eye contact, Rowan turned his gaze to the ground and chuckled nervously, "Sorry if that came off pushy. It's just...I can't stand to see someone so good, so unhappy." He dropped his smile, and his eyes became dark as emotions swirled in him. Ares was like him, suffering the abuse of others because leaving is so much scarier than staying, and it was breaking Rowan's heart to see. 

   Rowan was brought out of his thoughts by Ares' voice, 

   "Do you travel? Do you go see the world?" He asked in a similarly quiet tone, one with an emotion behind it that Rowan couldn't identify. The question itself caused Rowan to pause, and he focused on figuring out an answer for that rather than figuring out what Rowan's tone meant. 'Well, I can't tell him I went on a mission to kill the men that killed Brooke, so maybe I'll leave that part out.' He shifted to plop back on the bed, although his feet were still on the floor.

   "Well, that's a complicated question, but yes, in short." He sighed before sitting up and standing up but found himself becoming dizzy and stumbled forward, But he didn't feel any pain like he should have if he fell; he instead felt pressure on his arms and raised his gaze to see Ares. The other male had moved across the room and helped support Rowan at such a quick rate it was making Rowan's head spin more. Ares began to shift Rowan in his arms before helping Rowan stand up straight, but both froze as they ended up face to face. They could smell each other's breath; for Ares, it was mint, and Rowan was red wine, but luckily it didn't phase Ares at all. As a pink hue dusted Rowan's cheeks and he began to step back, Ares kept firm and began to speak,

   "Can I come with you?" He asked with a determined look and hoped to fill his voice. Rowan could feel his head spinning, and he almost felt like throwing up from the heat leaving his body as thoughts swirled in his mind about Ares, most of which were not quite PG. 'Damn alcohol.'.

   "C-come with m-me?" Rowan stuttered out in complete confusion as he attempted to pull his mind out of the gutter. Luckily for Rowan's poor heart, Ares assisted the other male in sitting on the bed once more, which resulted in Ares being in a kneeling position in front of Rowan,     

   "I want to travel with you." Explained Ares in a soft tone as he bashfully looked away to hide the small blush that made its way onto his face. Rowan stared at Ares in shock for a moment before shaking his head,

   "No. It's too dangerous. I'm not just your average traveler." He chuckled nervously and rubbed his arm a bit. Although he didn't really want to get into the details of why it wasn't safe, he would if it meant convincing Ares not to come with him, as much as he wanted him to. It was too dangerous with Lady Skel after him. 

   As Rowan looked up to meet Ares's gaze, he realized how disappointed Ares looked, although it was only for a moment before his expression went neutral again. Before Rowan could explain, Ares was already speaking,

   "Would it change your answer if I told you I don't mind? I mean, my life is already in danger every day I'm in this city. Besides, it sounds like it would be quite the adventure." He offered a small smile, but you could see the nervousness in his expression. Rowan paused as he weighed his options, 'On one hand, it might be beneficial to have someone by my side just from a survival perspective...But maybe I should tell him what he's getting into and then let him decide.' he finally broke the silence by letting out a heavy sigh,

   "You're welcome to join me, but before you decide, let me explain. You've heard of Lady Skel, right? The woman in Blackburn who's taking over the factories?" He paused to make sure Ares knew, and as he confirmed with a nod, Rowan continued, "Well, let's just say I got on her bad side. Lately, she's been sending her lackeys to follow me around, and then they try to kill me once I'm alone, and if you come with me, you'll be risking everything. So before you agree, think about it. They've already killed someone close to me.." Rowan turned his gaze to the ground. 

   The room was silent for some time as thoughts of past events swirled in Rowan's head;

Blood. He could smell blood. Lots of it; it was a strong and sickening smell. As the lights came on, all he could see was carnage; body parts were thrown about the room, and entrails left a trail into another room. The walls were painted with blood, and the wood floor was barely noticeable under all the blood. Everything was destroyed; the couch was flipped while the coffee table was broken and in pieces, but it didn't stop there. The apartment was torn to pieces, and it was almost impossible to tell who it was, but Rowan prayed it wasn't Brooke. Although, that prayer was cut short as he spotted Brooke's decapitated head resting on the kitchen counter. She was bruised and had multiple wounds all over her face, while her hair was soaked in blood and knotty, but her eyes were still open and staring into his soul. Beside her was a folded and blood-stained note that said, 'You're next.' In large black lettering.

   "Rowan? Are you okay?" Came a male voice from in front of Rowan as he blinked rapidly to clear his vision. That's when he realized he was still at the inn, and Ares was standing beside Rowan with a hand on his shoulder. As Rowan's mind began to relax and pull away from the memories, he felt his anxiety spike and laughed nervously in an attempt to hide it, 

   "Yeah, sorry. Just...bad memories." He glanced away. Ares stared at Rowan for a moment before taking his hand off his shoulder and moving back to his chair,

   "You don't seem alright, But I'll take your word for it." He paused to shift in his seat, "Did you hear what I said?" He asked with a small head tilt as his gaze focused on Rowan. After taking a deep breath to ease his shaking, Rowan shook his head a bit,

   "I'll be alright, and no, I'm sorry, I didn't." He sighed heavily before raising his gaze to meet Ares, who had a determined look on his face,

   "I want to come with you. Regardless of Lady Skel. If anything, that makes me want to join you more. Although she hasn't been able to get roots here, I've seen her minions now and again. They cause trouble, and only The Queen's guards can reprimand them without getting killed, usually. I've dealt with one at the tavern before. An Idiot threw a mug at me. I shifted, and he ran out screaming, probably wasn't expecting it." Ares couldn't help it as a small smirk made its way onto his face. Although seeing the smirk made Rowan's heart jump into his throat, 'Oh no, he's hot.' He quickly turned his gaze to the side and gave a small laugh to hide his nervousness. 

   "Yeah, that's kinda how it went when some came into the bakery. They weren't expecting me to knock them on their asses so fast. Or that I would literally throw them out." He shifted to sit cross-legged on the bed and hunched slightly forward as he turned his gaze back to Ares,

   "Well, as long as you don't mind Lady Skel and her lackeys trying to kill me every week, It would be nice to travel with someone." Rowan smiled softly at Ares, who paused for a moment before getting a small smile and nodding,

   "Count me in." 

   The two then spent the night chatting and planning where to go next, using Rowan's map of the continent to plan out where to head after that. Rowan then told Ares about some shops he enjoyed, and they planned to go to those too. It was nearly 3 AM when the two finally parted ways, and Ares went home with a plan to come back after sunrise to join Rowan for breakfast, then head out. Little did they know what the world had in store for them.

(Chapter 2)

[katnissmellarkkk]

Chapter Two

Hiiii! Okay, soooo I wanted to get the new chapter out ASAP! I really, really love any of you guys who read/kudoed/commented or anything on AO3 🥰🥰🥰🥰. Means the world to me.

As I mentioned on here yesterday, my one eye is basically sore and I went to the eye doctor and basically can’t wear my contacts for a few days. So because of my how nearsighted I am and the fact that I haven’t updated my glasses prescription in over a decade .... I edited this chapter on my phone? So yeah. I think it turned out just as well as any of my other writing but ya know. For verification, if there’s some mistakes here or there. Ya girl was tryin, ok. 😂😂😂😂😅😅😅😅😬😬😬😬😬😬.

Okay anyways I’ll stop talking, here’s the next chapter :

“You just have to get to know her,” Peeta claimed. “Bailey’s a good person. Don’t let her outer shell fool you.”

What I really wanted to ask him was how he ever got beyond her—as he so delicately phrased it—outer shell.

Never big on social interactions, on top of being generally awful at making friends, I did my best to get all the information Peeta would willingly offer about his new, mysterious girlfriend, before having to deal with her directly.

Which wasn’t much. Peeta, the boy who gossiped about his father wanting to marry my mother while we were in a televised death match, who seemed to always have some insight on other people, who never hesitated to share his gossip with me before now, suddenly had tight lips when it came to Bailey Robyn.

The biggest emission I got from him was, “she had a childhood a lot like mine.”

I don’t know what that means? Bailey was the child of District Nine’s baker? District Nine had a class divide as well and she was of a merchant equivalent? She was a popular wrestler?

And then it hit me all at once. Like a train storming for the Capitol, it hit me with crushing force. Peeta never confirmed the fact, but the look in his eyes when I made the guess was enough to suggest I was right.

Bailey also grew up with an abusive mother. Just like Peeta.

The idea was a lot for me to process suddenly. I knew people who looked perfect could hide dark secrets. Peeta and Finnick Odair were both evidence of this. But for some reason I was taken aback by the notion that Bailey, who seemed so lively and pristine and collected, could have come from a violent and vicious household like the Mellark’s.

I mentally berated myself for the shock. How many times had strangers misjudged me in the last couple of years? How much had that infuriated me to find out?

When I go over to Haymitch’s house the following week for dinner, I make considerable effort in preparing myself to see Bailey sitting at the table.

And I’m not disappointed.

Bailey Robyn is sitting in the dining room when I walk in, half her hair gracefully combed into a cascading updo, looking as porcelain and perfect as ever. In her hand is a cookie covered in pink frosting, her mouth pulled up in a sparkling white smile as she laughs at something Haymitch has said.

Evidently Bailey puts my old mentor in a good enough mood, because he gives her a real genuine grin in reply.

Before turning to me with a scowl, of course. “Well, sweetheart, look who decided to join us?”

“I’m on time, Haymitch,” I immediately grumble, eyeing him with aggravation.

“If we give or take twenty minutes.”

But Bailey apparently wants to be my buffer. “Like you’ve ever been on time for anything, Haymitch Abernathy,” she retorts, looking at me knowingly. Like she’s trying to let me in on her joke. Like we’re old friends, who gang up on Haymitch together all the time.

A part of me feels displaced, as this interaction, if I didn’t know better, gives me the idea that I’m the odd one out and Bailey is the aquatinted one in this dynamic. But still, I take a deep breath and smile back in her direction.

I promised Peeta I would try. I promised to give Bailey a chance. And I’m not going to break another promise to him.

Not after everything that’s happened to him because of me.

Before I can find a semi-conversational thing to say back though, more voices join us.

“Katniss!” Delly chirps, rounding the corner from Haymitch’s pigsty living room with Peeta by her side.

“Oh, look who finally showed up,” Peeta says, teasing me.

I have an entirely different reaction to him nudging me versus Haymitch. Instead of getting defensive, I feel myself immediately blush, suddenly a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I got held up in the woods.” My words somehow get choked in with a giggle and Peeta smirks in response.

Luckily for me, Bailey seems to not mind our interaction. Instead she laughs once again. “Held up in the woods by what?” She murmurs curiously.

“Knowing her?” Haymitch mutters, eyeing at me wryly. “Squirrels.”

/

I give the night my best effort. I talk to Bailey, ask her questions—pretend not to notice how elusive her answers are—and plaster a completely fake smile across my face, trying my best to appear as sweet and as pleasant as I am capable of.

However, by the end, I’m so glad Delly is there by my side that, without hesitating to think about it, I invite her to be a permanent member of our weekly dinners. If Peeta can bring Bailey every time—as I suspect he will—I can surely have someone here too. Someone else who is a bit apprehensive about the new addition, someone who doesn’t think I’m just blatantly rude for remaining on my guard.

I expected Haymitch, at least, would be a little unsure about Bailey. I expected he’d be at least slightly cautious of her presence. But instead the opposite seems to be true.

Instead Haymitch almost seems more apprehensive about me being at dinner.

Every time I glance at Peeta too long, every time I cringe—in my mind, internally, but evidently the old, paunchy man notices—when Bailey plants her lips all over Peeta, I feel him kick me in the leg, step on my foot, nudge me roughly as he passes by.

Delly finds the whole thing really funny. She finds Haymitch and my subsequent glares and glances more entertaining than any of the stories Bailey shares about District Nine.

And Delly Cartwright has never been one for subtly. She’s never been one for holding back her emotion either.

What should be her quiet chuckles are loud, snorting giggles and her standard laughs are practically hysterics.

And I find unexpectedly, when mixed with such a tense air, the sound of her boisterous laughter cracks even me up. Even Haymitch smiles a little.

Of course, the fact that this conjures up an image of me and Delly sharing some kind of inside joke is sort of an unexpected gift. I only realize it after the fact, but the idea that it looks like me and Delly are laughing together makes me feel suddenly less alone. Makes me feel suddenly like I belong here again.

Bailey is pleasant enough, I note to myself. She smiles in all the right places when someone else speaks, she manages to softly laugh in all the appropriate spots, she tell us vague details about her home in Nine easily enough.

Apparently she was born and raised on a farm, learned to produce grain from a young age and left her parents’ home at fourteen.

She makes no mention of the abuse Peeta implied but I never expected she would. It takes practically a microscope to uncover it in Peeta’s own tales. And even that’s from my point of view. An outsider who didn’t survive two games and a war with him would be hard-pressed to decipher it at all out of the stories he tells. I anticipated Bailey would be just as allusive.

I did not anticipate however, that Bailey would grow so uncomfortable when asked where she lived after she left her parents’ home. I didn’t expect her to look around the room in an abrupt, stiff silence, that she would stare past the walls of Haymitch’s home with a glassy look in her stone blue eyes, or that she would stand from the table without warning and flee down the hall.

And I’m thankful now that it was Delly who asked the question and not me, as surely my old mentor, who’s nearly smashed by this point, would find a way to cast the blame onto me.

“Did I say something wrong?” Delly asks, genuinely disturbed that she apparently must have hurt Bailey. She may not be her biggest fan, but Delly Cartwright isn’t one to intentionally upset people.

Peeta hesitates for a moment before shaking his head. “No, she’s just... it’s nothing you did, Delly,” he promises but his voice is far away now too, and his gaze flickers towards the hall the blonde disappeared down.

Still, Delly bites her lip in fear she caused an issue and excuses herself from the table in a haste, offering to clean everyone’s dishes.

Neither me nor Peeta—or even Haymitch himself—say not to bother. The house itself is in atrocious condition after the decades of neglect and washing the dishes will only cover the plates in grim and mold instead of food. But it’s not about the actual cleansing of the dishes and we all know it. It’s about avoidance.

Something the three of us know more about than anyone ever should.

I use the given opportunity to catch Peeta’s eye. “What’s going on?” I murmur under my breath, hoping Haymitch wouldn’t insert himself into the conversation for once, that he won’t shut my question down and bark at me for being nosy.

“Bailey just needs a minute,” Peeta states, and I can tell from his tone it’s better not to ask again. Whatever’s going on with his girlfriend has him on edge as well. It seems to me, at least.

The next thirty minutes feel like hours as they pass. No one speaks. Haymitch is almost out cold from his liquor. Peeta refuses to meet my eyes or even so much as tear his gaze from the direction Bailey walked off in. I’m about to tell him to just go after her, when she decides to reappear.

Like magic, she reappears, her face seemingly flawless, her smile as bright and as stunning as before, her poise back again like it never slipped.

“Are you okay?” I ask anyway though, because there’s no use in pretending she didn’t just run off after a harmless comment. Delly obviously wants the answer to the same inquiry or she wouldn’t be currently lingering in the doorframe, afraid to even enter the room.

Still, I receive a pointed glance from Peeta and an outright disgusted look from a barely coherent Haymitch.

I fight my natural instincts that says to justify myself. My natural instincts that tell me they’re being far too defensive over a simple question.

And for what reason? Peeta just met her a few months ago and Haymitch probably wouldn’t be able to tell her apart from half the merchant girls in the district. What is it about Bailey that makes both of them take up their metal armor to protect?

“I’m fine,” she says lightly, and offers a tight, closed-mouth smile that doesn’t come across as real for a second. “Delly, do you need any help in the kitchen?”

“No,” the typically bubbly blonde says almost instantly. There’s a waiver in her voice and I feel a pang of sadness spread across my chest, because Delly is obviously afraid of even being in the same room as Bailey now.

“Okay well, we should be going anyways, Peeta,” she says definitively and tugs on his hand with a bit too much force. If you ask me.

“Me too,” I murmur before mentally kicking myself, realizing that I just boxed myself into a corner, looking like I was playing a game and trying to tag along with them for the walk home.

Well, the entire two minutes it takes to get to each of our respective homes, that is.

Even without the added awkwardness of tagging alongside Peeta and his girlfriend, a part of me—a naive, juvenile part—doesn’t want to watch Bailey enter through Peeta’s front door, doesn’t want to accept the fact that she isn’t just spending the night, that his home is now hers too, as a definitive fact.

Within a matter of days, his home is officially her’s. I already know it must be true. But that doesn’t mean I’m anxious by any stretch of the imagination to have the suspicion confirmed.

Haymitch chuckles darkly though, seemingly at my expense, as he lifts his head from the grimy table. “I see someone’s trying to escape before we can light the candles and start singing.”

I blanch the same moment I feel Peeta’s eyes turn and land on me in shock.

I was hoping everyone had forgotten my birthday somehow.

/

Read The Rest On AO3

[ravenbrenna09]

minor note: for this, i’m saying that lies is two or three years younger than jens and lotte is about 9 or 10 (she looks about 8 in s1 right?); also: this does cover a cancer diagnosis from a parent so please be cautious when reading (and sorry for not adding this earlier).

ideal seizoen vier: aflevering vier

main: Jens Stoffels

clip one (zaterdag): it’s well after midnight but the party keeps going. jens doesn’t mind of course, in desperate need of a break, and the boys are more than happy to stay out a little while longer. even as the party keeps going at senne’s apartment—that he reluctantly was forced to move back into for reasons that jens didn’t know—jens excuses himself and heads downstairs in need of another drink. he checks his phone and finds a worried message from his mom, asking where he is. jens texts her and says that he was staying at robbe’s tonight to which his mom comments that she’s forgotten and tells him that she’ll see him tomorrow afternoon. jens types out a text asking how she’s feeling but he deletes the message and heads back upstairs. 

clip two (zaterdag): jens wakes up to someone poking his side—and he wakes up to find robbe standing above him with a cup of coffee—who comments about how jens drank too much last night. jens swats him away and robbe catches his arm and jens turns over, commenting that he hadn’t slept well. robbe apologizes for the couch and jens replies that it’s okay, saying that he wouldn’t want to share a bed with robbe anyway. sander pops up, saying that it’s a good time, and jens replies that robbe has kicked him off the bed more than once. sander makes a comment about why he sleeps near the wall and robbe slaps his arm. robbe’s mama comes in and informs them that dinner is ready and there’s a sad look that washes over jens’s face. robbe seems to notice and goes to question but jens gets up and moves towards the kitchen.

clip three (zondag): after waking up to a quiet household (and his cat behind his head), jens heads downstairs to find his mom sitting at the dining room table with a list in front of her. he asks if he needs to go and his mom shakes her head, saying that she’s going with his father later. jens nods and asks where the girls were. his mom says that lies (the oldest of his sisters) went to meet friends and lotte went to the park with their father. the two of them fall into what feels like a restless silence with jens seeming like he wants to ask something. before he can, however, his mom speaks up and asks if jens can pick up lotte and watch the girls on tuesday because she has an appointment with the doctor and his father is going with her and they are going to stay overnight at a hotel so they don’t have to worry about driving home so far. jens nods and says that he’ll take care of them. his mother smiles, standing up, before giving jens a hug and a kiss on the cheek. she thanks him for all of his help in the past week and promises that they’ll find their new “normal” soon once the doctors have a plan. jens looks like he wants to say something—but doesn’t—and simply nods his head.

clip four (maandag): at lunch, the broerrrs are talking about something. even though they just filmed a vlog last week, moyo and aaron want to film another vlog because they’ve managed to brain storm over the weekend about various ideas. while the two of them are talking, jens gets a text message from his mom, asking him if he could possibly pick up milk on the way home and one of her prescriptions. while he’s looking at the text message, jens zones out of the conversation and isn’t brought back until robbe nudges him, asking if he’s okay. jens nods and texts his mom back. he asks when they’re planning on shooting. moyo suggests tuesday and jens says he can’t, saying that he has to watch take care of the girls after school. aaron questions why—commenting that jens never had to do it before. jens hesitates, but eventually shrugs and says that his parents are going on a date night or something. moyo and aaron don’t seem to notice but robbe gives him a questionable stare. 

clip five (dinsdag): after picking up lotte from school, the two of them head back to the house with lotte telling jens all about her day at school. lotte asks where mom and dad is and jens says that they had to go out of town. lotte and jens do homework at the kitchen table with lotte completing hers a lot faster than jens does his before going into the living room to play. lies comes home and finds jens sitting at the dining room table. jens asks what she wants for dinner and lies asks where their parents are. jens says they’re out of town and lies asks for what with tears in her eyes. before jens can answer—obviously affected too, lotte comes in and asks jens if they can watch frozen ii. jens says that they can watch whatever she wants. jens gets up and follows her into the living room, giving lies a worried look over his shoulder. 

