#middle of nowhere nebraska and i love it

[sakizm]

why did it take me until now to realize that my ireland trip is THREE months away??

[softestqueeen]

hiii ! im a sucker for the early stages of crushing, so i was wondering if i could request a hotch fic where it's chilly out, and you forget to bring a jacket so hotch offers his suit coat to you and it's just so warm and it smells so good that you end up blurting out how much you like the way he smells and how much you appreciate him. aH idk i hope this made sense 😭 ty!! 🫶

a/n: omg anon, i'm literally OBSESSED with this!! i hope you like it <3 warnings: none, pure fluff, almost 1k words (damn)

Most people would say Nebraska is a lovely place to be. Breathtaking views, mostly nice folks and no 100-degree weather like Quantico, Virginia. But you had to disagree.

The team has been called in for a sensitive case regarding four missing children. So, the team immediately grabbed their go-bags and hopped on the jet.

Now having settled at the police station, you realised – you had forgotten to pack a jacket. The one essential for this kind of weather was currently hanging on a rack in your flat. After you had gotten blood on it at the last case, you cleaned it and hung it up so you could pack it again. Damnit, you thought to yourself, you thought you had packed it. Now you would have to try to stay somewhat warm and not catch hypothermia, while also staying sharp so you could get the children in time. Great.

You prayed that Hotch would group you with Reid, so you could stay at the station and work the geographical profile. But with your luck, of course you were chosen to check out the abduction sites – which were all not just in the middle of nowhere, but also in the open aka the cold – with no one less than the unit chief himself.

After hyping yourself up a bit, you were convinced you could do it. The car ride was nice, the heating making it enjoyable, but the moment you stepped into the cold you knew you couldn’t do it. As much as you tried to keep your teeth from clattering and your whole body from shivering, sometimes you could hear your teeth or see your hands shaking when you took them away from the warm comfort of your body.

You hoped Hotch wouldn’t notice it, but who where you fooling? He probably knew you forgot your jacket before you even noticed.

“Why aren’t you wearing a jacket, agent? It’s freezing. Did you forget it in the car?” to everybody else it sounded like everything else he said, stoic, emotionless but after working with him for quite some time you could make out the genuine worry in his voice.

Immediately trying to reassure him you said, “Oh, I think I forgot it at the station, but it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” The moment the lie left your mouth, you both could hear that that wasn’t the truth.

Of course, Aaron had already noticed your missing jacket in the jet while everybody was wrapping themselves in their thickest winter clothing, you obliviously kept reading your book.

He didn’t have to think much before shrugging off his coat and offering it to you, already holding it in the perfect way for you to just slip into it. Ever the gentleman.

“Oh, that’s really nice of you, but that’s not necessary, really,” you hoped that he would blame your reddening cheeks on the cold and not his boyfriend like behaviour. You don’t know why you were this flustered, you were sure he would do the same thing for Emily or even Reid.

“Please take it, you’ve been shivering since we arrived, and I don’t want to lose one of my best agents because of hypothermia. It really is no problem.”

He wiggled the coat a little bit and you were actually too cold to resist the promise of a nice and warm coat. Stepping forward you let your arms slip into the warm fabric before closing one of the buttons in the front.

It was easy to tell that it was way too big, but it was so warm also smelled just like Hotch’s cologne.

“Thank you, but you really didn’t have to, Hotch. I don’t want you to freeze now,” you told him in an almost scolding voice.

“I’ll live. Shall we get back to the scenes, see if there’s anything we’ve missed?” after humming in agreement the two of you fell into your usual rhythm again.

There was one problem – now that the cold wasn’t distracting you, it was his scent that lingered on the coat. And it was not just his cologne but also something that was just undeniably him. Masculine, raw and absolutely to die for.

You knew you couldn’t keep your feelings for the unit chief a secret for long. After confiding to the BAU-girls at a get together in the local bar, the rest seemed to catch on rather quickly too. The only person that was still completely oblivious was Hotchner himself. What would shock you, was that he also had feelings for you, but just genuinely didn’t think that you would like him as a friend or even a romantic partner. And you were also very oblivious to the looks he gave you and how often he smiled around you.

Suddenly his voice brought you back to reality “Is everything all right? Are you still cold? Do you want to go to the station?” Still lost in your own though you answer “Oh no, it’s all right. Your jacket smells nice by the way,” without really realising that you had just said that out loud you add more conscious now, “I think we did what we could here. We should head back to the others.”