clip six (dinsdag): after putting lotte to sleep and reading her a story, jens goes back downstairs and finds lies in the kitchen putting the rest of the pizza in plastic baggies. spotting him in the kitchen, lies makes a comment about how she doesn’t like keeping it from lotte and jens says that he agrees but that’s on mom and that she doesn’t to tell lotte about the diagnosis until they have a plan and they see that it’s working. lies looks over at jens with tears in her eyes and admits that she’s scared of losing their mom. jens says that he is too but that she’s got the best people in the world to help her through it. lies starts to cry and moves to hug her brother, who holds her back just as tightly.

extra content: jens texts jana and says that he misses her. jana says that she misses him too and teases him about being awake. jens says that he and lies were talking and time got caught away from them. jana asks if everything is okay. jens says that no but that everything will hopefully be okay soon. 

clip seven (woensdag): after school on wednesday, jens and robbe head out to a café to hang out for a little bit. jens asks if sander is going to join them and robbe says that sander isn’t joining them. glancing at robbe, he sees the concerned look on robbe’s face as they sit down and jens questions what’s wrong. robbe says that he’s noticed that something’s going on with jens and he’s worried about him. jens says it’s nothing. for a minute or two, they’re quiet before robbe raises an eyebrow, throwing jens’s own words from last week back at him. robbe says that he’s jens’s best friend and that he knows something is wrong. jens can sense that robbe has something more to say, but, unable to keep it to himself anymore, jens tells robbe the truth: his mom got diagnosed with breast cancer. jens tells robbe what happened—or as much as his mother had told him—that his mother had her annual test and she had to have surgery and they had to run tests and it came back positive. jens says that it’s treatable and the doctor caught it early, but jens admits that he’s scared and lies is scared. robbe is quiet and asks if he’s talked with his mom about it. jens says he hasn’t, commenting that he doesn’t want to worry his mom more. robbe says that he should and jens asks why, not wanting to put so much stress on his mom. robbe shrugs and says that last year, when robbe finally broke down and told his mama what was going on with sander—back when she didn’t know who ‘sander’ was quite yet because he was scared she would react negatively too—his mama had wished that he had told her sooner. robbe suggests that jens talk to his mom about his feelings. 

clip eight (donderdag): before lies comes home from her dance class, jens finds his mom in the kitchen again with her list. spotting him in the kitchen, she questions him on his day and the two of them talk briefly about school. after a small period of silence, jens swallows and confesses that he’s confused and frustrated and sad about everything going on. when his mom doesn’t cut him off, jens admits that he didn’t want to bring it up because he wanted to help them and didn’t want to worry her more but he keeps getting confused and he doesn’t know who else to talk to. his mother comforts him, saying that none of them expected this, and while she appreciates jens’s help with the girls and groceries, he doesn’t have to take it all at once and that he’s allowed to be upset too. jens hugs his mom and says, almost breaking down, that he doesn’t want to lose her. for a minute, the two of them hold each other, before his mom reminds him that her cancer is treatable and it’s going to need a lot of work but she’s going to fight for a future with him, the girls, and their eventual significant others—and jens laughs, shaking his head. she has jens promise to talk to her or his father whenever he feels overwhelmed—or, if he doesn’t want to talk to them, they could always look into finding a professional to talk to. jens nods and thanks her and falls into her embrace. his mother holds him and thanks him for coming to her, saying that she didn’t want him to put it all on his shoulder. 

clip nine (vrijdag): after school on friday, jens and the broerrrs are leaving and moyo mentions a party that might be going on later that night. jens comments that he can’t go, saying that he and his family are having a well-needed family night. robbe asks if he can join and jens said that his family might like that but he’ll clear it with his mom and let him know. aaron asks if jens really can’t come and jens nods saying that he needs to be home with his family. aaron asks if everything is okay to which jens shakes his head. after glancing at robbe, jens tells the other broerrrs about his mother’s diagnosis and how his parents went to the doctor, but they have a plan and the doctors are confident. aaron hugs jens unexpectedly—with robbe joining in a second later—and jens appreciates the hugs. aaron says that he’s sure that everything will turn out okay. after the moment passes, moyo gives jens a handshake and has him promise to ask if he needs anything. moyo says that he’s had to take care of his mom before and that he knows how weird it might be sometimes. jens thanks him before coughing and saying that he needs to go pick up lotte. the boys promise to meet up sometime the next weekend at the skate park to skate.

[spacemilkies]

turkish delight

“some of my best memories are of food. perhaps they can become yours too.” —eleazar “lazar” azoulay x bell

or lazar takes bell on a culinary adventure to help discover herself.

a/n: looking forward to a year of plentiful muse and inspiration to write again.

  you expected death to be darkness. perhaps only broken with occasional wisps of flames and the stench of brimstone. regardless of ones faith, the imagination created the greatest wonders and nightmares of the unknown. 

what you didn’t anticipate was the smell of sea salt and something aromatically woodsy in fragrance. 

it’s what billows under your body, slowly bringing to the rise of clarity. but rather than understanding, you’re met with a sharp pang in your chest. 

with a harsh gasp, you immediately try to curl in on yourself, the action worsening the pain as you tremble in the aftershocks. the pleasant scent you’d been chasing is lost the the crackle of gunfire and the deafening roar of the cliffside waters below. the splintered fragments of one of your last memories- an authentic recollection- was of russell adler shooting you point blank. 

your measly records, mostly fabricated as they were, didn’t lie about your skill set. you were quick to react at the slightest hint of danger. but it wasn’t fast enough. 

frankly, what would you have done, had the shot connected with its intended target?

you, a broken soviet contact turnjacket versus a man with medals that could have spanned the walls of whatever dark corner cell they would have thrown you in. perhaps adler’s methods, though unsanctioned, were ideal. and could have saved you a great deal of turmoil had it actually finished the job. 

“hey … careful with those stitches. i may be a good cook but those are where my talents cut off. but i did what i could.”

the voice though alarmed, took great care not to raise to the volume it could have. it was comforting. meeting it’s well intended goal as the hair at your nape slowly fell with recognition. you knew that voice. 

more importantly what accompanied it. 

the rapid returning uptick of your heartbeat had to be audible as it rapped against your ribcage. from what you could tell, no part of you was presently restrained but that didn’t mean you weren’t detained. adler did not complete his objective, but you weren’t an end that could remain loose. 

and if death was his last resort. you weren’t keen on waiting to find out what came after. 

“relax, mami*. you are safe.”

then in an odd form of constraints, two large hands cupped your cheeks rather than constrict around your wrist. your own hands paused minutely just short of his neck where you could still very easily bring them up and squeeze. however, as your vision finally cleared, all you were left to do was stare up at the face of eleazar azoulay.

lazar.

his skin still wore some of the worst of both havana and solovsky; a stretch of abrasions and scratches that would take time to heal. ones that he should have all the time in the world to allow them to as he basked in the afterglow of victory.  not hide them in a minimalistic room. the walls too thin and surrounding noises too close in reach to be considered a home. wherever he brought you was somewhere closer to civilization than you had been in berlin. 

“lazar.” came your first reply since seemingly returning from the dead. a simple word ready to burst at the seams from all the emotions thrashing around inside you.

you could feel his answering chuckle, breathless but lacking any real humor. but relief was there. solace in the fact that you’d remembered. after weeks of making you think that everything was as it should be. 

though instead of rising to the anger, you sagged in defeat. 

“...lazar.”

because that was all you could manage. 

lazar. 

not adler. 

pools of dark brown shined with something you couldn’t quite comprehend as his thumbs rubbed warmth into the swell of your cheeks. you wondered how cold you must be for him to feel so inviting. 

“life for a life, my friend. i only wish i could have been sooner.”

though you doubted much would have changed. adler was not a man that could be reasoned with and in comparison, lazar lacked the authority to challenge. still you wondered what it might have looked like, a knight in bloodied clothing coming to your rescue. 

you probably would have shot him too. 

all of them for pulling you through living hell. and not even having the audacity to let you earn the scorch marks as yourself. even now across the finish line, you weren’t sure who crossed the threshold. 

lazar spoke in the absence of your speech. “we’re far from solovetsky. back in another safehouse of mine. somewhat better than the last, i suppose. i almost forgot it was here.” he’s delaying the inevitable. adding verbosity to a mission brief when he should have been listing the cold facts. yet you didn’t mind as you found yourself sinking back into the stiff mattress with each continued stroke of his calloused fingers. 

“we’re in nice. cleared, of course.”

right. because asking him to run away with you would have been more than your ledger could account for. 

his thumbs pause as his face hardens in preparation of his next words,” it was a clean shot, through and through. just missed your heart. though it may have nicked a rib.“  his tongue darts out to wet his lips, an action you follow in dazed silence. “... adler. he gave you nine days to recover before you’re to present before the board. we’re six days out now.”

adler. 

six days. 

board. 

stacked on top of each other, they made for a formidable tower of your greatest fears. all ready to topple down at any moment. lazar had saved you, yes, but in order to subject you to what?

the firmness of his grip brought you back to attention as your cheeks pursed. “but we still have time to address that. for now you rest.”

even in the chaos of your mind, you agreed that he was right. you would need all your strength to face the music awaiting you in the near future. 

finally his hands drew away and you licked your own lips, catching the faint taste of gunpowder against the cracked ridges. 

first rest.

“and then?”

you wished you could package that grin. tuck it away and only unwrap it when the worst of the world came against you. it was a smile that nudged away the encroaching darkness at the recesses of your mind and left behind a gentle glow. 

“then we eat. i’m making shawarma.”

   in hindsight, perhaps graciously seasoned meat still glistened with oil was the last thing you should have put on an empty stomach. but this was the aroma that had brought you back from the dead, it was unlikely to make your grave. 

you could taste all the ingredients you’d managed to piece together prior and something more. a strong blend that you couldn’t decipher without help. 

“what spice is this?”

already well into his second helping, lazar rose to the hidden compliment. “spices. za'atar. its a blend of sumac, marjoram, sesame seeds and a few other things my savta* covets as a family secret. it’s good, no?”

it was. very good. and if stuffing more down your throat wouldn’t result in an unfortunate reappearance less than an hour later, you might have welcomed more. 

“i didn’t know you could cook so well.”

eating, you knew he did very well. despite the drab and outskirt safehouse in west berlin, lazar never failed to have some sort of food stashed away- rarely any of them the rations you might have expected. that and his assortment of food related clothing choices made him look like quite the connoisseur. 

“growing up with a family like mine meant learning fast or you didn’t eat. every hand was there to aid in the kitchens.”

your family had- well, adler’s injections of vividly colored memories had not only not skipped over that aspect of your finely threaded life but also managed to weigh down on the scraps of what could have been your actual recollections. right now you couldn’t even picture what your household looked like. if it was full or lacking. did you wake up every morning to the smell of pancakes or did you make your own bowl of cereal alone at the table?

adler had managed to rip away such an intimate part of you. distant echos of what you were before everything. 

lazar’s brow rose as your chewing slowed. “i can’t right my wrongs. neither can anyone. we all dealt with the hand we were given. those some more poorly than others. but you have more people on your side than you think. “

you immediately think of woods and mason. two figures who’d been more receptive to your skill set than your past. maybe sims to, if he shared the same sentiments through his friendship with lazar. 

park. 

would you even be in this outcome had you chosen differently in havana?

it had been a split decision in the heat of the moment, relied purely on proximity above all else. it made sense to reach for the closet body for extraction first. but you thought- 

it hardly mattered now. 

you pushed your half eaten plate to the center of the table, hoping to end both the meal and conversation. 

rest first, then eat. 

hopefully you could rest a little more before everything started to blur again. 

accepting the silence yet again, lazar nods as he brings your plate closer to polish off the remains, content to let you fall back into the abyss of your mind. as your gaze drifts to the rapidly clearing plate , you found yourself wondering what pleasant smells would wake you tomorrow. 

[pavys-originals]

The Stranger At The Festival

Title by the wonderful @ellieisdreaming ! 

Alaana Rohikshuul x Coruscanti!Reader

Genre: Fluff mostly, very brief mention of angst/aggression. 

Warnings:  Very brief aggressive behaviour against the reader. (It is non-violent but still aggressive.) 

Summary:The reader has come to experience the festival of the new year on Tmryn for themselves, because despite the world being at the very edge of the outer rim, the festivals are supposedly worth the trip out there. 

Words: 4.1K

Notes: - I know that people don’t usually read ocs x reader, but I just want to say I worked really hard on this, so any and all notes are really appreciated!  - Improper/Grammatically incoherent English/Basic may be used when certain characters are speaking. This is not a mistake. Not all characters are native English/Basic speakers, and so have learnt it as a second language. It is not making fun of anyone, nor is it a mistake. It is just there to add depth and realism to the characters who speak in that manner. It was not written to offend anyone, and I apologise if it does. 

Not my gif

To say that you had been anxious to make such a long and supposedly grueling trip to the edges of the Outer Rim would have been a little bit of an understatement. The trip was longer than most, further than Tatooine by quite some length- both in time and distance. This was merely one of the things that gave you concern. You had never flown too far into the Outer Rim, you quite liked the feeling of being so close to your home. Being separated from a place where you had such fond memories made you feel a tad uneasy. You had been assured and reassured by many of your friends and close companions that the journey would be more than worth it- Obi-Wan and Anakin had said that the sights of Tmrynish festivals were a true scene to behold- “It was like a vision from some sort of deity”, Anakin had recalled- and Padme had not stopped talking of how beautiful the views of the holds and city dwellings from the mountain ledges could be in the twilight. 

So, here you were now, sitting eagerly on the edge of the plush seat of the ship- that classic shine of Nubian metal reflecting the brilliant glow of the Tmrynish sun from it’s position in the dark void of empty space off in the distance. Out of the window, the view of the terrain below astounded you- brilliant hues of greens and earthy browns of the enormous and fabled forests, marvelous rich blues and teals from the rivers and seas that held numerous forms of life, and even the dotted white of snow-capped mountains,which helped to shield the holds at their feet from most directions, from either attack, invasion, or natural evils that plagued all worlds.

You eventually settled back into your seat when you started to land- though the crew seemed a little nervous. The captain had promised you they had made the trip many times, but that didn’t hide the glint of fear in the crew’s eyes. But fear of what? Landing incorrectly? No, that couldn’t be it. 

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts and theories that you hardly felt the craft land on the hard stone of the landing pad. You- and your few fellow passengers- began to rise out of your seats, hastily grabbing your belongings one by one. You had been advised not to take too many devices that would need regular recharging, as only those with enough money or status could afford the technology like that in their homes. Workplaces had them, sure, but it was highly unlikely that they would let outsiders use their equipment. Keeping this advice in your mind, you had firmly settled on travelling lightly- a few garments to last you the week, the odd bit of necessary technology that didn't need to recharge over short bursts of time.  

So, when you first set foot on the dampened earth of Tmryn, you allowed yourself a minute to take in the scenery that surrounded you. 

The almost makeshift landing pad was surrounded by trees- tall, towering life forms that overshadowed all besides the mountain off in the distance. They towered so high that you could hardly see their tops in the warm sunlight that just managed to reach the ground. They had thick trunks, and needle-like leaves that rattled quietly in the gently breeze that washed through them. A few of the needles fell and bounced about your feet, but they were soon lost in the green moss-like grass beneath your boots. It was as if they no longer mattered in the greater scheme of the planet, they were no longer a part of it's plan. 

The visions that had been painted in your mind's eye by others who had visited the Tmryn system did the place a great disservice, nothing they had described could ever truly compare to the terrain that threatened to overwhelm you. You didn't allow it to, however, taking in each piece carefully as your eye glided over it's surface.

Snapping out of your nature-induced trance, you came to realise that the other passengers of the spacecraft had started to leave you behind. You briskly gathered your things, you didn’t want to lose the few semi-familiar faces you had.  

There were no conversations shared between the passengers of the ship during the walk to the largest hold of Tmryn, where the majority of the celebrations took place. The other holds and settlements of course had much smaller celebrations of their own, but the large hold of Doverah- named after the wiseman of the Old Triumvirate and the hold’s founder-stroke-patron- was the one that drew in all the tourists, and even other inhabitants of the system. It was full of life of all kinds, varying species and dialects, and even slight variations in tradition, depending on households and other influences. 

It seemed peaceful and harmonious, a settlement that clearly all those who took up resident within adored. Children played happily in the streets, dodging quickly in and out of their parent’s legs, nimbly evading capture from their friends. Clearly the excitement of what was to come that evening had already set in, making the various children more hyper than they normally would have been. Their parents chittered and chattered with one another, keeping an eye on their young but letting them play as they pleased, not yet wishing to rob them of the magic childhood had over their lives.  At least, this is how they acted from a distance. 

It seemed that the stares- innocent and appreciative as they may have been- from yourself and fellow first-time passengers made the Tmrynish residents a little uneasy. Whether it was the fact there was constantly at least one set of eyes watching them as the group passed, or whether it was the fact that the group were largely unaware and unfamiliar with the etiquette of Tmrynish cities and holds and thus completely alien to them, it was hard to  say. But as the group kept moving, occasionally getting close to some residents, they pulled children close if they had any near and about to run into the path of the tourist group. If they did not have any children near, they would just back up a step or two, averting their gaze and folding  their arms over their chest. A few of the more burly looking citizens gave the tourists a harsh glare, however none of the pack seemed to notice or acknowledge this. 

Eventually the group had to trek up the side of a mountain that was the back drop no matter where you stood in Doverah. It towered over everything, and was in fact the tallest mountain on all of Tmryn. It was no wonder that this place, so high and close to the heavens above, had become  the main hub of religious sects in the system. It was custom that any and all offworlders pay respects at the temple of Doverah, to show they bore no ill will to the residents. It was with this custom in mind that the group moved, and thankfully there were no harsh winds to hinder them on their journey when exposed at such high altitudes.  The stone steps were uneven and steep, and a little nerve-wracking given the fact there was nothing protecting those from the sheer and rocky drop next to them. No one seemed to want to focus on that fact though, instead starting to notice the rather ornate carvings starting to appear in the side of the rocky path. 

The frieze ran up alongside the stairs, curving upwards slowly with the slope.They depicted an army of figures, all in rows, armoured and armed, locked in some sort of battle. Some held  spears, others were atop feline steeds, and as they reached the top of the winding stairs there were arching firing their bows at whatever enemies were at the start of the frieze- none of you could remember in your slightly enamoured state, and at the very very end there were a collection of nine figures, each distinct in their attire and stance. The entirety of the group slowed to admire this little segment of the sculpture, clearly depicting the divine beings that the Tmrynish paid respect to and worshiped. 

You were all distracted, however, when an old woman came forth from the temple, a huge smile on her face. She seemed to be the very height of friendliness when compared to the other residents of Tmryn. “Drema-Lok, offworlders!” She greeted cheerily, and though her voice did croak with the wisdom of her years, it still sounded very welcoming. She did a quick head count, and nodded in satisfaction. “I am very pleased that you all managed to find your way without any trouble..” She chuckled lightly. She leant heavily on an oaken looking staff- it was thick, and ornately carved, with similar symbols that had been scattered along the frieze. “Oftentimes a few will get mixed in unfavourable scenarios...” She seemed to be rather amused by it, still smiling softly as she slowly turned on her heel, gesturing for your group to follow along behind her. They slowly did, your fellow tourists sharing odd looks between themselves. 

There were a few more steps up into the large, gilded archway that led into the temple, and the old woman seemed to conquer them with relative ease, she probably climbed these, and the other stairs on the mountain, regularly. It was slightly odd to see though, a woman clearly so on in her years moving quickly as if she weren’t a day over thirty. Though she hobbled, and walked with the aid of her staff, she was just as fast as any of your companions.

The detailed frieze and golden archway seemed to only be the beginning of  the pure extravagance that had been poured into and over the interior of the temple. The floor was mosaic, and a flurry of golds, blues, silvers and whites. It was painful trying to think how long it must have taken to place each one of those squares. There was no particular image per se, from what you could see- instead it was a sea of different swirls, all amassing in the centre, and the mixture of colours seemed to depict the image of the skies above in the depth of night.It was truly beautiful. The others seemed to notice the beauty of the piece too, and as they were about to snap photos, a reptilian looking deacon or priest addressed the crowd; “Please, refrain from capturing the Divines and their images... Not here, good friends. Tell tales of what you see, yes yes, but let others come and see for themselves what the inspiration of higher powers can achieve... It is only just.” He spoke, each instance of sibilance drawn out a little longer than how most would speak- though the cause of that seemed to be the elongated and razor sharp teeth settled neatly in the reptilian's gums.   

With his words, those who had taken out camera devices put them away once more, as requested. The old woman, still at the head of the group, nodded softly at him. “Kogaan, Naxxus.” She smiled at him gratefully, before gesturing to the veiled Naxxus, who returned the gesture. “Naxxus is our highest ranking seer in Doverah... If he gives you advice, you would be wise to heed it...” She told your group, and there were gentle murmurs of acknowledgement from around you. Naxxus nodded again in farewell to you and your group, before moving off to speak with other smaller groups scattered around the large hall you were all stood in, the tough claws from his feet clacking quietly on the tiled floor. 

“Now, off-worlders, come this way!” The old woman gestured for the group to follow her again. “Whilst I would be glad to let you roam this great hall and pay homage to our Divine providers, we believe it that you should wear the proper attire first and foremost.” She informed, leading you all down a hallway, lit by bright and golden sconces spaced out evenly along the walls. “Not that the majority of your clothing is not practical nor respectful... It is merely not what we wear during times of religious festivities.” She explained, it seemed reasonable enough. She lead you into a sort of common room, just out of sight to where an average citizen would go when visiting the temple- unless they had requested to look at a scroll from the holy archives. 

The common room wasn’t empty, there were a few priests and priestesses, all helping one another with their regalia. They all looked magnificent. Robes were gilded at the hems, silver and gold threads intertwining to frame sapphire blue material that seemed to have a texture somewhere between velvet and silk. Whatever it was felt extremely soft to the touch, and incredibly expensive. How could you tell this? Because you were handed similar looking robes by the kindly old woman.  The group all changed fairly quickly, with only slight struggle with wrapping the sash round the waist and over the shoulders. 

There was a soft grunt and mutter from behind you. You turned slightly, still holding the robes against your body as you tried to place faith that your wrappings wouldn’t fall. Standing behind you was a tall, brawny looking feline male. His body was covered head to paw in short, grey fur, which lightened to a gentle snow white around his palms and muzzle. His muscular arms were crossed over his equally toned chest- you could tell he was well built even through his fuzz. His ears- both long and placed either side of his head, had arched downward slightly as he snarled, bearing his sharp, lengthy canines at you. “Off-worlders should not be allowed to wear garments of such fine cloth,” He hissed, starting to attract more attention. “It is blasphemous... And you..” He pointed a large finger towards you in particular. “You disgrace the clothes of the Divine providers most of all. You cannot even trust it not to be wound too loose!” He exclaimed, and at this outburst, one of the priestesses came to investigate. 

“Parthas,” Her voice seemed to be the embodiment of calm, the direct juxtaposition of Parthas’ tone. She moved how she spoke too, smoothly and calmly. Her presence seemed to soothe the entire room, even the roaring fire seemed to settle somewhat. “Friend, what is the matter? The offworlders are doing nothing out of the ordinary..” She gestured to your group, and you caught a glimpse of her face. 

The first thing that caught your attention was her eyes. They were a deep brown- a brown like the earth that was beneath your feet when you stepped outside, the provider for all of life on the planet you were visiting. Despite their dark pigmentation, they were full of life. Vibrant, sparkling life. On top of those eyes were mounted  sleek, arched eyebrows. They were not arched in a way that made her threatening to look at, but rather it was a gentle, inviting, soft arch. To frame her tanned, heart shaped face there were long, flowing locks of deep, almost raven black hair. Almost. The fire from beside you revealed it to be a very deep brown. Her posture, straight and confident,  and exuded the same calm her voice did. Clearly, she was a professional in whatever occupation she found herself in. 

She wore similar robes to everyone else in the room, however there were a few more bits of embroidery along the sash, and her antler headdress was much more extravagant- covered with little jewels and small feathers. Clearly her more expensive and lush clothes were a sign of her position and the amount of respect that she had earned both inside and outside of the temple. The headdress seemed rather weighty, but she seemed to be very used to it, she was perfectly balanced. 

A huff from Parthas drew you from your trance-like state.”They know nothing of what the cloth signifies, they are desecrating-”  “Do you know what it means?” The woman quickly retorted. “What?” Parthas’ snout crinkled to his show his confusion at her question.  “Do you know the significance of the cloth?” She repeated, slower, and the feline man started to stumble over half-formed words. It was very clear that he did not. He shuffled his paw-like feet, still unable to find any words to answer her, and unable to turn his face away from her piercing green eyes.  “Precisely, friend. Do not criticise those who suffer from a similar ailment to you. It is hypocrisy, is it not?” She chuckled quietly. 

“Uh, yes, lady priestess... My deepest apologies...” He gave a gentle bow, and the woman gestured to you.  “I think this here off-worlder is more in need of your apologies than I am, friend.” She placed a hand softly on your shoulder as she spoke. Parthas looked at you, almost grudgingly. “My... Apologies, off-worlder.” He reluctantly spoke, almost grimacing at his own words. The priestess nodded in a cue to leave, and he quickly did as you turned to face the woman, who was offering you a kind smile. “My apologies for the behaviour of some of our guards... Some of them have been brought in from other holds and settlements- rules and regulations differ ever so slightly. They’ll come around eventually, we believe. Anyway,” She paused with a chuckle, “He didn’t say anything too rash to you, did he?” She asked, seeming genuinely concerned whether you had been offended or not- and to reply you shook your head. “No, I suppose he didn’t...” You trailed off for a moment, your brows furrowing slightly in thought. “I’m sorry- and I don’t mean for this to be rude in any way- but why do you care so much about a tourist? I’ve not experienced something like that on any other planetary system... And, may I ask, why did he listen to you?” 

“Ah, many questions, you off-worlders can be most curious,” She chuckled gently. She didn’t seem to phased by your questions though. “I suppose to begin with your first question, I stepped in because I feel that all people should be given a base level of respect, until they prove themselves to deserve more or less than that amount respect. Parthas... Was not giving that respect, I feel. As for his argument of you desecrating the sacred robes, I think he is slightly misguided on his line of thought, as you are not wearing the robe in a way to mock our culture- you are actively participating in our festivities at our invitation. There are certain restrictions of course, since you were not born here, but if you cannot take part, you most certainly can watch and support.” She nodded gently as she spoke, and you started to nod with her, she seemed to make sense.  “And as for him listening to me, I am an honorary high  priestess of the temple.” She told you with a smile, and you mirror her smile.  “Honorary?” You echoed, “Why only honorary?”  “Because I have a primary occupation- but my family is respected enough for the temple to still grant me an honorary position here, since I cannot permanently fill the position I was meant to take because of my current place in the galaxy.” She told you. For a moment, you can’t think of what to say. It was a rather long-winded explanation, and  you can only just about wrap your head around it.  “Oh?” Is all you can think to reply with.  She chuckled gently at you. “I am a Jedi,” She explains, “Therefore, only an honourary Priestess.” This, more simple explanation, helps you understand a little more. You nod, falling silent for a minute.

After a few more minutes, she broke the almost awkward silence between the two of you. “I think that it’s time we get on the move,” She said to you, gesturing to the other members of the group you had journeyed here with. You nodded in agreement, moving back to the wide hallway, hanging towards the back of the group, so as to keep speaking with your new guide. “So, would it be alright if I asked your name?” You ask politely. 

“Of course.” She replied, just as politely. “My name is Alaana Rohiikshuul.” She told you. “And may I ask you yours?” She looked at you with a slight til of her head. “ (Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N).” You respond, with a slight nod of your head, trying to think of what to say next. You clear your throat before speaking, “I don’t mean to seem rude, or ignorant, but what festival are we attending? We weren’t told all that much before coming here, besides it being the new year?” You asked, prompting her slightly.

“Ah, yes. It seems that people in the Inner Rim have stopped trying to explain what our festivals and rites are like or are for.” She mused gently. “Like the Inner Rim with their parties, fireworks and the like, we too celebrate the coming of the new year- albeit in a way some may deem more ‘primitive’. The festival not only celebrates another year passing, but honours the Divine that the Tmrynish believe watches over the very concept of time itself; Don-Zeh. We call it the Donzic Rites.” She fills you in quite gladly on everything. “There’s a lot going on throughout the night, so don’t be afraid of missing something. Besides, not even the Tmrynish always take part in everything.” She chuckled softly, and you smile along with her. Her company was calming, and soothed your anxieties of being in such a different setting to what you were used to. 

You were about to ask another question about what precisely the evening would entail, but you were quickly distracted by the distant sound of music fast approaching as you made your way down the mountain with the tourist group and your newfound friend. Almost as soon as you all reached the streets, you were split up from one another, whisked away into the dusk with singing and dancing, feasting and drinking. Whilst on paper, the generic ideas of the activities would have ordinarily taken place on Coruscant too- but the Tmrynish seemed to put their own little cultural twist on everything, it was colourful, and indescribable. You realised now why Anakin had some difficulty trying to convey everything to you.There was simply too much to try and get through. The lights, the colours, the sounds, the food- everything. It all amassed in this beautiful, divine and it was just an atmosphere you couldn’t replicate anywhere else, even if you poured your heart and soul into it all. 

At some point during the evening, you found yourself sitting upon a felled log just outside the city walls, where the celebrations had spilled out to as the night had continued. You were staring up at the ink black space above, identifying a few of the planets here and there- though they were much smaller than you were used to. Whilst distracted, you didn’t notice a figure sit beside you, taking off their headdress. “Had enough for the evening?” She asked, and when you turned your head you realised it was Alaana, her voice immediately making you smile. You chuckled softly;  “I am a little worn out...” You admit, and she nodded gently in understanding, she seemed to be in the same state at the moment.  “Was it the dancing?” She asked, an amused tone to her voice. You sheepishly nod. “Not to worry, (Y/N), even the Tmrynish get worn out from their own dances... It means you’ve danced well.” She told you. It seemed reasonable enough. 

Barely even noticing your own movements in your drowsy state, you rest yourself slightly against Alaana’s side. She doesn’t move in protest, just smiles up at the sky, the stars and planets reflecting in those deep, chocolate brown orbs. “Thank you, for earlier today...” Your soft, and almost sleep-filled voice fills the silence between you both.  “You don’t need to thank me.” She replied, quite bluntly- she really felt that you didn’t need to thank her for what she had done, she was just doing what she believed was right. You nod softly against her shoulder as your eyes grow heavy. Unable to stop yourself, you drift off into a deep, and restful sleep, Alaana letting you rest against her for the rest of the night. 

[fleckcmscott]

Adjusting

Summary: Arthur moved in with Y/N nearly two weeks ago. It takes more getting used to than he’d thought.

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Smut

Words: 3,675

A/N: Another request by the wonderful @sweet-nothings04​. Thank you to the amazing @ithinkimawriter​ for beta-reading and her support!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Arthur was pensive as he sat at her small, round dining table. (Their table. Theirs. When was he going to remember to use the right word?) Pen in hand, he sought relief. The multitude of changes since moving to 4A in Burnley, since moving in with Y/N about a week and a half ago, had kept his brain distracted enough to stop his negative thoughts, at least for a couple of days. But they were back in full force. It was discouraging - he'd believed the temporary break might have been permanent. It had been foolish to hope, though he couldn't have stopped himself from wishing it.

Y/N had taken Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday off to help him settle in. They'd been side-by-side for five days, the most time they'd spent together at once. It had felt close to what he'd imagined a honeymoon would be like, and every hour had strengthened that association. He'd cherished it deeply, but he kept it to himself. He shouldn't have been picturing himself the happy groom and her his blushing bride after only three and a half months of dating.

When she'd returned to work Monday, it had been unexpectedly difficult for him. And his unease had grown over the next days. It wasn't that he was alone - he was used to being on his own. But he found that without her there, he felt out of sorts. Almost like a guest in a fancy hotel, regardless of how often he'd been there before and her insistence that he wasn't.

His old place had been run down, and everything in it, from appliances to the mismatched curtains, was outdated. But it had been his home and he'd been comfortable there. With all the evenings Y/N had spent in 8J after Penny left to go to long-term care, his memories of it had started to be positive. When she'd had work to do, he'd rummaged around while she'd sat at his breakfast bar, reading court documents he'd snuck a peek at but hadn't understood. Their first Christmas together, the first holiday that had meant a damn to him, had been celebrated in his living room. They'd watched shows on the old color TV, with its dials and wooden casing. And he'd made love to her on the couch, that piece of furniture he'd spent lonely nights on most of his life.

Maintaining separate residences had meant that Arthur's space and what he could do in it were clear. He'd had his own household to run and had managed to keep busy between the occasional job. Now he felt lost. Y/N had told him to take his own actions, to not worry about upsetting her, that as long as he didn't do something drastic to the apartment, there'd be no issue. Yet, even with her reassurances, he felt as though he needed permission. He didn't want to ruin her nice office wear by laundering it with his own, faded clothing. And he was unsure if she'd like him rearranging the kitchen cabinets a bit (because coffee and sugar should be on the same shelf).

It wasn't her fault. She'd done and continued to do everything she could to help him feel at home. New towels had been hung up for him in the bathroom. They'd gone shopping together and picked up the dish soap he used, his favorite seltzer, and sheets to match his green blanket. He'd hooked up his VCR, too, and they'd watched one of his old movies, just like before.

But his mind was stopping him from enjoying himself, as usual. He'd tried picturing a big red stop sign, speaking the words aloud to sap away the intrusive thoughts' power, both techniques he'd recently learned from his doctor. They weren't working tonight, however. So he started writing. "I signed up for another open-mike night, but that's in to weeks - to whole weeks!" He pulled at a piece of chestnut hair as he continued. "I half Y/N all the time. Its good but she's going to get tired of me. I'm tired of myself. I want to feel fresh for her when she gets home. Which is in two hours, so I better hurry the hell up!"

~~~~~

The sun had already set and a deep chill was in the air. It wasn't a surprise; February was Gotham's coldest month. Arthur stood in the partially open doorway, watching the light snow fall onto the fire escape, the flakes illuminated by the streetlights and lamps of the living room. Journaling had helped, and nicotine tempered him mildly. Still, his brain was racing, so much so he nearly felt numb. Part of him wondered if moving in with Y/N had been a mistake. Yes, he was thirty-five and most men seemed to move out when they were eighteen. But he wasn't like most people. And though he knew he'd taken the right step, his doubts tightened his sinews and muscles.

He didn't hear the closing of the front door. Or the clink of her keys on the kitchen counter. His first indication that she'd come home was her loose grip on his sides. "How was your day?" she asked.

Hard. "Okay." Letting out a smoky breath, he took a step forward and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray on the stairs. "Yours?"

"Long." She didn't move forward, allowing the space he'd created between them. "There are nine hearings on the trailing docket tomorrow. I'm going to be in court until five." Her bones popped as she stretched behind him. "What do you want for dinner?"

"I'm not hungry."

She pulled him inside and closed the door behind them. "Here," she said, then brushed her fingers through his hair. "You've got snow on you."

A small chuckle left him and he bent his head to help her. "Oh."

"Where did your pajamas and thermals go?" she asked as she patted his chest. "You're always so buttoned up." Before he could bring himself to stop her, she'd opened his brown cardigan. Her kneading of his bony shoulders, the care she was showing him, made him wince and look at the floor. How could he explain his troubles, his concern, without hurting her?

But then she relieved him of that burden by starting the conversation herself. "Change isn't easy," she said. "You miss your old place." When he grasped her hand, he folded their fingers together and swallowed. Her arm went around him. "It doesn't mean you love me any less."

Both annoyed at and thankful for her perception, he frowned. She'd gotten too good at reading him, better than he was at interpreting her. He was working on it, though. "It's silly." He waved, trying to dismiss his discomfort. Then he tucked his chin. "I don't want you to think I don't wanna be here."

She kissed the corner of his mouth. "I'll never think that, Arthur."

His forehead rested against her temple. "I'm trying."

"I know. Did you write any jokes today?"

His arms encircled her and pulled her to him as he nodded. "What's the difference between Arkham's patients and doctors?"

The hold she had on him tightened, even as her voice was light. This had become a pattern: sweet puns on good days, darker wisecracks on rough days. "Their types of files?"

The punchlines she gave were always too cerebral. Nestling in her hair, he closed his eyes. "The patients get better and leave."

Laughing, she pulled away from him. The grin he gave her was small, the stroking of her jaw short. But he hoped they were enough to tell her he was going to be all right. Especially with her by his side. Her cheeks turned pink in response. "I think I have a way to make you feel better," she said.

Eagerly, he let her lead him to the bathroom. It was with relief he watched her grab the soap from the sink, take out two new washcloths, and start the shower. They hadn't made love for eleven days; he missed it - it was a comfort to him. Her monthly had started right before the move, and, while he'd needed her, he'd been too tense to get in the mood since it had ended.

She helped him out of his sweater and hung it on one of the hooks he'd installed on the door. The white shirt he wore was undone hastily, both of them fumbling with the buttons. When she reached for the fly of his pants, he cupped her face and kissed her tenderly. He felt her smile as she nudged his nose with hers. Then she backed away and stripped out of her champagne blouse, revealing the plain, beige bra she wore underneath. She slipped out of her skirt, too, leaving it on the floor, and sat on the closed lid of the toilet to take off her pantyhose. "I've been wanting to do this for awhile."

Though his mind was still busy, the speed of his thoughts was decreasing. And she was cheering him up. He propped himself on the sink and took off his white socks.  "It's a little slippery in there," he said wryly.

"I'll have you know I'm a pretty good ice-skater. For a Southern girl, at least." That was an image he'd have to remember. Maybe they could try it out at Gotham Park before the end of winter. She removed her underthings and put on the radio, which was set to Arthur's favorite AM station, the one that played music from the thirties and forties. "Besides, I'll have you to break my fall." Then she stepped in the tub.

They hadn't showered together before. It reminded him of the night they'd lain in the bath, when he'd realized her love for him wasn't a trick. Would he feel the same closeness without laying in her arms? Sliding his pants and briefs down his legs, he got in beside her and shut the reeded glass door. The space was a couple inches narrower than his old one, but because there wasn't a curtain that would annoyingly cling to him, it felt bigger. It was a bit longer, too. And the shower head was at a good height, though he was still getting used to the higher water pressure.

The steam rising above them, the pelt of droplets against his back, the foot of space between them - he took it all in, peering at her, hands clasped in front of him. She was already rinsing suds out of her hair. Was he supposed to start washing in front of her? Pressing his lips together, he picked up his shampoo. But she stopped him and took the plastic bottle. "Let me."

"I can do it," he said, trying to grab it. Apparently ignoring him, she turned him around so his chest faced the wall, then got his hair all wet. It felt childish at first, but he realized that was silly. She'd never treated him that way, not once since they'd met. So he went along with what she was doing and tried to relax. The sensation of her massaging him made that easy.

She slowed as Lawrence Welk started playing, the song muffled by the humidity of the room. "This music is older than I am." There was a slight tugging on his scalp as she got caught in his loose curls. "You really like antiques."

"That's why I'm with you." He chuckled at himself when she swatted his bottom, proud of his quick comeback. But then his eye started to burn and he squinted. "Shit. Hold on," he said, lifting his face towards the shower head.

The rub of the washcloth across his shoulders, then lower and lower still, prompted him to look down. She'd stepped closer, one of her feet between his. "Are you feeling any better?" she asked, her fingertips ghosting over his heated skin. He found he could only nod. "Good." The cloth fell to the bottom of the tub, next to their feet, the impact splashing his ankle.

Her arms snaked around him, and he shut his eyes at the press of her breasts to his back . Her palm went to his chest, then glided down, teasing each rib until she reached his taut abdomen. He responded to her caresses, growing erect as she got closer to his dark curls. A huff left his parted lips as her fingers enclosed around his length, gently sliding up and down. The slick of the soap let her slip over him easily, and it felt incredible, even moreso because he'd yearned for it. It only took a few seconds for him to harden to the point where it was painful.

He bit his lip, her delicate grazes causing him to tremble. But then she started to withdraw, and he thought she'd mistaken his reaction. He grasped her hand and opened his eyes. "Don't. Please."

"Tell me what you want," she said against his shoulder.

What he wanted? He longed for Y/N to take his last name (even though it was far too soon to suggest that), to make it feel like it was his again after the lies he’d uncovered. He needed to accept that he belonged in her home, in their home, and stop doubting. And now, with their legs entwined under the flowing water, he wanted her to keep touching him.

Challenging himself, he watched as he slowly guided her over his cock. The eroticism of the sight halted his breathing. "Y/N..," he groaned, bracing his forearm on the dark blue tile wall. Her fingertips reached out and traced the edge of his swollen, red head, and he rutted forward. When her nails dug the skin of his thigh, he thrust into her touch again. Her breath was hot on his neck as her hips followed his. It was becoming too much too fast - he wanted to be inside her instead of spending all over their hands and the floor.

Spinning to face her, he clasped her sides and drew her flush to him, his eyes darting back and forth between hers. Her eyelids were heavy, her pupils dilated with desire. Drops ran down the plains of her face from her hair, over her brow and cheekbones. Unable to wait any longer, he tilted his head and pressed his mouth to her. The contact burned and he twisted them to press her against the wall, slipping his tongue between her lips. She took his erection, then, and brought it to her labia.

At first Arthur was surprised, believing her to be going too quickly for the intimacy he craved. But instead of taking him inside her, she slid his tip over her burning, wet folds, and he bucked towards her. Her giggle was wicked, but turned to a soft moan as she went faster and shivered. She was teasing them both, and every swipe of him along her core tickled the nerve endings up and down his shaft.

He hungered to taste her, and batted her hand away before kissing down the side of her neck, fondling her breast as he thumbed the peak of it. Her soft cry bounced off the glass door, and his fingers went between her legs, sinking into her  soft center. His open-mouth and tongue followed as he knelt before her. The musky scent of her filled his senses as he nuzzled the feminine curve of her abdomen. Just as he was getting into the right position, the spray of the shower hit the side of his face and ear unpleasantly and he flinched.

Y/N giggled and stroked his hair away from his forehead with sympathy, then inched down the wall towards the end of the tub, holding his arm as he followed on his knees. It felt slapstick - he had to laugh at his own awkwardness. But that faded as soon as he gazed up at her. One foot was situated on her side of the tub, opening her wide to him. Rivulets were trailing down her shoulders, the slopes of her chest, catching on her nipples. And she was smiling down at him, affection as clear as the water they were standing and kneeling in. "This was supposed to be about you."

"It still is," he rasped as he spread her lips with his thumbs, then licked a line from her entrance to her clit. Her response was immediate, rolling into his mouth and calling his name. He kept his eyes on her, watching the rise and fall of her breasts with each exhalation, and the way her head tipped to touch the tiles. One of her hands went to the ceramic soap dish on the wall, holding it in a white-knuckle grip, while the other went to his shoulder.

It was funny, he reflected, even as he laved at her. He'd fantasized about this act within the first week of meeting her. From what he'd seen and heard, women were supposed to like it. He hadn't expected to enjoy it as much as he did, though. The strength of her responses always made him feel good about himself - and turned him on beyond belief. And knowing no one else was allowed to do this to her, that she was his alone, satisfied him.

There was more of her slick with every sweep of the tip of his tongue, and he savored its taste as he closed his lips around her clitoral hood. Her grip tightened as she put more of her weight on him. She must have been having a hard time continuing to stand. His palms went to her quivering thighs and he pushed, anchoring her as her slight movements stuttered. With a series of soft cries and pants, she started throbbing against him, and he brought her tighter to his mouth, his licks tenderly persistent as he groaned into her.

Once her spasms halted, he stood and pressed his forehead to hers. With a smile on her face, she wrapped an arm around him. Then she reached between them and helped him ease up inside her. It went more smoothly than he had assumed. And he hadn't guessed it would be quite so comfortable, standing instead of laying down (which they'd always done so far). But the scorching stretch of her surrounding him felt wonderful, even at this angle.

"I missed this." Her breath brushed his jawline as the muscles around his cock tightened. “I wish you could stay inside me forever.”

A short, muffled laugh escaped him, then became an amused hum. "That's a long time." His frame shuddered as he grasped her rear, holding her as he withdrew a few centimeters. "I don't wanna go fast," he said, ending on a grunt, nuzzling her cheek.

She held the nape of his neck, her fingers tangled in his hair. "Fuck me like you kiss me," she whispered. A small, pleased hiccup caught in his throat before he locked his lips with hers. Where had she learned to speak so shamelessly? It drove him crazy. He bent his head, opening his mouth to deepen their connection. But the unhurried, shallow plunging of his hips, her walls repeatedly accepting him, enveloping him, soon prevented him from concentrating on anything other than the need to finish.

She was moving, just enough to meet him, still letting him control the rhythm. Blindly, he grasped at the wall, pushing his face to her neck as he screwed his eyes shut. The newness of this, the nearly two weeks without her, and the eager clutch of her body were fighting him deliciously. It was ending too fast, and the ability to slow down was slipping away.

Somehow he was still holding himself up. He thrust harder, deeper, striving for the few seconds of serenity he only experienced after losing himself in her. One final push and the pressure in him broke, and he gasped and spilled inside her. The music in the background faded, drowned out by the hushed moans and whimpers passing between their lips as he pressed her into the tiles. Stilling, he kept himself buried in her until the gentle waves of his climax ended and his muscles went slack.

Y/N was rubbing his back, kissing his shoulder, neck, then face. His pulse skipped at those tender touches, and he lifted his head to meet her eyes. “Feeling better?” she asked.

“Yes." He carefully left the grip of her entrance.

Cupping his face, she leaned her nose to his cheek. “Good.” Then she grabbed the washcloth from the tub, wiped herself off, and hopped out of the shower. Arthur shook his head, smirking as he cleaned himself. When he slid the door open, she was there in her sweatshirt and pants, and she gave him his towel. “I know you prefer these,” she said, putting his thermal shirt and pajamas on the sink. “I don't want to tell you what to wear. But you can lounge in our home. Plus,” she continued, grinning, “your arms look great in that shirt.”

He deduced she must have grabbed them while he was finishing up. A bashful smile broke across his cheeks and he ducked his head. "Thanks. You always know what to say." Shrugging, he shook his head. "You always do that. Make things better." Then he took her hand and pulled her closer, leaning into her. "I really am glad I'm here." Gazing at their entwined fingers, he gave a small squeeze. "I don't ever want to leave," he said quietly.

"Don't worry," she said, tone upbeat. "You're stuck with me for good." Y/N planted a kiss on him and walked out of the bathroom. "I'll start dinner. Join me when you're ready."

Even if it was something simple, Arthur enjoyed cooking with her. Hurriedly, he wrung out and dried his hair, then ran the plush cloth over his arms, torso, and legs. Not caring his clothes were getting wet, he pulled them on and ran out after her.