Immediately after saying it you turn around and walk back to the car, leaving a baffled and slightly blushing Aaron Hotchner behind. In that moment he was very glad that you didn’t see him.

But now he knew, he definitely had to find a way to tell you how he feels, or else you are going to be the death of him.

a/n: i hope you liked this, if so please leave some notes, likes, reblogs and comments! feedback is very appreciated!

please also consider supporting my ao3: @ softestqueen

requests open!

taglist:@silvermagnolias@milywatermelon@BigBan

[sissylittlefeather]

Moonlight swim 💕

12 Days of Ficmas

Day 7: Moonlight Swim

A/N: I know I am WAY late on this, but I might just keep writing these until I finish them, even though Christmas is definitely over. Oh well. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, smut, p in v sex, stranger sex, unprotected sex, creampie

Word count: ~2k

And bonus:

You love living in Hawaii. You don't usually love all the people who come from everywhere to make your home their escape. But, tourism is the industry and you end up working in a hotel dealing with tourists all day every day. Most of them drive you crazy, especially the middle-aged men from fly-over states who hit on you shamelessly in front of their wives.

You're locked into just such an interaction with a man from nowhere Nebraska one day when you're rescued by a knight in Hawaiian-print cotton.

“Oh, now, come on sweetheart, how are we s’posed to find a good restaurant if you won't come have a drink with us?” The balding man waggles his eyebrows, obviously hoping for more than just a drink. His wife seems curiously on-board with you joining them as she nods excitedly behind him.

“Thank you, sir, but I really shouldn't. Here is a list of restaurants around the hotel.” You hand him a flyer and try to brush him off since you've never been interested in a threesome, much less with an aging couple who came to Hawaii to let loose after their kids flew the nest.

“Sweetheart, we don't want the tourist treatment. We want to know the real good places–” As he puts his hand on top of yours, you hear another voice.

“Hiya honey! You ‘bout ready to go?” You look up at the new voice in shock. Not only is he a complete stranger talking to you like he's known you his whole life, he might be the most beautiful man you've ever seen. Then it hits you: he's Elvis fucking Presley.

“Umm… I… what?” You stumble over your words and pull your hand away from the first man.

“We're still on for this evening, right? I hope you didn't forget. I made a reservation and everything.” He knits his eyebrows together in false concern and you realize what he's doing.

“Yes! Of course!” You turn back to the bewildered couple. “You'll have to excuse me. My shift just ended and I have a date. Please enjoy any of the restaurants on the list.”

Elvis smiles and waits patiently as you grab your purse from under the desk and walk around to the front side. Luckily, it's 5pm and your shift really did just end. When you get to him, he throws his arm around your waist and kisses your temple, guiding you out of the hotel and away from the gawking couple. He walks you all the way to a car in the parking lot.

“Thank you. I wasn't sure how I was going to get away from those two.” He smiles genially.

“You're welcome, honey. I'm Elvis.”

“Yeah.” You tell him your name and he shakes your hand like he's nobody at all. After a beat of awkwardness, you turn to walk to your own car but he calls after you.

“Hey, listen. I know that was a rescue operation, but I really would like to have dinner with you, if ya want?” Your mouth pops open before you can stop it.

“Wait, really? You wanna have dinner with me?”

“Yeah! I just got here and I don't really know anyone. If you want to?” You try to hide the fact that you're completely caught off guard by the most famous man on the planet asking you to dinner.

“Sure. I mean, yes! I'd love to have dinner with you.” He smiles and you almost faint.

“Okay then. You pick the place.” He opens the car door for you and you slide into the seat as he runs around and gets into the driver’s side. You take him to one of your favorite restaurants, a little hole-in-the-wall place that no one would ever expect, and he loves it. He's surprisingly easy to talk to and before you know it, it's dark. You talk even more and the restaurant owners start to eye you because they need to close.

“This has been really great, but we should get out of here.” You giggle shyly. He nods and you head back to his car. Once you get to the hotel, though, he takes your hand and kisses the back of it.

“I'm not quite ready for bed. You know of somewhere we can go to keep talking?” He looks at you with his eyes so innocent and pleading that you couldn't say no if you wanted to. You wrack your brain for somewhere you could take him that might be private.