~~~~~

Lawrence Welk - The Moon is a Silver Dollar

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[singingunderthecurtain]

God, Is That You? | 20190321

Author: @julietsoddeye​ Genre: Angst | Fluff | Fantasy AU Pairing: Xiumin x Female Reader (ft. Taeyong) Warning: Language | Mention of ONS

Plot: Dear Diary, hopefully this is just a dream because this is not how he said it should be!

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﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

You were awoken by the ear-splitting sound of your ringtone right into your right ear. You fell asleep instantly last night, forgetting to put your phone on your bedside table.

Who the fuck is calling you at this hour? Since your suspension you have been sleeping late, ergo you wake up late.

Not looking whoever the hell is calling, “Hello,” you answered groggily.

“I need you to come to the office.”

You shoot right up. Eyes suddenly the size of plates wide. 

That was your manager. No, not your immediate boss, but the department manager, Mr. Lee. He never, ever calls you… 

Well he called you once last year, to ask you to pick up his three ugly pugs from the groomers because apparently everyone in his household was too busy to do so. He did give you a crisp ₩50,000 that day, to silence you about running him a personal errand, which is prohibited in your company. 

You’re so used to doing things for everyone because before there were newbies, before Taeyong, you were once the “Errand Girl”. When it was Taeyong’s turn to be the errand boy when he started, you felt bad for him and you helped him. That’s how you became good friends.

“Are you there? Did you hear me?” your Manager slightly raised his voice.

You shook your head to fully wake yourself at once, “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, I just woke up,” you scramble to your feet and grab your bath towel.

“Be there on time,” he said before abruptly ending the call.

—

It’s still too early, considering your manager called you an hour and a half before the actual work time, EVERYONE seems to be here already, even the usually tardy people are around, scrambling to their feet like crazy as if a disaster is about to happen. A lot of your coworkers come in literally five minutes before nine and it’s not even eight-forty-five and here they are.

You made a beeline to your desk, making sure to dodge your busy coworkers when nobody even noticed your presence. The moment you put your purse down the table, you and Taeyong made eye contact. ( your tables are parallel to each other)

“What’s happening?” “What are you doing here?”

The both of you exclaimed at the same time and then laughed immediately right after.

“I’ll go first,” Taeyong started with a giggle, “apparently our CEO will have an early retirement and wants his son to take over asap. So the old man is gonna show his son around the whole company today,” he said as he placed down his phone on his table. 

You see that he was just messing around with his mobile phone with just the right amount of paper stack he does every day. He is pretty efficient at his job, he makes sure to finish the right workload so that he will never have backlogs or bring home any work with him. (unless it’s new season projects, taking home work can’t be helped)

“I see,” you nod your head up and down in understanding. 

Your coworkers are pacing around the office to make their workspace look busy, adding unnecessary papers and old logs from previous weeks ago. Pffft, wouldn’t that only show the company owners that their employees are lazy? That they don’t do their work???

“So what are you doing here?” he asked again, this time standing from his chair to hand you the paper bag of pastry he bought. Obviously wanting to share the food with you.

“Mr. Lee called me earlier this morning, asking me to come in,” you simply reply. 

Thankfully he doesn’t have coffee on his table yet, so you hand him one of the cups you were holding. Taeyong’s eyes lit up seeing the written order of his favorite drink on the paper cup.

“Hey, guys listen up!”

The loud voice of your immediate boss suddenly pierces through the slight buzz around the office. Took a minute before everyone settled to listen.

“Mr. Lee is going to say a few words.”

He and Mr. Lee are standing above the few steps leading up to their respective private offices. You, Taeyong, and the rest of the people in your department are frozen waiting for whatever the hell the department head is about to say.

“Floor is yours, Sir…” your immediate boss motions for Mr. Lee to start.

“So,” Mr. Lee started, paused to clear his throat, “you all already know that we will be having a new CEO soon. Kim Sajangnim called for a board meeting two weeks ago to announce that.” he continues.

Taeyong suddenly nudged you and when you looked at him, he discreetly handed you half of the blueberry muffin he gave you just a few minutes ago.

You smile a bit as you take the snack from him and Taeyong smiles back and takes a sip of the coffee you bought for him.

“Kim Sajangnim wanted to spend time with his new wife. That’s why the early retirement,” Mr. Lee had his left hand over the right side of his mouth pretending to whisper with a weird and petty expression on his face.

How lucky are you to land a job in an environment like this? You almost rolled your eyes but stopped yourself from doing so. You just got back from work, you don’t want to be on his bad side again. He’s not even looking at you, but someone might be and tell on you. You don’t know who the suck-ups are among your colleagues, you can’t trust anyone.

Everyone whispers among themselves. Taeyong nudged you again and he gave you a knowing reaction and you slightly shrug your shoulders as a reply.

“Anyway, be on your best today. I don’t exactly know what time they will visit, but our department needs to look good. Okay, team?” Mr. Lee said. 

After a chorus of ‘Yes, Sir’ from everyone, your boss, Mr. Lee, and two more managers retreated to the meeting room.

You had a brief talk with all the managers before Lunch telling you investigation is still ongoing regarding the incident last week. They also said they won’t be telling the higher office about it just yet, not until the investigation is complete. 

That gave you a sense of relief for now and you dare not inquire anymore when they seem to neglect to answer some of your questions. Kind of weird, but you ignored it, the important thing right now is you’re back at work.

Some of your coworkers seem to quiet down every time they catch you around, some whispering after giving you a slight peep as they talk among themselves.

Taeyong told you to ignore them, reminding you that it has been a slow few months and everyone is just bored so they gossip about you. 

The last big office scandal was Wonseok’s cheating chronicle three months ago. He and his wife made a huge commotion in the building’s lobby when she found out he was cheating on her with your now resigned coworker, Mina, and a few more other women. You don’t like gossip and scandals but that week was very interesting, you can’t help but listen when your coworkers babble to you and Taeyong about it.

Other than that, the day was kind of okay.

To everyone's (not you and Taeyong, duh) disappointment, the scheduled visit from the CEO and his heir didn’t happen. It is a pretty big company with a lot of different departments, you can’t squeeze a visit in just one whole day.

You and Taeyong decided to celebrate your comeback over dinner and a quick drink at the samgyupsal place just a block away from work. You’re laughing about how unsatisfied everyone when Mr. CEO and son were a no-show. You both hate how everyone’s a fake, some a little more than others. They would go to lengths just to make it seem like they’re very, very useful for the company. 

You’re happy you found your mutual with Taeyong. You’re both just neutral about office stuff.

You both had a bottle each of soju tonight and you know you’re gonna sleep well.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

THURSDAY | 20190321 — This should be a suspension countdown. But I am suddenly NOT suspended anymore. Mr. Lee said he needs me to be in the office. (he needs to look good in front of the new CEO. Typical.)

Yeah, new CEO!!! A young one. The old man’s only son.

YAY! :-|

[ayla-221bee]

‘In the Most Delightful Way,’ a  Mystrade Short fic/ Drabble -The Morning After.

It was a throb in his head and the feeling like death had warmed up that managed to drag Mycroft out of sleep.

Once he managed to open his eyes, Mycroft realised that the ceiling that he was looking was not his. As he tried to avoid looking at the window, the curtains were open and the sun was shining obnoxiously bright, Mycroft focused on the ceiling. There was a damp stain on the ceiling that was by the door and there was an equally large spider web that was on the left side of the room.

The bed was not his own, it was far too uncomfortable for his liking. The duvet and the sheets felt cheap and were not a patch on his own. The pillow that he rested his head on was flat and he could feel the outline of a bedspring digging into his lower back.  He did not realise that there was someone in the bed with him until he felt a warm weight lying across his stomach, an arm that was holding him tightly.

Mycroft noticed a familiar wristwatch on the arm that was wrapped around his middle and he let out a groan.

He knew that the fourth glass of scotch was a mistake. The wine that accompanied the wonderful meal that was made for him did not help the situation.

He rarely enjoyed being in the presence of another person and he tended to prefer his own company the majority of the time.  Gregory Lestrade was the exception when it came to interacting with another human. He was one of the few people that Mycroft willingly spent time with and he usually found himself keen to engage in conversation with him, it had taken Mycroft by surprise when the realisation hit him.  He could even consider Greg to be a close friend if he had to place a label on their relationship with another.

That itself had surprised him greatly as he had little desire for friends. Mycroft did not even know if he was capable of having friends, he had given up on trying to make friends when he was twelve. He did briefly consider making friends again once he was in university but he found other students to be loud and obvious. He had tried his best to be friendly with the other students in his halls but he did not like the mess they left in the kitchen and they never invited him to the pub when they invited everyone, and they spent the next three years tormenting him.

He never did expect to be friends with Greg, their friendship crept upon him slowly. It was something that Mycroft cherished even if he was reluctant to admit it.  Their conversations revolved around Sherlock at the start and he was the only matter that was discussed for several years apart from small talk in hospital cafes and as they smoked under the shelter of his umbrella when it rained.  They started to meet up for a coffee before work several times a week and it was often the highlight of Mycroft's day (he was reluctant to admit that as well).  

It soon progressed to meeting up after work for drinks or going out to eat.  Greg even texted him and phoned when he was away on business or when he was bored at work. Mycroft had been surprised when he had first recieved a poorly spelt text message with a smiley face when he was at the office one afternoon. The first thing that he did was scold Greg for his poor grammar and spelling, and how smiley faces were not professional and that he should text properly. A message came back within moments, somehow the spelling was even more appalling and he recieved text messages that just consisted of stupid smiley faces and other hieroglyphs that Mycroft did not understand.  He never did like texting and found it unprofessional but he tolerated texts from Greg.

The conversations about Sherlock and small talk about work ended shortly after the texting.  He lost the formality and stopped calling him Gregory and somehow agreed to call him Greg.  He learned how Greg had three half-sisters and two half brothers, that his parents split up when he was a child and quickly remarried. He learned that Greg liked to bake when he had free time and that he could make a deadly sourdough loaf that made Mycroft gain four pounds even just looking at it.  That Greg could speak French fluently and he spent many months on holiday with his grandparents in the French countryside as his parents and thier new families did not have space for him when he bounced between households during the summer.  

Greg slept in his spare bedroom in his flat once the divorce happened and he found himself somehow managing to comfort him until he got back on his feet.

Mycroft missed him terribly once he left, he had grown accustomed to the meals that Greg cooked, having conversations and company every day. He even found himself missing the football on the television, he never watched as he found the sport tedious but Mycroft enjoyed the company. He enjoyed listening to Greg talk about the rules of football and the merits of each player on the teams. He had even tried to get Greg to teach him the off-side rule several times as it was a topic that Greg got strangely passionate about.

It was difficult adapting to the silence of the flat once Greg had moved out and found himself a flat. He found himself not wanting Greg to leave but he could never say anything. He had been the idiot who hired a van to assist Greg with the move and he had bought him a potted plant for his new flat. Mycroft had never been one for regrets and he had never been one to dwell on the past. He had always found that any time wasted on regretting any actions was a waste of time,  but he found himself regretting the things that he did not do and did not say.   Once Greg left his flat with his last box, it had suddenly become more difficult to ignore his feelings for the other man that he had suppressed over the years.

He had wanted to say something so many times but he feared the rejection. He feared to lose the friendship more than anything and he did not want for it to be put through a shredder and ripped to threads. He had found himself becoming less comfortable with the prospect of being alone for the rest of his life and the isolation that would come with it, other people did not like him and he had a similar sentiment towards them.

The four glasses of scotch had been a massive mistake and Mycroft felt his friendship falling out of his hand like grains of sand.

Greg had invited him to his flat the evening before, it had been a long day at work and Greg had decided to make a lasanga for the two of them. Being the gentleman he was, he had asked if he should bring wine. Greg had refused, he mentioned that he had plenty of bottles in the back of the cupboard as gifts from when he moved into his flat. Mycroft decided that scotch would have to suffice and he had brought a nice bottle from his office, a single malt that had been aged for thirty years, a gift from the First Minister of Scotland during the business of the  2014 campaign.

He had wanted to impress Greg and he had made sure that he was dressed to the nines (he was the majority of the time). He liked to make more of an effort when he was out with Greg, he had the childish fantasy that one day, Greg would suddenly declare affections for him and things would progress. The first time that the idea had appeared in his head and lingered for several days, Mycroft stopped watching his classic film collection for several weeks, convinced that his exposure to the films had put the silly ideas in his head.

He knew that Greg would never be interested in him anyway.  He knew that Greg liked men, it had come up in conversation one evening when they were watching Blackadder together not long after Greg's divorce.  Mycroft stupidly allowed himself to get hopeful but he did not say anything, it was an inappropriate time to say anything, Greg had finally gotten out of his depressive slump and his grief over the end of his marriage and it would surely have ended in rejection anyway. Mycroft knew that he was not a Cary Grant and he had never attempted a relationship before.

He had never enjoyed being in positions where he had little expertise in, his perfectionism never allowed him to be in a situation where he might fail. Failing would mean that he would lose Greg and Mycroft could not allow himself to do that.

The perfectionism also told him that Greg would never be interested in someone like him, he was not thin enough and his nose was too hawk-like. There was always someone who would be so much better suited for Greg than he would even be. Greg had attempted to date several women since the divorce and he found himself disliking them immensely.  There was hardly any appropriate words to describe how he felt when Greg was flirting with a very attractive man when they were out for drinks once. He was going to say something to Greg that evening but the words died in his mouth and he wanted nothing more than to go home once he caught Greg slip a napkin with a  phone number into his trouser pocket.

He also feared that he would do something that would push Greg away, he had never been the best with people and he often found himself saying the wrong thing. That his heart was actually made of ice and Greg would get sick of him and his struggles with understanding and processing his emotions. Mycroft had made a considerable attempt to defrost himself and meltdown the ice in his chest from after years of torment from his classmates, the rejection from his mother and Sherlock, and the horrors that he had seen from his short career doing fieldwork and behind his desk. It was easier to function when his heart was frozen and he could detach himself emotionally from his work.

He had found himself wanting to change once he and Greg had become friends.  It was a project that Greg took to enthusiastically and he had helped him defrost with ease. There was something about Greg that radiated warmth and kindness, he could give love freely and it never seemed to run out. Mycroft was almost positive that he had an endless supply of it in his heart. He found the quality absolutely nauseating in anyone else,  but with Greg, it was endearing and it was Mycroft's favourite quality about him.

Greg stirs in his sleep and his arm wraps around Mycroft's waist tighter and his head pressed against his back.  As much as he wanted to enjoy the feeling of being in Greg's bed and wrapped up in his arms, Mycroft could not enjoy the feeling. He had imagined it several times over the years and he had enjoyed being cuddled by Greg in the past. They had fallen asleep on the sofa together several times when watching the film together. Mycroft had felt safe and protected, it was honestly the best that he had slept for years after the first time that it happened. They never talked about it, it was a regular thing that happened.

Mycroft knew that the previous evening and the morning would be something that they would never talk about.  He almost feels heartbroken at the idea, this would be the perfect way to talk about his feelings and he could confess about how he felt to Greg, but he knows that the words will never come out. There will be a stone that makes his way into his throat and he would not be able to even say the words. His nearly three hundred years of British emotional repression will prevent him from even confessing and encourage him to avoid the elephant in the room.  He wouldn't even be able to talk about the wonderful lasange that Greg made, the film and the glasses of scotch followed shortly.

It will be impossible to not trip over the elephant's trunk if he talked about the film he watched with Greg. The memory is still fuzzy but he can remember looking at Greg after the two of them were laughing at a silly joke, the alcohol had reached his brain by then. He could remember clear as day, the two of them shared a certain look and they started kissing. Mycroft is not sure who initiated that first kiss, but he could remember straddling Greg's lap, removing his shirt and kissing him as if his life depended on it. He could remember Greg guiding him to the bedroom and opening up his trousers and his hand-

Mycroft cannot allow himself to remember much more. It will prolong the pain if he allowed himself to dwell in the memories of what happened last night. The conversation that will happen between them and the eventual rejection will cause him pain, Mycroft wished that he would be able to turn his insides into ice.

He did often wonder there were any signs, just a small bit of information that would confirm that Greg had similar feelings for him.  Mycroft cannot allow himself to get caught up in the notion and he knew that this evening had been a mistake. A stupid mistake that happened after four glasses of scotch and they would never talk about it.  

Greg would never feel the same, Mycroft knew that he had to accept that truth no matter how bitter it was.  There would be someone so much better for Greg than he would ever be.  It was better to deal with that fact than lose a perfectly wonderful friendship. He could deal with the elephant that suddenly moved into Greg's flat, he would try his best to ignore it and avoid tripping over his trunk.  

At the end of the day, it does not matter how he feels. It has never mattered, his feelings come second in his own life. The only important thing is that Greg finds someone suitable and he is happy, that they treat him so much better than his ex-wife ever did.  Mycroft was just foolish enough to allow himself to get swept up in the notion that he might be the one to do that for Greg. He decided to get rid of his films and lock them, he could not allow himself to get the silly ideas in his head.

Mycroft tried to slip out of bed unnoticed and he tried to assemble his suit from the pieces of clothing that were pooled around the floor.  His tie was knotted to the headboard and there was an interesting mark on his wrist that was not their before.  His shirt is painfully creased and is tangled up in the duvet and he cannot find the underwear that he wore the day before. He tried to hide his sigh and made a vow to never drink scotch again.

"What are you doing?" Greg's voice stopped Mycroft in his search for his belt.

It was six in the morning and it was almost ridiculous how beautiful he looked. He was spread out on the bed, the duvet covering him like a white cape, the top of his head was only visible, the hair ruffled beyond repair as if fingers had been running through and tugging it. Greg cracked an eyelid open and Mycroft could catch a glimpse of that charming grin.

As much as he wanted to crawl back into Greg's bed, Mycroft cannot allow himself to do so. "I was called into the office," Mycroft murmured as he picked up a pile of clothes and he tried to find his bed. "I've outstayed my welcome."

Greg sat up in the bed and scrubbed a tired hand over his face. He dared to smile despite the situation, perhaps he had not processed it properly or he had just did not consider it to be a massive deal, that he could not see the elephant at this time in the morning. "I think that you are trying to sneak out on me," he said. "We need to talk about-"

Mycroft cut him off quickly and cleared his throat. "It was a mistake. We had too much scotch and it was...a  mistake," Mycroft faltered.

The belt was located by the top of Greg's chest of drawers and Mycroft had little idea how it got there. He was a bit too focused on Greg unzipping his trousers at that point and Greg sinking to his knees to even remember.  "I can get out of your hair and allow you to nurse your hangover," Mycroft said with a tone of finality. "I am so sorry for what happened. I know that I'm- this was a mistake for you."

"I don't think that this was a mistake," Greg murmured sitting up in bed, gesturing with his hand. "Do you think that it was a mistake?"

"I'm not what you want," Mycroft said, the words are more for himself than for Greg. "Gregory, I cannot lose you...I value this friendship too much just to lose it over a drunken mistake...I need to go to the office."

Greg frowned and there was a hurt look on his face that Mycroft had only seen right after his divorce. "There is a shirt in the wardrobe that might fit you, God forbid that you go out in a creased shirt," Greg attempted to joke, his voice painfully tight. "There is some boxers and socks in the drawer as well. I'll go and make you some tea."

Greg stood up wrapped himself up in his dressing-gown before he pulled out a shirt from the back of the wardrobe. A pair of grey boxers follow and a pair of socks with goldfish on them make their way into Mycroft's hands. "They were a gift from my niece," Greg grumbled in response to Mycroft's raised eyebrow.

He showed Mycroft how the shower worked before he started to make tea. It was difficult to wash off the night before, the smell lingers as Mycroft massaged shower gel into his skin and scrubbed the shampoo in his hair. It felt almost like torture to have the scent of Greg on him all day and be reminded of the terrible mistake, and to have the knowledge that their friendship must be broken upon repair because he decided to bring that bottle of scotch over to Greg's flat for dinner.

Greg's shirt does not fit him properly. Greg was slightly broader than he was and he never did go to a tailor for his clothes and it is one from M&S, the shirt hung off him slightly and the sleeves were slightly too short for Mycroft's liking. He had can hide the inadequacies of the shirt with his waistcoat and some careful tucking. The goldfish that are on his borrowed socks are easily hidden by his trousers and his shoes. The scent of Greg's shampoo and body wash was almost overpowering and it seemed to channel memories of the evening before as well as a wave of regret.

"Hey," Greg murmured once he had left the bedroom. "I just made you some toast before you go."

Mycroft nodded in greeting and allowed himself to sit at the table. He could see the glasses and the empty scotch bottle on the kitchen counter and he tried to ignore the feeling his chest, a pang of guilt for what happened that evening and for upsetting Greg. There is a sense of longing in there, he did miss the domesticity that Greg brought to his flat and how they would have breakfast together most mornings. Mycroft missed those days horribly when Greg moved out, things were simpler back then.

He did not allow himself to make silly mistakes and he had been able to suppress his feelings with ease. He never thought that scotch would be the thing that ruined their friendship.

The toast was a ploy to keep him in the flat. He would have thought that Greg would have used it to talk about what happened, instead, Greg happily chattered about his day off and his plans with his niece.  There was still hurt in his eyes and his smile was tighter than usual, it was impossible to ignore. He wondered if Greg had realised that this was a mistake and that their friendship was more important.

The toast felt incredibly dry and like cardboard when Mycroft started to wonder if Greg valued their friendship as much as he did. He could not allow himself to question it, a strange feeling crashed into him and it caused his chest to ache horribly when he thought about Greg ending the friendship. Mycroft felt his eyes sting slightly, he was not sure if it was from the bright kitchen light upsetting his headache.

"This was not a mistake for me," Greg told him once he had slipped his coat on. "We do need to talk about this...I'll give you some time to think, yeah?"

Mycroft nodded and he felt Greg's lips on his.  It was a chaste kiss, it only lasted a second but it was somewhat reassuring and gave him a feeling of hope.

Mycroft scolded himself for being so childish and allowing himself to get swept away by it.  "I have little experience in dealing with situations like this," Mycroft said honestly. "I'm sorry if this has ruined everything. It was my mistake."

"I kissed you first last night," Greg's voice was barely a whisper. "I'll phone you tonight, okay? We can talk about this once you've had time to think."

Mycroft nodded and he tried his best to smile. He slipped his gloves on and hesitated by the door, the words wanted to come out of his mouth so badly but they never did. The crumbs of toast clung to the back of his throat and prevented him from speaking. "I hope that we can still remain friends, your friendship...It's something I hold dearly, Gregory." The words eventually managed to come out after several attempts, his voice was tight as if h had swallowed a stone.

"We are always going to be mates, " Greg said with an attempt of a smile. He looked right into his eyes and clapped him on the shoulder, a half-hearted gesture, it was obvious that he was holding back. They usually tended to hug these days, the clap on the shoulder was saved for work colleagues and acquaintances at the pub. It had been over a year since he had received a clap the shoulder. "I shouldn't keep you waiting, there's probably a world crisis you need to deal with, Myc."

Mycroft nodded and eventually forced himself to leave the flat, the task was a lot more difficult than expected. The door of the flat closed with a loud thud, the silence that surrounded Mycroft felt deafening.

[jadekitty777]

Where the Heart Is

*Looks at the 80% of entries so far being in some vain about that moment*

*Holds out her own overly cutesy entry* I-I can still join the party, right?

More seriously, I’ve been super stoked to get to this day! This entry is one my favorites, with tomorrow’s being my absolute favorite. I hope you all enjoy!!!

Day 5: Hurt/Comfort

Rating: K+

Pairing: Qrow/Clover

Word Count: 4.6k

Ao3 Link: Where the Heart Is

Summary: After facing off against Salem's hordes and managing to secure some of the relics in Vacuo, the team stops in Patch for some much needed rest and recuperation. It was meant to be relaxing. So, why was Clover more troubled than usual?

Qrow isn't sure, but he is determined to figure it out. With, maybe, a little bit of help from his family along the way. [Canon Divergent from V7C12]

A series of shouts snapped Qrow awake in an instant and he was already half out of bed with one hand around Harbinger before his sleepy brain caught up with his body and reminded him that he was home and safe. He settled back on the mattress with a groan, running a hand over bis face. A quick glance told him the space behind him was empty and from all the noise downstairs, he surmised he was probably the last one up.

Not that it bothered him much. He so rarely got to curl up under the ridiculously soft sheets and warmth of a real bed, especially his own, why wouldn’t he take the opportunity to lounge around in it for a few extra minutes? Or hours.

Still there was definitely no going back once something got him up, so he resigned himself to preparing for the morning.

By the time he was making his way downstairs, the game the kids were playing was in full swing. Yang and Nora were both standing on the coffee table, scrolls in hand and trading off insults as they tried to decimate the other’s character in Grimm Fighters 3. Ruby was cheering them on in the background. Removed from them, Penny was settled against the far wall, a charger plugged in the back of her bow, but she seemed intent on watching the proceeding battle from her corner.

As he hit the last step, the TV proudly proclaimed, “Fatality! Player 2 wins!” And Yang gave a yell of fury, dramatically falling to her knees while Nora started doing a jig and proclaiming how she was still queen.

“Isn’t this a little much for nine in the morning?” Qrow asked them once the victory shaming had ended.

Instead of an answer, he got a chirpy, “Morning Uncle Qrow!” from Ruby.

“Wanna join us?” Yang waved her scroll invitingly.

“Maybe after a dose of caffeine.” He left them to their own devices, slipping into the kitchen.

Despite the room’s smaller size, it was just as energetic and even more packed. Jaune was wrist deep in an argument with the juicer, while Ren was rolling out dough on the counter beside him. Tai was whipping eggs in a large bowl. Weiss was the only one going about her vegetable chopping task with a bit more slowness, concentrating hard as she tried to coordinate her hands into doing a task unfamiliar to them.

Acting as silent observers, Blake and Oscar were sipping on their respective drinks of tea and coffee. Or, he realized as Oz gave him a friendly nod, hot chocolate. “Good morning Qrow. I hope you slept well.”

“If he’s the last one up, that’s always a good sign.” Tai jabbed, instantly earning forgiveness when he added, “Tea and coffee’s made if you want any.”

He nodded his thanks, hiding a yawn as he carefully reached over Weiss to get a mug. It felt like a coffee day.

So close, he didn’t miss the whisper of, “Am I doing this right?” her tone having a note of frustration to it.

He glanced down at the potatoes she was trying to cube, none of them matching in size or width. Certainly wouldn’t win any of the many awards the Atlas Elite was accustomed too. “Looks good to me.” Her surprise reminded him of another thing she never had – easily won praise. “Maybe cut the bigger pieces in half so it’ll cook the same.”

She didn’t respond, maybe just not sure how to, but the shift to her knife told him she was taking his advice. Qrow left her to it, going across the kitchen to pour himself a cup. As he added the sugar, he finally asked, “Where’s Clover?”

“Patio, with Zwei.” Tai pointed his whisk in the direction of the open back door.

“Got it. Let us know when breakfast is ready.” He said, heading that way. The commotion starting up again from the living room followed after him.

Despite only a few days having passed since their arrival, it all felt exceedingly normal. It almost didn’t belong after all the senseless tragedy that had plagued them on their journey. Haven. Mantle. Atlas. When they finally secured a small victory in Vacuo, managing to seal two relics away, it seemed time to take a breather. To recuperate and plan their next step. What better place for that then home?

He’d like to say Patch had been mostly untouched by the calamity the rest of the world had been facing – but Signal’s provisional closure and the shrinking shelves in the grocery store told otherwise.

While no one in the general public understood why huntsmen-focused schools were being attacked, no respectable headmaster could justify continuing to place their youngest generation in danger until a more permanent solution to the massacres were devised. Likewise, supplies were becoming scare as less people felt safe to travel and even less eager to trade among kingdoms. With less to go around, it only increased more devastating problems – like crime, sickness and starvation. Which brought Grimm. And with fewer huntsmen and huntresses able to come to arms and the ones that were left being stretched beyond thin and past their limits…

Well, the new scars on Tai’s forearm was a precautionary warning about just how bad it was really getting.

If the new blemishes bothered his brother though, he certainly didn’t show it. Then again, he’d been on a permanent cloud nine since their return so it was hard to tell anything right now, but it sure was nice to see him smile so much. Just like it was nice to see the kids enjoying a bit of peace and quiet enough they felt okay to be rowdy and young again.

For once, Qrow also felt like he should take advantage of it all – to enjoy the little pleasures in life while he had them. He knew their break was temporary, maybe only a week or two more before they finally set out again. But right now, all he wanted to do was drink his coffee while snuggled in Clover’s arms.

As he stepped out onto the patio though, he came to the conclusion things might not go as planned.

Clover was seated on the porch swing, motionless beyond the idle hand petting down Zwei’s furry backside. His face was a troubling puzzle of drawn down eyebrows and a seldom-seen frown set in place. His eyes seemed to be far beyond the little grass field he was looking at and, so lost in thought, he didn’t notice Qrow at all until Zwei lifted his head.

If he’d been suspicious before, he knew without any doubt that something was wrong when the former soldier took one look at him and smiled way more widely than necessary and said with a voice full of false cheer, “Oh! Morning Qrow.”

He only did that when he was purposely trying to hide something from him.

“Hey.” He returned levelly. “Room for one more?”

Clover pat the space beside him. “Of course.”

He settled down in his spot, accepting the dog that flopped over both their laps. He propped his feet up onto the firewood rack, the movement rocking them a bit, and languidly sipped at his coffee as he tried to plan out his method of attack.

This was one of the more unfortunate things they shared in common. Neither of them had had an upbringing that encouraged them to get all ‘touchy-feely’ with their feelings, though their circumstances were widely different. In Qrow’s case his was all self-disciplined to deal with the pain of constant rejection whereas for Clover it was the Atlas academy that conditioned students like him into refusing ‘unwelcome’ emotions like sorrow or hurt.

It was one of the reasons he was never crazy about the military. It was like looking at a bunch of hims, and no one wanted to be like him.

“Been up long?” Qrow decided to test the waters carefully first.

“Lil’ before sunrise, I guess.”

So, first one to wake. It wouldn’t have been so terribly unusual for the early riser, if not for the fact they were still readjusting from their more night-based timeclock in Vacuo. The unforgiving desert heat had meant traveling in the dark kept their energy stores higher and their water supply more under control.

Still feigning casualness, he followed up with, “Well, until my ugly mug greeted you this morning, what’d you do?”

“I’ll have you know that I find your face quite lovely.” Clover chuckled, stretching an arm out across the back of the seat. “Honestly not much. Watched the news. I don’t recommend, it was all reruns.”

So, no distressing headlines they hadn’t already heard. That was good.

“Did some warm up exercises with Penny.”

Nothing too unusual there.

“Took a walk.”

That rose an alarm bell. “Alone?”

But he already knew the answer – Clover didn’t take walks. He sprinted. He jogged. Hell, if time allowed, he’d do a mini marathon. But he never walked. The only person in this household who did was-

“No, no. With Tai and Zwei. It was nice.”

Oh Brothers no. What thoughtless things did his best friend spout that had made Clover look like his whole world had suddenly flipped upside down? Did he tell him the skirt story? Please let it only be the skirt story.

“Okay look, whatever terrible things Tai said about me, they’re only half true.” Qrow defended.

“Uh, okay?” Clover only seemed confused. “Actually, we didn’t talk about you. Well – except for the typical ‘You hurt my brother I hurt you’ spiel but, I think I’m pretty used to that one by now.”

He turned away, hiding his embarrassment. “Oh.”

“Guess it was a missed opportunity.”

“Get that evil smile off your face.”

“You’re not even looking at me!”

Qrow looked. It was even eviler than he’d imagined. “Careful, you might give Salem a run for her money.”

Clover barked a laugh, abrupt enough to startle Zwei. His arm fell from the back of the bench to his shoulders, pulling him in just enough to drop a kiss on his temple. “Whatever you say babe.”  

No amount of self-control could prevent him from melting into that touch. Looks like he was getting that snuggling session in after all.

But, at the back of his mind, the question still nagged at him. If it wasn’t about him, then what had it been?

~

He didn’t get a chance to investigate further until a little after noon, when he got the chance to corner his brother-in-law in the shed.

“Sorry, but we didn’t really talk about much. I’m not sure what could have upset him.” Tai told him as he sorted through his gardening equipment.

Qrow sat across from him on one of the stools, leg bouncing impatiently against the footrest. “Are you sure?”

“Maybe I should be more offended here.” He waved a trowel at him. “What makes you so certain I caused the problem?”

“Because you’re you.”

“Oh, you’re right.” Tai placed a hand over his heart, tone full of theatrics, “I, as the better looking one among us, probably made him swoon and now he’s contemplating eloping with me.”

He threw a screwdriver at him. “Not. Funny.”

He grinned cheekily back, setting aside the tool he’d caught between his fingers. “Why don’t you just ask Clover what’s bothering him?”

“In the decades we’ve known each other, have I ever been able to be that direct about this kind of shit? Now, work with me here!” He shifted backward until his shoulders rested against the edge of the table. “Go over with me what you two talked about. Maybe I can figure it out from there.”

“Really not gonna let this go, are you?” He straightened up, stretching out his lower back. “I really meant it though, most of it was small talk. He asked me a lot of questions about Signal and what it was like to be a teacher. We thought up some ideas how to strengthen the Grimm defenses around Patch before we all leave.”

He tried to hold back his disappointment. “That’s it?”

“Yeah? I don’t know what else you’re looking for.” Qrow must have been doing a poor job, because Tai’s expression shifted to something more sympathetic. He wrung a hand through his dulling blond hair, trying to find an answer he didn’t have. “Uh, we talked about Misty Ridge for a bit?”

Qrow snorted. That certainly had been nothing more than idle chitchat. Misty Ridge was just a small mountain range that ran through the island, given its name from the near permanent mist that clung to the cliffs. He wouldn’t argue that they were beautiful to look at; he never failed to admire them from above whenever he went for a fly. Especially this time of year, when they were-

They were dusted in snow.

His eyes went wide as his brain finally made the connection.

“Figure it out?” Tai asked.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “He’s homesick.”

“Oh.”

Qrow fidgeted with a stray nail, spinning it around between his fingers. “All of us have been running from town to town for weeks now. We’ve barely had time to catch our breath, let alone our thoughts. I should have figured when we finally slowed down, something like this would happen.”

It was something he certainly had to contend with on the norm – but at least he had the peace of mind knowing his home would welcome him back. Not so much for the guy who was court martialed out of his position.

What must Clover be missing? The novelty shops he used visit? The sandwich place he brought Qrow to on their first date? The two-room apartment, with his clover-potted plants and paintings of the seas? Or maybe it was the things ingrained in his heart – like the routine of motions he was used to when he got ready for a day full of Huntsman missions and the people he used to spend it with.

His friend hummed, crossing his arms. “So, what are you gonna do about it?”

He shrugged, looking up at his friend. “What can I do? It’s not like I can stuff Atlas and Mantle in a travel bag and bring them here.”

“Very astute.” Tai remarked. “Now that you’ve ruled out the impossible, how about something smaller? Maybe make his favorite Atlesian dish? Or there might still be some wares from Mantle at the trader stalls in the market.”

“I’m not much of a cook. And he can’t exactly take a bunch of junk with us.” Qrow reminded.

He rolled his eyes. “Brothers, I hope Clover doesn’t think he’s dating a romantic.” He waved his hands outwards. “It’s not about him lugging it around, it’s just about creating a familiar space for him. Something he can look at and feel a little less out of sorts.”

Qrow tossed the idea around his head. Would Clover be touched by such a gesture? Or would it just put a bad taste in his mouth? Never mind that he didn’t even have half a clue what to get him if he could find anything.

Maybe he could just bring him up to the mountains? Or- wait! That was it!

“I got it! Come on.” He said, jumping up from his stool.

“Uh?!” Tai flailed as he was shoved towards the door. “You gonna tell me what it is first?”

“In a minute, we need the kids.”

~

The most accurate thing to say about the way Qrow’s life operated was that even his best laid plans never went perfect. That’s why he clung to the background as a spectator while everyone else did the task he’d set them out on, mostly limiting himself to occasionally running messages between the groups.

It was probably for the better anyways – he certainly didn’t have Weiss and Yang’s knack for detail or direction for something like this. Or their general enthusiasm.

“No, no!” The ice princess pointed at the tallest Maple in the center of the yard. “A few more on this tree Penny!”