“I have an idea.” He smiles and kisses your fingers again. Then, you guide him to the place. When you get there, his eyes sparkle with mischief.

“A beach?” He asks as you get out of the car.

“Why not? Nobody knows about this place. We'll have it to ourselves.” You've come here since you were a kid, so you know it's pretty secluded. You get down to the water and sure enough, it's completely deserted.

“It's pretty.” He comments, coming up behind you and sliding his arms around your waist. You look out at the almost-full moon on the water, the soft sound of waves filling the night air.

“This is my favorite spot on the island.” You whisper, enjoying the feeling of having him wrapped around you.

“I can see why.” The only sound is the water as you stand there for a bit in silence. “Let's go for a swim.”

“I don't have a swimsuit?” He pulls away from you and you notice he has started taking his clothes off.

“Do ya need one?” You look at him standing there with just his linen pants on and shrug.

“No, I suppose I don't.” He smiles as you start to strip too. When you get down to your bra and panties, you realize he still has on his pants. “Hey, now, if I'm in my underwear it's only fair that you are too.”

“I'm not wearin’ any.” He grins. “If I take these pants off you gotta be naked with me.”

Without another thought, you unclasp your bra and drop your panties, taking off for the water before he can get a good look. He laughs and follows you, his pants left behind on the beach. In the water, he finds your waist with his hands and pulls you in close to him.

“I haven't had this much fun in a long time.” He teases your nose with his own.

“I find that very hard to believe.”

“No, really. My life is one big set up. This is the most freedom I've experienced in years. Makes a guy wish he could run away.” You look into his eyes and see the vulnerability of truth there. Then, you lean forward and press your lips against his softly. He moans quietly and then kisses you again, his tongue sliding along your bottom lip, begging for access. Opening your mouth, you deepen the kiss and press your body against him. His hands start to roam over your skin, first pulling your hips in tight and then skimming up to your breasts to squeeze them gently. You feel your body respond as he rolls your nipples in his fingers. He kisses down your neck, pulling on your thighs to wrap your legs around his waist. The sensation of his lips pressing against your neck elicits a soft whimper from you and the heat between you builds. You feel his hard cock where it presses against your center and moan into his mouth. He starts to carry you towards the beach, the waves lapping at his legs.

“Need to be inside you, doll.” He whispers as he carries you and you nod frantically. When he gets back up to the sand, he moves to his knees, rearranging you so that you're on your knees on top of him. The tip of his dick is pressed against your clit, weeping precum onto you, adding to your own natural wetness. He holds your ass with one hand and uses the other to rub himself in your wet folds. “You want it, baby?”

“So bad… please…”

“Such a good girl, begging for this cock.” His voice is low and sultry in your ear as he teases you. “Tell me what you want, princess.”

“You…”

“More specific.” His breath is hot on your neck and ear and you need him so badly you could scream, your empty pussy clenching around nothing.

“I want your cock inside me.” You feel him smile against your neck as he pushes the tip into you.

“Good girl. I'm gonna give you what you want.” He moves both hands to your ass cheeks and pushes you down, filling you up slowly. You feel yourself stretching around him and your head falls back. “No baby, look at me.”

He lifts your head to look into your eyes as he bottoms out inside you, groaning.

“I want to see your pretty face when you cum for me.” You moan softly and then he begins to pick you up and drop you on his dick. “Like that, princess. Let me fuck you until you can't stand it. I want you to scream my name so loud the moon can hear you.”

You clutch his shoulders, your nails digging into his soft flesh as he continues lifting and dropping you onto his cock. He's the perfect length and shape to brush your g-spot with every thrust and you feel your climax getting closer and closer. Your pussy begins to tighten around him and he groans loudly.

“Gonna… cum… soon…” You whine and he grabs the back of your hair and presses his forehead to yours.

“Good girl. Cum on this dick, princess.” The sweat cuts salty paths on both of your flesh as you feel the edges of your orgasm closing in. His own release is gathered in his balls as he tries desperately to hold on for you to finish first.

“Oh God, Elvis! YES!” You scream into the darkness as you cum deep and hard on him, your pussy squeezing and pulsing around him. He buries his face in your neck and groans loudly. You feel his stomach tense and then he leans his head back and moans out loud. His face is so beautiful in the throes of pleasure, lips parted slightly and eyes closed.