“Ruby, bring the hose over here!” Yang called from the east side of the backyard, a shovel propped on her shoulder.

The request fell on deaf ears as, with a wicked cackle, Ruby aimed the nozzle at Oscar and blasted him in the back. His resounding screech could have caused an avalanche.

“Young lady!” Tai bellowed over the poor farmhand’s shouts, “If you can’t handle that hose responsibly, I’m taking it away from you.”

Her silver eyes glinted, pointed it his way now. “Just try it dad! I’ll get you next!”

As the war for the gardening tool got into full swing, Blake looked up at him from where she was tacking down the last of the fabric to the porch railing, her smile fond. “I believe that’s the sign for we’re ready.”

“Seems more like a sign to get started before they ruin the surprise.” Qrow replied, watching Oscar wrest the hose free while Tai threw his youngest up over his shoulder, ignoring Ruby’s shrieks and cries for her other teammates to avenge her. He stood from the bench, calling over the field, “I’m gonna go get Clover. So, chill everyone!” He shot a look at his eldest niece and brother-in-law when they both started cackling. “Clam it you two!”

“Go get him Uncle Qrow! We’ve got this!” Ruby encouraged.

Too bad he wasn’t sure if he was ready. The nagging worry that Clover may not like this at all continued to tangle around him like a buckthorn bush. It only sunk its thorns in deeper as he made his way inside and back into the living room area.

It seemed he’d come just in time, because Clover was just finishing up wiping the floor with Team JNR over their friendly round of Remnant: The Game.

“Ugh.” Jaune’s forehead thunked on the table top. “How do you always get the best trap cards?”

“Guess I’m just lucky.” Clover earned every bit of the scathing glare the younger team leader sent his way. “Wanna go again?”

“Might want to pause on that.” He intervened before anyone could speak up, striding forward. “Ruby’s looking for you three. She’s out back.”

Taking their obvious cue, the kids got to their feet, heading out with one last ‘We’ll get you next time!’ from Nora. Clover only chuckled at the baseless threat, beginning to pick up the game pieces.

Qrow collected some stray cards strewn along the floor, eyeing the placement of the board. “Controlling Atlas, huh?”

He shrugged, setting some of the tiny plastic soldiers back into the box. “What can I say? I know it best.”

“’Suppose you do.” He rubber-banded the rest of the stack together, choosing his next words carefully. “You’ve been thinking about Atlas a lot, haven’t you?”

“No more than usual.” He replied, tossing the dice in their little tray.

“Really?”

He wasn’t sure if it was his tone or just his insistence, but Clover suddenly paused, meeting his gaze, pushing that same unerring optimism to the forefront of his smile, “Hey now, what’s with the 4-1-1?”

If there had been a stenographer detailing every moment of Qrow’s life from the beginning to now, the record would show he was not in any way good at these things. So, when he finally explained himself, it sounded harsh even to his own ears. “Cut the act already. You looked miserable this morning.”

“Well, miserable’s not the word I would have used.” He turned away from him, focusing on folding up the game board instead. “Nostalgic, maybe.”

Yep, screwed that one up. He exhaled softly, wishing he could just borrow the other’s softhearted patience for the next five minutes. He rounded the table, taking residence in the spot beside him, tapping their knees together. “Sorry. I just know you have some heavy stuff on your mind and I don’t know how to ask about it without sounding like an insensitive jerk.”

Clover took his time to put the box top on before he responded. “No, it’s not you. Not really. I have been feeling pretty lost lately, but I was hoping you wouldn’t notice. Heh, guess I should have known better then to get something past Oz’s best spy.”

“Damn straight.” His chest swelled with pride. “I don’t get it though, why wouldn’t you want me to know?”

As rare as his frown, the other was suddenly hesitant as he ran a hand over the back of his head. “Because I didn’t want you to think I was regretting coming along with you.”

“I wouldn’t think that.”

He rose an eyebrow, and in a tone nearly identical to the one Qrow used on him, said, “Really?”

“I’ll – try not to think that.” He amended. “But I don’t want my stupid inhibitions to stop you from talking to me about stuff like this.”

“They’re not st-”

“Sshh, stop being my personal therapist for a sec and just listen.” Qrow placed his hand over one of Clover’s, taking a deep breath to calm his own nerves. Nothing to lose, right? “When we started to get to know each other, you saw right through all my bullshit almost immediately. It was – kind of annoying, actually. I’d been building up those walls my whole life and you just leapt right over them. Or, maybe you busted through ‘em with that hard head of yours.” He chuckled softly. “I didn’t know how to handle someone like you. What I really wasn’t expecting was that I’d grow to like it.”

The hand he was holding rotated, until their palms where touching instead, strong fingers squeezing his.

A smile tugged at his lips, the simple touch encouraging him to go on. It was funny. Eight months ago, he never imagined himself speaking like this, open and raw. “There are things I’ve been able to tell you that I’ve never even admitted to my own family before. It’s been so unbelievably freeing.” He rose his eyes, staring into deep teal. “But I don’t want this to be one-sided. What’s happening between us, it’s important to me. I know I’m not as good with this stuff as you, probably never will be, but I still want you to feel the same safety and ease I do.”

“Qrow…” Clover murmured, but words seemed to fail him. Instead he shifted towards him, enough so he could cup his jaw with his free hand and lean his body forward.

Qrow’s eyes slip closed as their lips touch, the lingering caress gentle yet searing. He could have stayed in that moment forever.

So, of course, his scroll buzzed and broke them apart.

He pulled it out, seeing a message from Tai.

What are you two doing? Making out?

Cheeky bastard.

He tapped back a response, reassuring him they were on their way. “I uh, heh, I got so caught up I kind of forgot I have a surprise for you.”

Clover’s face lit up immediately. It was rather cute. “What kind of surprise?”

“You’ll see.” He got to his feet, tugging him by their clasped hands.

It didn’t take more than that to convince his partner to his feet. He led him to the darkened kitchen, the shades drawn to keep the gift hidden just a little longer. As they came to stand in front of the door, he placed his hand on the knob, but didn’t turn it quite yet.

“I know there’s probably a lot you miss about Atlas and Mantle. Things I can’t really bring back.”  Qrow started, trying to cool his nerves. “But I wanted to try to give something to you, even if it’s just for today.”

He kept his eyes on him, even as he opened the door – meaning he didn’t miss a second of how Clover’s expression shifted from curiosity, to shock, to, finally, absolute wonderment as he took in the transformed backyard.

“SURPRISE!” Everyone shouted from their places around the winter wonderland they stood in.

With Penny, it hadn’t been quite as difficult to pull off as Qrow had feared it might. A few sheets of ice, and suddenly they had enough chill to make snow stick. Between boulder-sized ice chunks that the various blade-oriented fighters could shear into shavings and Tai’s old pressure nozzle that turned buckets of ice water into flakes, they soon had the majority of the yard covered – enough that they could shovel the snow into great big mounds. The overhang of the roof and all the nearby trees had real icicles hanging down. For the places they didn’t have time to reasonably cover, swathes of shimmery, white fabric were used instead, ribbons of it spiraled over the porch railing or along the still leafy tree-tops.

As they stepped out into the temporary, magical world, for the second time that day, Clover seemed a loss for words. “I… This is… How?”

“Do you like it? We worked all afternoon on it!” Ruby asked, perched onto one of the many snow mounds Yang had shoveled together.

Penny lifted a finger, adding methodically, “We followed all the exact specifications of a snow day for optimal fun.”

“It’s, incredible.” Clover said, grinning ear-to-ear. “You all didn’t have to do this for me.”

Weiss waved him off first. “Don’t be silly. Of course we did.”

“You’ve become a vital member of our team. If we can show our appreciation of that with such a gesture, then it’s our honor.” Ren surmised wisely.

“Yeah! Now get down here so we can kick your butt at a good ol’ fashioned snowball fight!” Yang pumped a fist in the air, the sentiment quickly echoed by Nora and Jaune.

Qrow smiled at the sound of his partner’s laughter, the mirth wiping away any doubts he’d had that this wasn’t the right call.

Blake glanced around. “Shouldn’t we make teams then?”

“Right! Teams of three!” Jaune called.

“Uh, maybe I’ll just sit this one out-” Oscar tried to back away.

“Nice try lil’ Ozcar!” Nora swept him into a chokehold. “Me, you and Ren are gonna take home the gold!”

“Qrow’s with me and Ruby!” Tai claimed.

“Yes!! You’re all going down!” Ruby cheered.

Yang threw her arms over Blake and Jaune’s shoulders, boasting right back, “Hah! Not when we’ve got Mr. Strategy!”

As everyone continued their false taunts, Qrow squeezed the hand he held one last time, before letting go and hopping over the railing to join his family.

“Hey wait! What about me?” Clover protested. “Don’t you want to be on a team with me?”

He turned around, smirking. “And miss the opportunity to bean you right in that perfect face of yours? No way.”

He looked mockingly hurt, which was quickly wiped away as Weiss announced “That’s fine.” She made her way over to Penny, the android practically beaming over being chosen. “He can be on ours. This is our element after all.”

Clover looked from them, back to Qrow, a smirk of his own growing as he made his way off the porch. “Well babe, you had your chance. Don’t regret it when we utterly thrash you.”

“We’ll see lucky charm. We’ll see.”

The battle lasted until the sun was going down, when the icicles had long ago dripped and fallen from their perches and the snow and ice underfoot was little more than slush and mud. They trekked inside, sitting around the roaring hearth and trading stories over a meal of soup and bread. As the night waned, one by one they started to turn in until only Qrow and Clover were left, lounging on the couch together while the embers faded in the fireplace. Head pillowed against the other’s clavicle, Qrow was content enough he started to drift.

On the edges of sleep a faint ‘I love you’ breathed over his hair.

As he slipped into his dreams, he smiled, because he realized that even if he could never truly give Clover back his old home, things would be alright.

They could create a new one together.

[dragonotaku-justineverything]

Alone Time

(This was an insanely old ask that didn’t get through because Tumblr kept eating it. So instead it was sent by message by the asker, who will still remain anonymous. I’ve had this for over a year and I’m so sorry this follow up took so long. I hope you all enjoy! This will also be posted on my Archive of Our Own page.)

Anonymous Asked: After a fantastic new year’s eve party with friends and family. Jaune and Blake decide to finally sit down and relax within the belladonna household. All was quiet until the 2 notice something......they were all alone. Mainly due to Kali and Ghira running out to do some errands for the duo. Realizing that they have the mansion to themselves the 2 decide to have a bit of “fun” with each other 😏.

{Alone Time}

Kinks: Anal, Blowjob with prostate massage, ball sucking, pile-driver or Amazon position you choose.

Jaune Arc let out an exasperated sigh when he plopped down on the Belladonna’s sofa in their living room. His butt sank comfortably into the cushion and his arms resting on the back of the couch. It had been a long day. Friends of the Belladonna family had dropped in and out all day during their party. As Blake’s fiancé, since last week, Mrs. Belladonna thought he needed to be introduced to all the people the Belladonna’s had known for years. Every introduction was awkward for Jaune, but he thinks he made mostly good impressions. It helped when Blake was with him, but most of the time it was Kali dragging him off to go meet people.

Now it was finally over. He could sit down and just relax. He threw his head back and let out another sigh, trying to get all the exhaustion out of his system. That’s when he felt two soft mounds followed by some weight land in his lap. He let out a dramatic “Oof” and looked to see what was in his lap. 

It was his fiancée, one Blake Belladonna. She had sat in his lap and leaned back into Jaune’s chest. She turned her head to look behind her at Jaune and gave him a small smile. Jaune returned her smile while he gently wrapped his arms around her waist. “Hey Blake.”

“Hello Jaune. Are you tired?”

Jaune shrugged weakly. “A bit yeah. Just did a lot of talking today.”

Blake nodded her head, accidentally making her soft hair brush Jaune’s face, and leaned back deeper into Jaune so her head was next to his. “Yeah, I bet. Sorry about my Mom.”

“Oh please, it’s fine. I didn’t mind really. She was excited her future son-in-law.”

Blake chuckled at that. She lifted her hand up to look her engagement ring yet again. It looked just as beautiful as the day Jaune proposed to her. “Yeah. I guess she did. Dad usually can hold her back, but he stood no chance today.”

Jaune barked out a laugh. “Hahaha he sure can have his hands full sometimes.” There was a pause, then he asked, “Speaking of them, where are your parents? I haven’t seen or heard them since the fireworks went off.”

“They said they were going out to town to run a few quick errands.”

“Really? But it’s past mid-” Jaune stopped his questioning when he realized something. “So we’re all alone right now?”

Blake let her smile turn sultry and looked sideways at Jaune. “Yup. For an hour most likely.”

“So you wanna...you know...bedroom?”

“Do I want to go upstairs and have sex with my amazing fiancé after almost two weeks of abstinence?” Blake shook her soft butt in Jaune’s lap, getting a bulge to slow rise. “I’d say,” Blake leaned in towards Jaune, and whispered in his ear, “I’m going to put something on that I’ve been saving, and you’d better be there ready to plow me into the bed~.” Blake finished her threat by softly licking Jaune’s earlobe. After that, she got up a sauntered off up the stairs. Jaune watched her leave, more specifically her ass as it swayed side to side. However, once her hypnotic cheeks were out of sight, Jaune snapped back to his senses and rushed up the stairs after Blake had already entered the bathroom to change.

Five minutes later and Blake entered her bedroom and smiled at seeing Jaune laying on the bed. His shirt was already off and on the floor, revealing his defined pecs and noticeable six-pack abs. Blake licked her lips as she leaned against the door frame and spoke. “Good boy Jaune. What do you think of my little surprise?”

Jaune looked over to the doorway at the sound of Blake’s voice, and immediately went slacked jawed. She was wearing a dark purple corset that pushed up and squeezed her breasts in a perfect way. They looked even bigger and firmer than they already were. Jaune’s unblinking stare trailed down Blake’s body. The corset hugged her waist and showed how slim it was. Further down, Blake had paired the corset with some sexy black underwear. Not a thong, but with the way it was enveloped between her big ass cheeks, it might as well have been. 

Jaune managed to close his mouth and speak. “It’s beautiful. Like you.”

Blake stopped leaning on the door frame and sashayed over to Jaune, swaying her hips with every step. “Flatterer. And I love that cheesy side of you.” Blake now stood in front of Jaune at the side of the bed. “Now since we might not have much time, and I’ve been beyond horny the last two weeks, we are NOT doing foreplay.” Blake dropped down to her knees in front of Jaune. “Let me get these pants off of you~.”

Blake nimbly raised her hands up to Jaune’s jeans. She wasted no time unbuttoning and unzipping them, all the while smiling up at Jaune with a hunger obvious in her amber eyes.

In seconds, Jaune’s pants were pulled down around his ankles and his boxers followed. Blake moved her gaze down to her favorite snack, now at full mast in anticipation and was now free from its confines. She licked her lips and leaned in, letting the hard dick rest against her face. Doing so showed just how well endowed Jaune was, a full nine inches. A full nine inches that Blake hadn’t gotten to enjoy since they boarded the ship to Menagerie.

Well that losing streak ends right now. Blake started by giving her fiancé’s balls a swift lick, then taking one into her mouth, getting Jaune to groan. Blake rolled her tongue around Jaune’s ball in slow circles. She felt the familiar texture and her missed it dearly, and obviously Jaune had too. Blake pulled off and repeated the process with Jaune’s other ball. 

She stopped her tongue right under his ball and bounced it up a few times, then started to suck on it, seemingly trying to pull it deeper into her mouth. Then in the blink of an eye, opened her mouth just enough to bring his other full testicle into her warm cavern. Now the cat Faunus was rolling both of Jaune’s balls around in her mouth with her tongue.

Between his moans, Jaune managed to find his voice. “You’re being quite a tease Blake, what happened to no foreplay?”

Blake chuckled in the back of her throat and released Jaune’s tasty balls. She gave his sack one last, quick lick and spoke, “I just wanted to see how much cum you’ve been storing up for me. When was the last time you got some relief? Your balls feel so full! They’re holding so much cum, and I want them emptied inside me. Every. Last. Drop.”

Without another word, Blake moved her lips to wrap around the tip of Jaune’s cock. Then with a wink up to her love, she slide five inches down his shaft on the first go. With practiced ease, Blake lips hugged Jaune’s dick tightly and squeezed it as she brought her head back up.  When only Jaune’s tip was left in her mouth, Blake flicked her tongue over it before swiftly shoving her head back down into Jaune’s crotch. She reached deeper this time without too much effort. She began to fall back into her preferred rhythm when sucking Jaune off. Judging by the noises Jaune was making, it was still just as effective too.

The moment Blake had took his dick into her warm mouth, Jaune felt himself melt into the pleasure. He actually had to brace himself up by placing his hands behind him on the bed. He threw his head back and moaned out, “Fuck Blake your mouth feels just as amazing as always! You suck my fucking dick like a pro!” 

Blake seemed to appreciate what Jaune said because she started to bob her head faster. She didn’t reach as deep, but her speed alone made Jaune gasp for breath. She rubbed her tongue along whatever length of delicious cock she took into her eager mouth, and Jaune felt everything bring him closer to the edge. The two weeks he had gone without any form of pleasure or release were really working against Jaune at the moment. Only two minutes after the blowjob had started and Jaune felt his cock pulse and himself nearing the tipping point.

But he didn’t want to cum just yet. Not like this.

“B-Blake, Blake! Stop...stop!”

Blake immediately slowed down and pulled off his cock. “What? Was I doing something wrong?”

“N-no no. It’s just that I was just about to cum.”

Blake quirked up an eyebrow at Jaune, giving him a weird look. She slowly traced her right hand up and down his shaft to keep it hard as she spoke. “That’s kinda the idea Jaune.” Her voice then turned sultry. “I want you to fill my mouth and throat with your thick cream~.” 

Jaune’s dick twitched from just hearing Blake’s tone. “I-I was just wondering if you could do that thing again? That you did last time, with your finger?”

Blake immediately knew what he was asking for, and she was getting even wetter from the idea of it. She stopped stroking his shaft and answered. “Sure, but then you need to stand up for me.”

Jaune immediately did so, standing up fully a foot from the bed. Blake shuffled back on her knees to get into a better position. She moved her right index finger up to her mouth and sucked on it erotically to give Jaune a show. When it was nice and slick, Blake reached between Jaune’s legs and pressed it against his tight asshole. With a little force, she pushed her finger in. 

She easily slid in up to her knuckle thanks to her spit, and it was even easier to find Jaune’s prostate. She could tell she’d found it by the way Jaune’s whole body seemed to twitch when she pressed down on the small lump she felt. Grinning at Jaune’s face of ecstasy, Blake repositioned her head and began sucking his cock all over again. 

Now that Jaune was standing, he only had his legs keeping him up. With the blowjob and Blake now pressing down on his little “joy” button, he soon felt himself reaching the edge again. A few more bobs and a particular hard pressing of Blake’s finger, and Jaune reached his limit. “Oh fuck Blake. I’m so close. I’m gonna fill your throat up with cum! Get ready!”

Jaune grabbed Blake’s head, tangling his fingers in her soft black locks, and pushed her head down on his meat all the way to the base so that her nose was pressed almost flat against his waste. His cock entered her throat, and with a slight gag from Blake, Jaune let out a loud, breathy “Fuck!” and came. His entire cock pulsed as long ropes of his cum went straight into Blake’s hungry throat. Soon it was too much and Blake had to pull back a bit to let her mouth hold some of it. That was being filled pretty quickly too.

Jaune finally felt his cock stop twitching. He pulled his hips back, letting his dick pull free from the warmth of Blake’s mouth. Blake looked up to Jaune and opened her mouth to show him just how much cum he had pumped into her mouth. There was a good sizable puddle in her open mouth. 

Blake loved having the taste of Jaune’s cream on her tongue again. After giving Jaune a good look, Blake closed her lips. Then after with one big gulp, she reopened them and showed Jaune her now empty mouth. That sight seemed to breathe a second wind into Jaune’s dick as it grew hard all over again. 

Jaune sat back down on the bed, catching his breath from the intense orgasm he just had. “God of Light, that was as amazing as I remembered.”

Blake stood up herself, licking her lips as she straddled Jaune’s lap, her panty clad crotch pressing his cock up against his stomach. Jaune’s arms were quick to wrap around her slim waist. The soft material of her purple corset felt nice against his bare arms.

Blake looked straight into Jaune’s eyes as she spoke. “While that was fun, it’s my turn now Jaune~.”

Jaune grinned back at her. “Don’t you worry Blake.” Without a word, he flipped the two of them around so that Blake was laying on her back and Jaune was on top of her. This earned a playful giggle out of his future wife. He pulled back to pull her black underwear down her flawless legs. Once they were off, Jaune tossed them off to the side on the floor. He lifted Blake’s Bellabooty up into his lap before speaking. “After all, you said I needed to be ready to ‘plow you into the bed’”. And I am beyond fucking ready.” Jaune adjusted himself to he was on one knee and the tip of his cock was pressed against Blake’s tight asshole, all the while her ass was being arched upward and her back stayed flat on the bed. 