“Fuck yeah, baby!” He whispers, biting his bottom lip as his cock twitches and throbs and spills inside of you. You tremble as he holds your body close and presses soft kisses to every inch of skin he can reach. Eventually, you both come down from your combined high and he lays back on the sand with you on top of him. His hand tangles in the back of your hair as he massages your scalp with one hand and drags his fingertips up and down your arm with the other. You can tell he needs the contact, so you let him touch you however he wants. His chest rumbles under your ear as he starts to hum.

“What's that song?” You ask, your voice light and airy after feeling so satisfied.

“One from the new movie. I don't know the words but the melody is catchy. Might be a hit.” You lay there on the beach together as he hums and strokes you gently.

The next day, the rest of his posse arrives and he spends his time being told what to do and when to do it. He promises to see you again, but he never finds the time. In reality, his manager doesn't like the idea of him with you– you are too much freedom– so he makes sure to keep Elvis away. You catch glimpses of him in passing in the hotel and his eyes always linger just a little too long, like he's trying to apologize. But you know it's not his fault. You don't hold it against him.

And when the movie comes out and you hear Can't Help Falling in Love, your heart skips a little with the memory of laying on the beach, waves crashing softly in the background, as he hummed it to you in the afterglow of the best night of your life.

******

The End

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @polksaladava @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69 @pxpresley @kxnnxy

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

How do you think Ghoulcy would’ve went down if she had been there pre-war and they met?👉🏻👈🏻 (assuming this is after he’s separated from barb)

Thanks for your patience on this one, babe. I tried to go more general with the response, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized I actually have a fairly specific vision for how these two would have ended up meeting in a pre-war world...

Naturally, I think a Lucy from that era would be from somewhere in the middle-of-nowhere Midwest. Vault 33 is sort of supposed to be in/reminiscent of Nebraska based on the projected images of the corn field and everything, right? She'd grow up somewhere dinky, but not too small; big enough to have a few nice amenities and a tight community that adores her and her prominent father. But, much like we see in the show before her dad's exodus from the Vault prompts her to leave, she'd be restless and always secretly pondering what else could be out there for her. Dreaming of the sun on her face, so to speak.

She'd be restless from early on in her youth, from around the time of her mother's death, and no matter how hard she works trying to force herself to feel at peace, she never truly does. Maybe she goes to an in-state college to get her degree when the time comes, gets a small taste of the kind of freedom and variety living in a bigger city can provide and falls in love with it just a little bit. When she goes back home, she idealizes moving somewhere different, being literally anywhere else as she feels like her life is sort of passing her by.

Honestly, I think she'd be exactly the kind of twentysomething that decides she wants to move to one of the coasts to shake things up. She's exactly the type to get involved in some sort of internship or shadowing program, since that would provide some sort of protective plan to her desires to strike out on her own. Or maybe she'd just up and move to Los Angeles on a "What else am I doing with my life?" sort of whim, whatever savings she can scrape together hidden away amongst the few personal things she manages to drag halfway across the country with her. If she fails, she can always go back home, but she knows she'll never forgive herself if she doesn't take more risks and live her life properly while she's young.

Besides, she wants to be married some day, and her home-grown options for candidates aren't exactly impressive. All the prettiest people live in L.A., it seems...maybe she'll find her partner there.

Cooper, on the other hand, would be sworn entirely off of dating in the aftermath of the divorce; between the antagonism that lingers between he and Barb, the uphill battle he's fighting trying to revive his career, and his desire to protect Janey from the fallout of both, he doesn't have the time or proper effort to give to a potential partner. Nor does he have the desire, initially. Frankly, he's incredibly broken up about the (necessary) dissolution of a marriage that he thought he'd be part of forever, to the point that he's sort of operating under the assumption that he'll be single the rest of his days. If he weren't famous, he'd probably just pay for some company on the rare occasion he feels "lonely" enough to desire it and keep it to that, but he's too afraid of ending up an even bigger laughing stock than he feels he's already become. He can perfectly picture the headlines in his mind.

Instead, he spends the better part of a year working insane hours, taking pretty much any gig thrown his way and doing everything he can to cut expenses. Every dollar saved goes into a fund he's saving up to take Barb back to court...as well as a significant chunk he's hoping to eventually use to buy up some out-of-the-way property. He's dissatisfied with the custody agreement they reached during the course of the divorce; true, his irregular and sometimes brutal work schedule doesn't make him an ideal primary custodial parent, but he's pretty desperate to spend every second possible with his child, the knowledge that the world could end at any minute looming large over him, casting a dark shadow. Part of him fantasizes about picking her up for his visitation time and simply not returning her, disappearing somewhere safe. He can perfectly picture the headlines about that, too.

It all wears on him. He knows he's getting older, that he needs to be taking care of himself so he can be around for Janey, but between all the work and all the stress, he's drinking more and sleeping less.

The two meet once, maybe on some set Lucy's managed to find her way onto or something similar. She tries her very best to not absolutely swoon over meeting THE Cooper Howard, already embarrassed by her own enthusiasm; Cooper tries his best to be pleasant and charming, exhausted as he usually is. He finds their interaction strangely refreshing, though, and after that it's like he sees her everywhere. Her rather meager savings have run out even quicker than she had anticipated, so, like most non-wealthy people in L.A., she has multiple jobs and works whatever side gigs she can fit into her schedule. Sometimes that leads her back into his path, and he always wants to say hello, to chat and ask her about herself. Who is she to turn him down?

Eventually, he offers to hire her on to work for him, personally, both impressed by her work ethic and feeling rather sympathetic towards her situation (the fact that he thinks she's beautiful certainly doesn't hurt, but he refuses to look those thoughts in the face). He feels bad that he can't really pay her what he'd like to, what he thinks she's actually worth, but it's significantly more than she was already making between all her other jobs, so she's nothing but grateful. At first, she runs personal errands for him, returns calls he's too busy for, helps him schlep all his stuff back and forth when he works the "cowboy for hire"-type gigs.

Cooper greatly enjoys her company, enjoys once more having someone to help him tackle life's everyday struggles. Slowly, he begins to open up to her a little, allowing her to become privy to more of his personal problems. She hasn't met Janey, not yet, but he begins to talk more and more about her. Lucy has such a kind, empathetic nature that it's hard to not spill your guts to her just a bit. Soon, he realizes that he's developing actual feelings for her beyond appreciation for her physical beauty. Typically, he'd be able to see that his feelings are silently reciprocated, but his self-confidence has taken a pretty significant hit over the last couple years, leaving him feeling like an old creep salivating over his young personal assistant.

Fortunately, he manages to hide it well enough, though Lucy is quite preoccupied by her own thoughts, anyway.

Her own attraction to him is soaked in embarrassed guilt, as well; she already sometimes feels like a charity case with as kind as he is to her, so the crush she's developing feels like it could easily be contributed to his caring nature and his largesse. Besides, she had a bit of a crush on him as a girl, as well. He does often make her feel special, something she isn't used to on this level, and she tries to convince herself she's simply been taken in by the glamor of movie star Cooper Howard. However, the more time she spends alone with him, the more she realizes how physically attracted to him she is, as well. It makes her feel silly; what would a very established, famous, attractive older man want with her, some nobody from nowhere? You can't throw a stone in Los Angeles without hitting a gorgeous twenty-something. Surely if he wanted someone young, she tells herself, he'd have someone young, someone with more to bring to the table.

However, their twin denial and negative self-talk isn't enough to hide the way they see one another forever. Too many early mornings and late nights working together make them rather familiar with one another, and soon they're both far too comfortable in the other's presence for things to go unaddressed. They both try to put it off anyway, until things come to an eventual head.

When this happens, they don't so much as agree to give a relationship a try as fall into one another's arms and decide to think about the consequences in the morning.

Unfortunately, their relationship doesn't only progress from this point. Suddenly, Lucy isn't just his young employee who people theorize may be dating him...she is dating him. Before, the idea of Janey meeting her wasn't such a big deal, even if he secretly already had his eye on her; now, he'll be introducing his daughter to his girlfriend, which feels like a much more significant event. He loves being with her, but he's hyper-aware of how he knows people are going to respond if they decide to go public, how Barb is going to respond, and he finds it all overwhelming. Lucy notices his hesitance, but she misreads it as him being embarrassed of her, unwilling to claim her, and it hurts her feelings. He wants her to feel secure and validated, but he also doesn't want to rush things, knowing he isn't only making decisions about his personal future, and that there are consequences she can't possibly wrap her brain around until she really experiences them.