Blake knew this position as she was the one who taught it to Jaune. It was called the piledriver position. She also knew she was definitely in one hell of a pounding as Jaune never held back while in this position. 

Jaune gently rubbed a hand up Blake’s right leg as he held it against his chest. He started to gently press his still saliva covered tip against Blake’s eagar hole, but not hard enough to enter. He did this over and over. “What do you want Blake?”

Blake gasped slightly at Jaune’s commanding tone. Hearing him get assertive was almost always a good turn on for her. “I-I want your cock in my ass.”

Jaune pushed a little harder. “Why?”

“Because I want it. I need it! It’s been so long, please Jaune, stop teasing me and just fill my ass!”

Jaune chuckled. “Good kitty.” Without another word Jaune lifted up on Blake’s leg and thrusted down with his hips. 

SLAP

The combined motions gave Blake exactly what she wanted. Jaune shoved his saliva slick shaft into Blake’s tight hole all the way to his base. Her ass accepted Jaune’s thrust with ease and even seemed to squeeze tighter around his shaft.

For her part, Blake cried out in absolute pleasure. Her eyes almost rolled into the back of her head at the feeling she missed so much. Her ass seemed to fit perfectly around Jaune’s meat, just like always. 

SMACK...SMACK...SMACK

When Jaune began to pull his hips back and pound back down into her, his waist slapped down roughly against Blake’s soft booty. Both pairs of Blake’s ears were filled with the sounds of flesh slapping flesh, the grunts of labor Jaune made while he repeatedly pound down into her ass, and her own screams of pleasure.

“Oh fucking god Jaune! Just like that! Please fuck your little kitty butt-slut Jaune! Pound my ass with that thick dick!” 

Jaune did just as Blake asked. He pistioned his hips down into Blake like a jackhammer. His rhythm was nearly perfect, only skipping a beat when he needed to re-adjust. Blake lost herself to the pleasure shooting through her body from Jaune’s motions. Her eyes rolled up and her teeth clamped shut instinctively. Her clenched teeth made her unable to let out the scream of pure, unbridled bliss that she felt form in her throat as she finally came. Her juices flowed out of her pussy and ran down her front. The front of her corset became soaked in her cum, a nice dark spot forming on the fabric over her stomach.

While Blake came on her stomach, Jaune didn’t stop pounding. Seeing his love cum under him pushed him closer to cumming himself. A few more pounds and Jaune groaned one last time as he hilted his cock fully into Blake’s ass. A second later, and Blake felt her ass being filled with Jaune’s warm, thick cum. It wasn’t as much as he had pumped into her mouth, but it was still enough to make her able to feel it. 

Jaune slowly slid his dick up and out of Blake’s now filled ass. When it was fully free, Jaune looked down to see Blake’s asshole closing, only a small trickle of his cum leaking out. He fell back onto the bed, letting Blake’s ass and leg drop, and rested his tired legs. As he panted to catch his breath, Blake groaned and sat up, her back slightly sore already, and lowered ha hand to rub her ass cheeks that were slightly red from all the pounding they just took. 

After a few seconds of silence, Blake crawled over to Jaune and cuddled up next to him. “That was absolutely wonderful Jaune. Thank you, I really needed that.”

“You and me both Blake. God I didn’t realize how long it had been since our last romp.”

“Well we’re only here for a few more days. After that, we won’t need to hold ourselves off~.”

“Yeah, that’ll be nice.” Jaune yawned widely before he could continue his next sentence. His exhaustion from an hour ago finally catching back up to him. Also the fact that it was past 3:00 A.M. factored into his tiredness. “Blake, you ready for bed?”

Blake lazily looked over at the clock, then back to Jaune and rubbed her head gently against his as she nodded. “That took a lot out of me. We also still need to be up tomorrow for breakfast with my parents.”

Without another word, Jaune shifted his body and lifted the comforter and sheets out from under him. After he slid under them, he held them up for Blake and she slide in next to him. After she was laying next to him, Jaune dropped the sheets back to the bed. He then wrapped his arm around Blake’s waist hugged her as close to him as he could. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, smelling the lovely lavender scent of Blake’s hair. “Happy New Year Blake.”

Blake smiled, closed her eyes, and nuzzled into his comfy chest. “Happy New Year Jaune.”

Together, they fell asleep together in Blake’s old bed. Both of them couldn’t be happier.

...............................

While Jaune and Blake had their fun, Kali and Ghira hadn’t left to run some errands, but had instead gone to an inn within Menagerie. Mainly due to Kali’s constant insistence. They’d been there for only five minutes and Ghira had already started pacing the floor of the room they rented. He had only been following Kali’s lead, but now they were just sitting around for no reason. While he paced, his lovely wife had taken to sitting down on the edge of the queen size bed the room had. 

Ghira stopped moving and turned to look down at Kali. “Kali, why must we be out so late? Blake is probably worried about us!”

Kali waved a hand at her husband to dismiss his statement. “Oh hush Ghira. We’re giving them some much needed alone time.”

Ghira’s eyes widened after hearing what his wife said. “What exactly do they need ‘alone time‘ for!?”

“To have sex obviously. I want them to get started on getting me some grandkids.” Kali said in a tone that made it sound like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Ghira definitely didn’t see it that way. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Kali, you can’t keep trying to interfere with them.”

“I can and will.”

Ghira sighed deeper. “But you shouldn’t! They’ll get there on their own time.”

Kali finally looked a little sheepish. “Oh alright dear. No more meddling from me…. for now.” Kali then grinned mischievously at her loving husband. “You knoooow… there was another reason why I had us get a room for the night.”

Ghira quirked an eyebrow at her. “And what would that be?”

Kali continued to smirk. She moved her hands and started to undo her black and yellow robes. “Blake and Jaune aren’t the only ones who have needed some alone time recently~.” Her robes fell loose, revealing some very flattering black lingerie. “I’ve been pretty needy myself recently, and I know you’ve felt the same dear~.”

Ghira almost drooled at the sexy sight of his wife, a massive tent forming in his baggy pants. This didn’t go unnoticed by Kali. 

“Oh looks like you agree. Now, come over here love~.

Ghira grinned and started to strip as he closed in on his wife. “Of course dear.”

Kali giggled wildly as Ghira pounced. The inn’s room was filled with moans, grunts, and sighs of absolute content for hours.

It was a pretty great start to the new year for everyone.

END

Total Story Word Count: 3500 Posted on Tumblr: January 7, 2020 Posted on Archive of Our Own: January 7, 2020

[maggyme13]

Sugar (10/?)

AN: I apologize for the long wait for this 10th chapter of my Sugardaddy Loki fic.

and THANK YOU to all those lovely readers that reblogged and let me know what they thought^^

Masterlist

Sugar- Masterlist

Part 9

The flight took five hours. Five hours you used to worry about your mother and to make plans on how to give her money without her noticing or her being able to decline.

That task, you failed miserably.

Why had every single one of your family such a thick head?

“My aunt just send me a message. The guest room is free and will be ready when we arrive. She also let me know that dinner will be ready as well. Hope you are hungry, the way I know my family there will be more than enough for two days. At least.”

“Anything else I need to know?”, the man chuckled.

“My Ma has a dog, well Bamby is really my dog, but she stayed behind to guard the house. She is a Pit, not very trusting of strangers but a real cuddle bug once she knows and trusts someone.”

“I am not afraid of big dogs, if that is your concern. What is the general stance on weapons in the house?”

“Not at the kitchen table or around children. Cleaning only on the porch or in the garden.”, you answered like you were reciting, “Why are you asking?”

His only answer was him lifting the leather-jacket he was wearing, showing of a nine mm in a holster right against his rib cage.

“The only one?”

“Do I need more?”, he asked with lifted eyebrow.

“Well, if you ask a cop, probably. The neighborhood went downhill for the last couple of years. But there are mostly older people living, with the occasional low income family. It was no easy area to grow up in.”, you breathed.

Bucky´s answer was only a hum.

“Please prepare for landing.”, came over the intercom and the two of you did as the pilot had asked.

45 Minutes later the jet was parked and Bucky and you stepped out.

“Mr Barnes, the car is waiting. Please follow me through the TSA and then towards the private parking lot.”,  a manager like person greeted your companion but ignored you.”

“Thank you. Please lead the way.”

Not even ten minutes later, you sat next to the man in a dark SUV with slightly tinted  windows.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The streets looked just as you remembered, only a bit older and more run down. Some where empty now and others looked empty but where still lived in.

It has been a long time since I was here.

“You can park the car in the garage. My aunt said she will park Ma´s in the driveway then. It is the one house over there. You see, the one with the white fence and red letterbox.”, you pointed at the house of your childhood.

“Yes, I see. Alright, lets get you the rest home. I am starting to get tired.”, Bucky chuckled.

“Come in, come in. You must be Bucky Barnes. Thank you for tagging along (y/n), though she is old enough to travel on her own, I believe.”

“Auntie!”

“Yes, that is me. Of course she can travel alone, but she is too important for the firm to risk her getting hurt. I am just here for her protection and muscle, in case there would be heavy lifting.”

“I bet you can.”

“Auntie!”

“What?, you have seen his muscles, didn´t you?”, your aunt chuckled, “Well come in, your Ma is waiting for you in the kitchen. Dinner is ready in a bit.”

“I missed you. I should have come home earlier.”, you mumbled, pulling your aunt into a tight hug.

“Munchkin. You took your own way in life. There was no place for me.”

“There is always a place for you and Ma and you know that!”, you almost shouted, “But I know what you mean.”

“Honey, is that you??”, the weak voice of your Mother called out of the Kitchen.

“Yes, it´s me.”

“Well come in! I won´t get any younger!”

“Yes Ma.”

You stepped into your childhood home and felt tears rise, it had not changed a bit.

“Let me take a look at you.”, your Mother smiled,”This job of yours is doing you good.”

“Thank you, Ma. I really like it. But, where is Bamby?”, you frowned at the last part.

“In the garden. Samuel and her don´t get along, so she is outside.”

“Samuel? Who is Samuel.”

“A... friend of your brother.”, Your Aunt huffed.

“Why is he here.”

“Your brother asked him to help us-”

“But he is useless.”

“Ms. Why is he still here then?”

You chuckled. “Well. My brother is a real thick head, so if you don´t want to argue for days and weeks, you just go with it; as long as it does not go to far.”

“Exactly. And Samuel does nothing than sleep and eat. He does help within the household, but only the bare minimum. He is currently out with your brother.”  , your Aunt shook her head.

“Well, I will get Bamby inside and then we can talk.”, you smiled walking to the backdoor where you could see your dog dancing in front of the window.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

It was the third day of you staying with your mother when you met Samuel for the first time. He went back to his room, only to emerge ten minutes later to serve himself some food and beer without even acknowledging anyone of you.

You realized something was off with him, when you took your mothers wallet to get the recipe from your last grocery -shopping trip and noticed the money you had put inside were gone.

I just put two hundred bucks in it. Where is it?

“Bucky?”

“Yes, (y/n), what´s up?”

“I did put money in the wallet, didn´t I?”

“Yes, why?”

“Because there is none anymore.”, you frowned.

“Samuel?”, he asked.

“Samuel.”, you answered, “I have to speak with my aunt.”

“You have to speak with me about what?”, your aunt spoke from the door.

“Money went missing.”

“That bastard.”, she grumbled, “Your brother doesn´t want to listen. He thinks he knows best.”

“Alright. This has to stop. I will go and speak with him.”, you growled.

“(y/n) you don´t have to. You and-”

“No arguments, I will go and make sure he takes this asshole back.”, you growled, “We might not look eye to eye with a lot of things, but a thief in our house- if he won´t call him back, I will ask one of the others.”

“Where are we going?”, Bucky asked.

“Charming.”, your aunt answered.

“Let´s go.”

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-..-.

One hour later the SUV entered the parking lot of the garage your brother officially  worked at as a mechanic.

“Bucky-”

“No need. Boss did a very good background-check on you. We know who your brother is.”, the man next to you spoke.

“And still-”

“You are not your brother.”, was his simple answer.

Smiling, and nervous, you got out of the car and walked towards the office to ask for your brother.

“What do you want.”, his voice growled before you were even half way there.

“Nice to see you too, Happy.”, you greeted him with a warm smile.

“Fuck this shit. What do you want? Are we suddenly good enough for you again.”

“I am here because of Samuel.”, you answered him.

“Who?”

“The brother of yours you left with ma.”

“What about him.”

“He is stealing her money.”

“Ya think?”

“I know. Call him back.”

“Since when do I take orders from you?”, he growled back, hate in is eyes.

“You never did. You never even talk to me, you fucking hate me. I know that. But Ma has cancer and now one of your brothers steals her money. Call him back or I will go to the cops and file a report about it.”, you threatened, causing your brother to puff out his chest.

“Don´t even try and intimidate me. You won´t harm me no matter what, because unlike you, Ma loves me; just as much as she loves you.”, you squinted at him.

“Fine. Who is that, your boyfriend?”

“I am her bodyguard. (y/n), Boss called, he wants to speak with you about a gala next month.”, Bucky answered.

“I am coming. Get Samuel out of the house. And Ma asks if you will be there for Christmas dinner this year.”, you nodded.

“Maybe. Now fuck of, I don´t want the others to see me talking to you.”

“Is was a pleasure. As always. Let´s go. Oh, one last thing. Please answer your phone when Ma calls; she is worried about you.”

“Fuck off.”

Asshole.

“What is his problem?”, Bucky sneered.

“My biological father. I got used to it. He always hated me. I don´t , I don´t want to talk about it.”

“Sorry.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

“Who´s that?”, you mumbled upon returning home.

“Looks official.”, Bucky stated.

“Yeah, bad official.”

–.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Part 11

AN 2.0. So what do you think is going on?

REBLOGS and comments are appreciated:)

Thank you very much.

~MaggY

Taglists:

Permanent:

@jadepc​@pacifyhxlsey​ @thankyoukarenclifford​

@thankyouforanonymity​  @punkrockhufflefluff​

@scarletraine @buckycaptspideypool  @markusstraya @graveyard-groupie @markusstrayya @randomgirlkensy @the-soulofdevil

@marshyrebelcloud

MCU:

@yknott81​    @banner-and-bucky-are-life​ @forext20​ @dyanlzbb​  @so-finster-die-nacht @emmii4​ @bitchwhytho​ @ladyofmyst​   @jilldsumner​ @momc95​ @appreciating-fanfics​

Sugar:

@bits-and-bobs-and-kawaii-stuffs @mimmie666​   @fullranchwolfoperator

@cluelessnitwhit​ @youknowitsclouds @his-paradox @purplerainharry​

@spootgaai2000 @iamsuperjenna​ @nikkipea​   @alexakeyloveloki @timelordy-fangirl2 @girrafeeeeeee @emilyjane44x

I couldnt tag a few of you… sorry.

Want to get tagged as well? Comment, Reblog or send an ask to let me know.

[newstfionline]

Thursday, March 25, 2021

Poll: Learning setbacks a top concern for parents (AP) Parents across the U.S. are conflicted about reopening schools. Most are at least somewhat worried that a return to the classroom will lead to more coronavirus cases, but there’s an even deeper fear that their children are falling behind in school while at home. Sixty-nine percent of parents are at least somewhat concerned that their children will face setbacks in school because of the coronavirus pandemic, including 42% who say they’re very or extremely worried about it, according to a new poll from The University of Chicago Harris School of Public Policy and The Associated Press-NORC Center for Public Affairs Research. Nearly as many, 64%, say they are at least somewhat concerned that in-person instruction will lead to more people being infected, but it’s only 33% who say they are very or extremely worried about the risk. That tension reflects the fears of a nation on the cusp of a widespread return to classroom teaching. More than a year after the pandemic started, more schools are now opening their doors to students or plan to do so in coming weeks.

Home school (US Census Bureau/Numlock) Since 2012, the rate of homeschooling in the United States has been pretty steady at about 3.3 percent. Then the pandemic hit, and according to the U.S. Census during the period late April to early May 2020, roughly 5.4 percent of households with children reported homeschooling. To be clear this isn’t doing school at home—they adjusted for that—it’s yank-the-kids-out-of-the-district homeschooling. By fall, that number was 11.1 percent of households opting for true homeschooling rather than virtual learning through school.

Damage from virus: Utility bills overwhelm some households (AP) Millions of U.S. households are facing heavy past-due utility bills, which have escalated in the year since the pandemic forced Americans hunkered down at home to consume more power. And now, government moratoriums that for months had barred utilities from turning off the power of their delinquent customers are starting to expire in most states. As result, up to 37 million customers—representing nearly one-third of all households—will soon have to reckon with their overdue power bills at a time when many of them are struggling with lost jobs or income. A study done by Arcadia, which runs a service that helps households lower utility bills, found that the average past-due amount by those in its network was roughly $850.

Is bad news the only kind? (NYT) Bruce Sacerdote, an economics professor at Dartmouth College, noticed something last year about the Covid-19 television coverage that he was watching on CNN and PBS. It almost always seemed negative, regardless of what was he seeing in the data or hearing from scientists he knew. When Covid cases were rising in the U.S., the news coverage emphasized the increase. When cases were falling, the coverage instead focused on those places where cases were rising. And when vaccine research began showing positive results, the coverage downplayed it, as far as Sacerdote could tell. But he was not sure whether his perception was correct. To check, he began working with two other researchers, building a database of Covid coverage from every major network, CNN, Fox News, Politico, The New York Times and hundreds of other sources, in the U.S. and overseas.      The results showed that Sacerdote’s instinct had been right. The coverage by U.S. publications with a national audience has been much more negative than coverage by any other source that the researchers analyzed, including scientific journals, major international publications and regional U.S. media. “The most well-read U.S. media are outliers in terms of their negativity,” Molly Cook, a co-author of the study, told me. About 87 percent of Covid coverage in national U.S. media last year was negative. The share was 51 percent in international media, 53 percent in U.S. regional media and 64 percent in scientific journals. Sacerdote is careful to emphasize that he does not think journalists usually report falsehoods. The issue is which facts they emphasize. Still, the new study—which the National Bureau of Economic Research has published as a working paper, titled, “Why is all Covid-19 news bad news?”—calls for some self-reflection from those of us in the media. Sometimes our healthy skepticism can turn into reflexive cynicism, and we end up telling something less than the complete story.

As Europe’s Lockdowns Drag On, Police and Protesters Clash (NYT) In Bristol, an English college town where the pubs are usually packed with students, there were fiery clashes between the police and protesters. In Kassel, a German city known for its ambitious contemporary art festival, the police unleashed pepper spray and water cannons on anti-lockdown marchers. A year after European leaders ordered people into their homes to curb a deadly pandemic, thousands are pouring into streets and squares. Often, they are met by batons and shields, raising questions about the tactics and role of the police in societies where personal liberties have already given way to public health concerns. From Spain and Denmark to Austria and Romania, frustrated people are lashing out at the restrictions on their daily lives. With much of Europe facing a third wave of coronavirus infections that could keep these stifling lockdowns in place weeks or even months longer, analysts warn that tensions on the streets are likely to escalate. In Britain, where the rapid pace of vaccinations has raised hopes for a faster opening of the economy than the government is willing to countenance, frustration over recent police conduct has swelled into a national debate over the legitimacy of the police—one that carries distant echoes of the Black Lives Matter movement in the United States.

Subterranean playgrounds—and refuge (Atlas Obscura) Thought to be the world’s only city with an underground master plan, Helsinki began excavating tunnels through bedrock in the 1960s to house power lines, sewers and other utilities. City planners quickly realized that the space could also be home to retail, cultural, and sporting attractions—and that it could shelter the city’s population of 630,000 in the event of an invasion from its neighbor to the East, Russia. Today, nearly 200 miles of tunnels snake beneath Helsinki, providing a weatherproof subterranean playground. But hidden behind the bright lights are emergency shelters fitted with life-sustaining equipment: an air filtration system, an estimated two-week supply of food and water, and cots and other comforts. “It’s comfortable and safe,” says Eija Kivilaakso, Helsinki’s chief underground planner. “If it’s raining, you can drive into the city center to an underground car park and go straight into department stores from elevators. You can dress for comfort instead of in cold-weather clothes. If the weather is not comfortable, people choose the underground.”

Cars become home for Spain’s pandemic casualties (AP) When the social worker called to tell Javier Irure that he was being evicted, the 65-year-old Spaniard couldn’t fathom that he could end up homeless after five decades of manual labor. “I grabbed some clothes, a few books and other things, wrapped them up in a bed sheet and told myself, ‘I have one more roof to put over my head: my car,’” Irure said from inside the old Renault Clio compact that has been his shelter for the past three months. Irure belongs to the multitude of economic victims of the coronavirus pandemic. He managed to avoid getting COVID-19, but the labor slowdown caused by restrictions on movement and social activities the Spanish government imposed to control the spread of the virus proved lethal to his financial stability, and he lost his apartment. The pandemic has been particularly hard on Spain’s economy due to its reliance on tourism and the service sector. The country’s left-wing government has maintained a furlough program to reduce the impact, but over a million jobs have been wiped out. Catholic aid organization Cáritas Española said earlier this month that around a half-million more people, or 26% of all its aid recipients, have reached out for help since the start of the pandemic. Like Javier, some are living in their cars.