These two would have a fairly significant uphill battle to fight, all factors considered. He isn't as perfect as she may have once thought, and as mature as she may act, she's still lacking in real life experience, which sometimes limits her perspective. However, I think between Cooper's desire for a family and Lucy's desire to find somewhere she really feels like she belongs/is contributing to, they could manage to iron things out. Their life together may not look like every other nuclear family, especially as she supports him in his fight to see Janey more and he convinces her to give his Bakersfield dream some real thought, but life is what you make it!

[steppin-on-the-last-train]

A House in Nebraska

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Natalia Romanova was not sculpted for love. But out in the middle of nowhere, safe in the place where time stops, she thinks she knows why the world is obsessed with capturing it.

Based on the song by Ethel Cain.

Warnings: Red Room.

A/N: Pretty sure I haven’t written in like a year and a half. Don’t be surprised if this post disappears in the next twelve hours. BUT... i would much rather this be the start of the revival of this blog. Stay cool.

Natalia shivered and pressed herself closer into your warm embrace. In this place, in your arms was the only place she felt safe. There she breathed easier. The beat of your strong heart against her back always made her eyes grow heavy. 

The winter had been long this year, too long. An extra few weeks of dark days and nights accompanied by breath stealing wind had almost frozen the Red Room in time, and had made trips outside unthinkable. The instructors even kept the younger girls inside in lieu of elemental training; a luxury Natalia herself was not afforded. But time moved as time seemed to do and as soon as the last late snow had begun to melt away you’d shaken her awake and dragged her out here.

She let herself fall onto her back when you got up. Wind gusts pushed through the hole in the wall and blew loose strands of hair against the back of her neck. She wished you’d come back to block it out.

“We need to go back,” you said. She couldn’t see well, dawn hadn’t yet broken, but she knew you were putting your shirt back on.

“Five more minutes,” she protested. She didn’t want to face what horrors would confront her for the day, and the day after that. She wanted to stay here. To rot away in the place she’d begrudgingly learned to dream. “The sun won’t be up for another couple of hours at least.”

“Yeah. And we have an hour’s walk back to the Red Room. Unless you want to start the day off with a shoeless run we have to leave now.” The floorboards creaked in protest as you slid back down onto the floor next to Natalia. You ran a hand through her hair and she swore she could touch the sun. She kissed your cheek, then your chin and your neck before you abruptly pulled away and threw her shirt at her. “Get up.” Your tone had taken on a sharp edge.

Her feet ached from a particularly grueling rehearsal as she trudged down the stairs, skipping the ones with missing or rotting planks. You stood in the doorway staring up at the night sky. A half moon struggled to bring light to the black horizon. The small farmhouse was nothing but a hulking shadow behind her. She still hadn’t seen it without the midnight blanketing its entirety. Old fencing guarded it on two sides and a plot of land lay abandoned on the westside. Grass had never managed to regrow there, when she walked over it she could feel the crumbles of dirt underfoot. Beyond you and the house and the dried land was a yawning expanse of field. The void called to her sometimes, begging her to run into it until she was no more. To set foot where no man had gone before. Freedom. True freedom is what it promised. 

Instead she tore her gaze away from the false promise and nestled into your side. She intertwined her fingers with yours and held tight to what was real.

“We can’t come out here anymore,” you said.

“What do you mean? Did something happen?” Natalia’s mind raced. Had the two of you been found out? This would mark the third spring you’ve made your way out to this little house that felt more like home than the Red Room ever had. The things she would do to protect it.

“No. No nothing like that.” Your voice was quiet as if the day was ending instead of beginning. “But it will. If we keep doing this, I mean. I’ve been thinking real hard about it all winter and–” You went silent then. “You know we have graduation soon and things will change. This,” you gestured in a sweeping motion back toward the farmhouse and toward Natalia. “This is a weakness that won’t be tolerated. It’ll kill us both if we don’t stop.” You started to walk in the direction of the Red Room. 

“I’d rather die than live the rest of my life for them,” she said, catching up with you.

“Don’t say that Natalia.”

“Well it’s true.” She remembered a time when she’d been the one begging to go back for fear of getting caught. You’d said that even if you were killed right there that she would die yours. That thought had comforted her everytime death whispered in her ear since. Where had that girl gone?

“Why now? I know it’s not because you’re scared of the ceremony,” she said, calling your bluff. You ignored her, apparently determined to get back quickly. “Oh, come on. Don’t do this. You can’t just leave me out here and not tell me the reason why.” She shoved you against your chest, halting you but failing to stagger you backward.