Writer faces prison after calling Polish president ‘moron’ for confusion over U.S. electoral college (Washington Post) Polish writer Jakub Zulczyk says he is facing up to three years in prison after he called Poland’s president a “moron” for saying he did not understand the U.S. electoral college system. Writing on Facebook on Monday, Zulczyk said that a district prosecutor in Warsaw had filed an indictment, using an article in Poland’s penal code that prohibits insults against the head of state. The writer said he had not been contacted by the prosecutor and had found out about the indictment from a Polish news site. International rights groups have criticized Duda’s ruling Law and Justice party for clamping down on freedom of speech and an independent judiciary. Freedom House, a U.S.-based group, has called Poland’s laws related to insults “harsh” and noted that libel should be a criminal, rather than civil, offense.

Rohingya refugee camp fire (Reuters) A devastating fire that tore through a sprawling Rohingya refugee camp in Bangladesh killed 15 people and left tens of thousands homeless, the United Nations said Tuesday. More than 550 people were injured and 400 remain missing. The fire began Monday afternoon at Balukhali camp, one of several such settlements in Cox’s Bazar in southern Bangladesh, which is home to nearly 1 million Rohingyas who fled from neighboring Myanmar.

North Korea fires short-range missiles in challenge to Biden administration (Washington Post) North Korea fired off multiple short range missiles last weekend after denouncing Washington for going forward with joint military exercises with South Korea, according to people familiar with the situation. The missile tests, which have not previously been reported, represent North Korean leader Kim Jong Un’s first direct challenge to President Biden, whose aides have not yet outlined their approach to the regime’s nuclear threat amid an ongoing review of U.S.-North Korea policy. For weeks, U.S. defense officials warned that intelligence indicated that North Korea might carry out missile tests. The regime elevated its complaints about U.S. military exercises last week when Kim’s sister warned that if the Biden administration “wants to sleep in peace for the coming four years, it had better refrain from causing a stink.” The tests put renewed pressure on the United States to develop a strategy to address a nuclear threat that has bedeviled successive Republican and Democratic administrations for decades.

South Koreans Are Furious Over Housing Scandal (NYT) The 10 people bought $8.8 million worth of land in an undeveloped area southwest of Seoul, registering it for farming and planting numerous trees. It’s a common trick used by shady real estate speculators in South Korea: Once the area is taken over for housing development, the developers must pay not only for the land, but the trees, too. A national outrage erupted this month when South Koreans learned that the 10 people were officials from the Korea Land and Housing Corporation (LH)—the government agency in charge of building new towns and housing—suspected of using privileged information to cash in on government housing development programs. The incident has thrown President Moon Jae-in’s government into crisis mode just weeks before key mayoral elections that are largely seen as a referendum on him and his party ahead of next year’s presidential race. Young South Koreans are saying they are fed up with corruption and the president’s failed policies on runaway housing prices. The LH scandal is now set to become a critical voter issue in Mr. Moon’s final year in office. President after president has promised to make housing more affordable in South Korea, but real-estate prices have kept soaring, undermining public trust.

Massive cargo ship turns sideways, blocks Egypt’s Suez Canal (AP) A cargo container ship that’s among the largest in the world has turned sideways and blocked all traffic in Egypt’s Suez Canal, officials said Wednesday, threatening to disrupt a global shipping system already strained by the coronavirus pandemic. The MV Ever Given, a Panama-flagged container ship that carries trade between Asia and Europe, became grounded Tuesday in the narrow, man-made waterway dividing continental Africa from the Sinai Peninsula. An Egyptian official blamed a strong wind in the area for the incident. Egyptian forecasters said high winds and a sandstorm plagued the area Tuesday, with winds gusting as much as 50 kph (31 mph). The Egyptian official said tugboats hoped to refloat the ship and that the operation would take at least two days. The Ever Given, built in 2018 with a length of nearly 400 meters (a quarter mile) and a width of 59 meters (193 feet), is among the largest cargo ships in the world. It can carry some 20,000 containers at a time. About 12% of world trade by volume passes through the canal connecting Europe and Asia.

Work affects bosses, workers differently (Bloomberg) A new survey of 30,000 workers in 31 countries by the popular gaming and social networking service Microsoft found that 61 percent of business leaders said that they were striving, while just 39 percent said they were surviving or struggling. That 61 percent living their best life is markedly out of step with the entire rest of society—23 percentage points higher than the average worker—where 54 percent said they are overworked, 39 percent described themselves as exhausted, and straight up 41 percent of people said they are considering just leaving their jobs, a level of burnout not seen before.

[twodogsoneguy]

Fear aggression

So its time to talk a little bit about Harley. For reference, Harley is about the size of a jack russell terrier, though she weighs quite a bit more at 40lbs. When she was about six months old, and well potty trained, I took her to college with me, living in a dorm on campus. In the spring semester, when she was around nine to ten months old, she was attacked by two stranger dogs outside of the dormitory. There were no physical injuries, and I tried to continue working her, but there are some emotional scars that run deep. It resulted in her washing out of service work, having a bite record, and me dropping out of college to take us back home where we could be safe. Har is what I would consider “fear aggressive”, meaning that she takes the route of aggression when presented with a stressful situation rather than a flight response. It’s not her fault, but it's understandably something hard to deal with. I’m hoping, while we wait for puppy, to be able to work with her a bit on this subject.

To begin this post, I want to talk a bit about fear aggression. I liken fear based aggression in Har’s case to a little like someone who has PTSD, wherein something traumatic happened to them and now they feel things are out of their control and stressed about bad things happening. Not every fear aggressive dog is that way because of something bad happening though; sometimes it can be a temperament fault that can be seen from puppyhood. These dogs are often shy and skittish as pups, and if not properly socialized, may become fear biters when they get older. Har was an outgoing, lively pup and while we had some talks about resource guarding, I wouldn’t have pegged her in an aggression category based on her puppyhood alone. For fun, I used to put her kibble in cardboard boxes or plastic clamshells to bat around and destroy, whereas if we did that now she would cower away from the box or ignore it all together. But fear aggression is caused by the dog being fearful of something and not feeling like they have any other choice to get away from whatever is causing them distress other than to act aggressive and possibly bite. 

There is something to be said for watching your dog for the warning signs. One of the things that I did with Har, and I feel so bad now that I know better, was put her in situations that she was uncomfortable in regularly. There's little signs you can watch for to tell if your dog is uncomfortable with their surroundings, like ears being held back or posturing in a way that seems unnatural, tail tucked or being “hunched”, extra drooling or panting etc. Most dogs go through a series of these reactions before becoming aggressive, it doesn’t just happen out of the blue. But what can happen, and this became the case with Har after she was attacked, is that if their boundaries are repeatedly ignored over and over again, that period of warning gets smaller and smaller until it almost seems as if there’s no warning before the bite/aggressive behavior. This happens a lot with smaller dogs, because their owners are so used to being able to pick them up and put them places, or position them how they want with little effort or consent on the dogs part. 

One of the biggest things that helped repair Har and I’s relationship was working on learning what her boundaries were and teaching her I would respect them. We started with “come for love”, which means that when I say that phrase, she has the option of coming to me and getting lots of pets and cuddles, and if she stays where she is, I leave her alone. Another thing we’ve been working on is “pick you up”, which is something she doesn't appreciate as much but is sometimes necessary or useful to me as the human. I’m not 100% good about these things, they take lots of practice to get right, but I’ve seen her grow a lot just given what we’ve been able to do. I get a lot more cuddles and love now that I ask for her permission rather than grabbing her and taking it. Autonomy is very important in a fearful dog and them knowing what is going to happen to them before it happens can do wonders for them being more agreeable to the things you need from them than they would be otherwise. 

The other thing about a fearful dog is that it’s hard to get through to other people is that she’s ok where she is. I do want to try and socialize her more, so that when we go in the car its not as stressful and that we can be around other people without going into fear mode, but she’s honestly ok where she is right now without that. She gets lots of love from her select circle of humans, which includes my parents, my fiance, my best friend, and her old obedience trainer. She isn’t wanting for a lot of things, other than maybe going for a walk now and then, which is one of the things I want to work with her about being good on. Our neighborhood isn’t terribly busy, especially early mornings or late evenings, and I want to try her out and about once my health improves. But I honestly don’t see her circle of acceptable friends increasing, except for puppy. She did well when we introduced Athena, they bonded well as cohabitants of the same house and we rarely had fights except over the food box. Sometimes though, I get tired of guests of my parents whining that “Oh just let her out, I’m sure she’ll like me.” It gets old after awhile because she is a fearful, aggressive dog. She may not show that side to her housemates and friends, but she is not and probably will never be accepting of outsiders in her home. Currently, she growls and raises her hackles at the mere thought of the PT who comes by three times a week to help my mom recover from back surgery. She’s always locked away from guests for this reason; I will not allow another person to be harmed, nor will I allow Har to be in her own home and that is stressed in an unsafe way.

Fear aggression isn’t typically something that is cured, but instead managed. Currently Har is doing well being managed, though she is a little bored if I’m being honest. I don’t have any lofty goals for her, or any real goals. I would like to just try things with her, for fun, to see if we couldn’t make her life more exciting and fun rather than spending most of the day lazing about the house or begging for scraps. My goal is to enrich her life, however that may be. 

Also, for reference, Harley has never bitten anyone in my house outside of me. She’s tagged my fiance a couple of times in excitement, but never bitten anyone else outside of her record either. And the twice she’s bitten me? I deserved them every bit because it was when I was still ignoring her boundaries and I definitely crossed a major line. To me, bite laws, especially in the US, are too loosely defined and arbitrary. Where I live, any bite that occurs technically requires a police report by state mandate. I was recently tagged, or “chomped”, during a dog squabble at my friends house where I tried to break up the fight by going for the sharp end rather than the butt. (If you ever witness a dog fight, the best way to break it up is by having enough people to grab each dog and pull them apart by the butt. I’ve also heard cold water does wonders, but ymmv.) When I went to the closest urgent care, they wanted me to make a police report stating that I was “bitten”, which isn’t what happened at all. I did finally receive care, at a local university run clinic, with technically lying but not lying about the dog being owned by a family member that I trusted vaccinated. If I hadn’t done this, the entire household would have been put under rabies quarantine, regardless of vaccination status, and the dog would have a bite record, which I think is stupid over something like that. Bites often don’t happen because of actual malice on behalf of the dog. Some dogs are scared, others protective of their owners, sometimes it's just an accident, or even the human really did deserve it. But under the eyes of the law, all of them fall into the same category, and in my area it's three strikes and you’re out. Dogs are often euthanized because they get labeled “aggressive” and “dangerous” by these rules that don’t grasp the full picture. And honestly? I think we need to accept as a society that sometimes dogs bite. It happens, and comes part and parcel with owning an animal, because at the end of the day, a dog is still a dog. I’m not saying that there isn’t responsibility, a dog owner should still pay for medical care and whatnot, and there will always be cases where the dog is a danger. But I think we need to have more grace for our canine companions, and an understanding that an animal is still an animal, and will do animal things because of that.

[pocketsizedsamwinchester]

You Really Can Get Everything At Costco

Pairing: Jared x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Pregnancy

Costco runs were a regular thing in the Padalecki Household. Your fiancé, Jared, had three kids with his previous wife, Genevieve. So, while the kids were with you and their father, you found it easy to run to Costco and get all their snack food items. You and Jared never tried for a baby of your own, mostly because you thought you couldn't get pregnant and because Jared didn't really want to be a dad of four. But because you thought you couldn't get pregnant, you and Jared were having unprotected sex left, right and center. Nonetheless, here you were, about 30 weeks pregnant. Baby Padalecki took after his or her father: Long and heavy. Other than being pregnant, today was an ordinary day.

"How about we... run to Costco and replenish our snack foods, huh, Sheppy?" You ruffled the five-year-old's hair.

"Yes, Y/N!" Shep cooed.

"And what do you say, Tom?" You asked the slightly older boy.

"I say, yes! We need more snacks." He replied.

"And what about you, Odette?"

She simply babbled back to you. You smiled and started packing the kids up to go. Jared stretched as he came down over the stairs. The boys had worked till three in the morning the previous night so it was going for twelve before Jared got out of bed.

"Where are you going?" He asked.

His morning voice was gruff and he ran his hands through his long hair.

"Costco. You don't have to go, you still look tired. Go back to bed, baby." You whispered, kissing his cheek.

"No, no. I want to come with. Just-just..." he paused to yawn. "Give me a minute to get dressed."

You nodded yes as if to say okay and waited. Jared wasn't long getting ready.

"Are you hungry? You should eat something." You suggested.

"No. I'm not hungry. We can just pick something up after we're finished in Costco." Jared replied.

While in Costco, you took Tom and Shep with you while Jared took Odette with him. The five of you got separated. You weren't quite sure where Jared went, but you were headed down into the fresh fruits section.

"Thomas and Shepherd." You warned, bent over, resting your head against your arms which were rested against the cart handle. "Come back here. You two should know better than to go ahead of Y/N in such a crowded area. We could get separated and I would never forgive myself if something happened to either one of you."

"Sorry, Y/N." Tom said, rushing back.

Shep was right behind Tom as the two took their places holding onto the cart.

"Y/N." Thomas inquired. "Are you Okay?"

... And that's when it happened. You couldn't believe it. It came as a big gush at first, then a little trickle. Fluid, sticky and gross, running down your leg.

"Oh no." You gasped. "Oh god, Thomas."

"What's wrong, Y/N?"

Then came your first contraction. Or what you thought was your first contraction. You realized that you had felt pains like these earlier in the day. You chopped it to be just regular, pregnancy pains. You took a sharp breath as the contraction passed.

"N-nothing, let's go get some to-toilet paper, dude." You stuttered.

"Y/N, what's that?" Shep pointed to the fluid at your feet, staining the concrete flooring.

It was a mix between ignoring the fact that you were in labour and not wanting to believe that your water had just broke when you replied with, "I dunno, buddy."

You stopped again before you got to the toilet paper. Another contraction was ripping through you. They were already so close together and you started to panic.

"Are you okay?" A woman asked.

Her and, who you were supposing was her husband, approached you.

"Have you... have you seen a really tall guy with long hair?" You took a deep breath.

The woman shook her head no. You took out your phone as you started to hyperventilate.

"How far along are you?"

"Thir-thirty weeks. I'm only thirty weeks and my water just broke." You sobbed.

The woman rubbed your arm, "shhh, you're going to be okay."

As if your body weight was too much for your legs to handle, you started to fall. The woman and her husband each took a hold of one of your arms. The woman had bright, shoulder-length, red hair with green eyes and her skin was covered in freckles whereas her husband had black hair and brown eyes. The two helped you lay back onto the Costco floor.

"We need some help over here!" The woman called out.

You quickly handed her your phone, "please call my fiancé. He's in my phone as Jared. Please-oh god."

"Y/N, I'm scared." Tom cried out, sitting next to you.

"M-me too, Thomas." You sobbed.

You took Tom and Shep's hands into your hands and squeezed them tightly. Another woman approached you and announced that she was a doctor.

"My name is Lynne Reid. I'm not a gynecologist or an obstetrician, but I should be able to deliver your baby safely if needed."

This woman had light brown hair and blue eyes. She reached into her purse and pulled out a hair band, then continued to pull her hair up into a ponytail.

"Was 9-1-1 called?" The doctor asked.

As the man who helped you lie down nodded yes, you cried out.

"There's no time! The baby's coming!"

"Okay, Okay. I need you to calm down." The doctor soothed.

As a bunch of Costco workers came to aid the doctor, she continued to speak, "I need a pan of warm water, towels, blankets, string, scissors, a cool cloth and rubber gloves."

Jared arrived a moment later, Odette up in his arms. The man, woman and Dr. Reid helped you up for a moment so they could lay you back down on a big blanket. Dr. Reid grabbed at your pants hem and started pulling them down quickly. Your legs were squeezed together in an effort to keep yourself from pushing.

"Oh god." Jared choked, rushing over.

"Jared!" You cried out.

"I-I'm here." He took a seat by your head, setting Odette down. "Thomas, take Odette."

Tom did as he was told and took Odette's hand into his. Jared pulled your head into his lap as the doctor covered you up with another blanket. She asked that people give you some room. The pain was nearly unbearable.

"Okay, okay. I see the baby's head. You're crowning!" Dr. Reid announced. "On your next contraction, I need you to push."

Jared helped you up and you started to push.

"Good. Now hold it. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Great, get ready for another one!"

"Jared, I-I can't!" You sobbed.

"Yes, you can. You're the strongest woman I know, Y/N. I know you can give birth to our baby. Just imagine! Very soon, we'll have him or her here to cuddle with and hold." Jared cried with you, dabbing your forehead with a cold cloth that one of the Costco workers provided you with.

"I need you to push again, Y/N." Dr. Reid said.

Dr. Reid didn't know your name, but she gathered that much after hearing Jared and the kids say it. You geared up and started pushing again. You cried and you screamed as if all hell were breaking loose. There was a baby coming out of you... so in a way, all hell was breaking loose. You managed to hold the push for as long as Dr. Reid said you had to. Paramedics arrived as you successfully pushed the head out.

"Okay, hang on there, Y/N." Dr. Reid warned.

"What?" You sniffed, propping yourself up on your elbows to try and see what was going on down there better.

"The baby's cord is wrapped around its neck. I am going to unwrap it now."

You laid your head back in Jared's lap as she quickly tried to unravel the cord which was wrapped tightly around your baby's neck. One of the paramedics sat down to help Dr. Reid unwrap the cord, while the other started hooking you up to a portable machine, which took your vitals.

"Blood pressure is high. Let's try and get this baby out ASAP." The paramedic by your side announced.

"Okay, we're almost done. Y/N hang in there, don't push." Dr. Reid ordered.

You held on for as long as you could. You squeezed Jared's hand tighter and tighter with each passing minute. Once Dr. Reid successfully unwrapped the cord from around the baby's neck, she announced that you could start pushing again.

"Now give me a big push, we need to get the shoulders out!"

Dr. Reid counted down as you bore down and pushed.

"Good, now I need one more big one. A really big one, Y/N! I know you can do it."

"BP and heart rate increasing above normal for both baby and mom." The paramedic with the name tag "Michaels" told Dr. Reid.

You pushed as hard as you could again. Before you knew it, you were sinking down into Jared's lap, listening to the sweet sound of your baby's cries.

"It's a girl!" Dr. Reid smiled. "Congratulations! Dad, would you like to cut the cord?"

Jared smiled and gladly agreed. He cut the cord and then took his place at your head again. Dr. Reid cleaned out baby girl Padalecki's airways out, before placing her on your chest and covering you both up with a towel. You held onto your tiny baby as tight as you could before your eyes started to get heavy. As paramedics were loading you up onto a stretcher, you couldn't hang on any longer. You let your eyes fall closed and the last thing you remembered was Jared gathering Tom, Shep and Odette up and telling you to "hang in there". The next thing you remembered was waking up in the hospital hours later. Jared was still by your side, the kids were conked out on the couch that was in your room.

"Hey, honey." He smiled and said softly as he held your hand tightly.

"Hi. Where's our baby?" You questioned.

"She's down at the NICU, Baby Girl Padalecki is doing great for a Preemie." Jared gave you a kiss.

It was soft and slow as if to say "thank you for having my baby" without actually using any words. It was a simple act to show his greatness towards you. Jared took you and the kids down to see your new baby. You stuck your hand in the hole of her little incubator and rubbed her belly.

"I think I have the perfect name for her." Jared smiled at you.

"What is it, daddy?" Tom cheered.

"Yeah? What is it?" Shep added.

"Blaire."

"Blaire?" Tom looked at Jared in disgust. "But Daaaaaady! That's a boy's name!"

"I love it. Blaire Delta Genna Padalecki." You smiled.

"Woah, woah! Two middle names? Where did they come from?" Jared laughed. "Tom, Blaire is a unisex name, which means you can use it for a boy and girl's name."

"Well. 'D' from Delta is like the 'D' from Danneel and the 'Elta ' from Delta is Dee's first name and 'Genna' is short for Genevieve. Incorporating her Aunties." You explained.

"Well, it's perfect." Jared grinned, kissing Odette's cheek.

Odette was up in his arms, looking down at her baby sister.

"Everyone say hi to Blaire Delta Genna Padalecki." Jared leaned over the incubator and kissed your forehead.

You were proud of the little family you made, even if baby Blaire was an accident. And for you to have her at Costco? You can, in fact, get everything there (babies included)!