“Just drop it.”

“Don’t talk to me like that. You don’t get to give me this place, give me you, and then take it all back because you decide to. You don’t think I understand exactly what you’re going through? Things have gotten harder every single day of our lives but that didn’t stop you from sneaking out here. Then you decided to make this place ours. Ours,” she stressed. “So you tell me what the hell is going on. How can you turn your back on me?”

“Because I am scared!” She was taken aback by the outburst. “Everytime they hit you or look at you the wrong way I want to crush their skulls in. I would burn this entire country down if you asked me to and I don’t know why. It’s against everything I should be and I’m terrified. I shouldn’t even be allowed to see you, much less have you under me all night.” You shouldered past her and doubled your pace. “That’s why we have to forget this place ever existed.”

“Maybe having feelings isn’t such a bad thing,” she said. 

“It is if you want to survive. The new girls they bring in. The ones they can’t wean off from crying.” Natalia felt the weight of a five year old body in her arms. Damn you. And you weren’t done. “Remember when you got back from that mission in Ohio?” Oh she remembered. “When you wouldn’t stop lashing out at the guards?” She shuddered at the thought, even if she didn’t consciously remember much. Reassimilation after three years in America had been rough to say the least. The only clear event from ages twelve to fifteen (more or less) was from the first time you brought her out here. Your hands on her face had woken her up after years of sleeping upright.

“Enough. I get it. You’re giving up.” It was her turn to stalk away. “Go ahead. See if I care.”

“I’m not giving up. Tell me you understand,” you said. “I’d rather lose this place than lose you.”

But you were the one who didn’t understand. Out here all alone with no one but the stars to bear witness was the only place Natalia felt like half a person. The farmhouse, haunted and filthy as it was, had never been just a place to her. It was where she was able to cling to what humanity she had left.  Inside the Red Room the Widow took over and guided her actions with silken webbing. Every night it became harder and harder to untangle herself. She was beginning to question if there was a difference between her and the monster anymore. 

The rest of the walk back was silent save for the crickets chirping their night calls in the grassy sea. Natalia thought about her first trip out to the farmhouse. You’d woken her up the very first night you’d been moved into a two-person room instead of being housed in the dorm with thirty beds crammed into neat rows. She let herself be led outside without protest even as she was convinced you’d brought her away with orders to execute her. She had no place in the world.

Then the house loomed over her and you sat her on a mattress on the second floor that seemed more like an attic and showed her the stars.

“One day I’m leaving here and going to America,” you had proclaimed.

“No,” she murmured.  It was the first word she’d spoken in a very long while. She hadn’t truly been listening but she knew America was no place to go. The West was the enemy.

“She speaks,” you said, looking over at her moon-bathed profile. You tried nudging her with your shoulder but she slid farther away in response. “You want to know how I found this place?” When she didn’t deny the question you continued on. “Well, it’s actually not a very good story, I’m sorry. But, maybe it could be.” She could still feel your eyes on her. Oddly enough she didn’t mind. It was refreshing in a way. To be watched without being scrutinized.

“Well I had to go to the pit to burn some trash and other things,” you said, picking fuzz out of a small hole in the mattress. “And I got my directions mixed up on the way back. I found this place and sat up here for a few days. I thought maybe everything from before was a bad dream and there was no Red Room at all. That maybe I really lived here and some nice people would come back and take me to a real town.” She had thought you were a fool. “But no one came,” you said softly. “I was cold and lonely and hungry. There’s nothing out here, you know. So I went back just cause there was nowhere else to go. But I still come here sometimes, only for the night though. I like the loneliness in small parts.”

Rain had begun to pelt the already beaten roof. Natalia hadn’t noticed the clouds. Water seeped through the rotten wood, landing on the two kids grasping for shelter. A cold raindrop landed on her cheek and she jumped. Beside her, you layed across the mattress and watched the rain through a hole in the wall. It came in a steady drizzle. Pit, pat, pit at a spot near her foot. A sleepy symphony outside with no drumming thunder or cracking lightning. 

After some time, she spoke again. She had missed the intimacy of just sitting alone with another person without outside expectations. She always had to be mindful of herself. Where she looked, the position of her hands, the bend in her knees, her breathing. She brought her knees to her chest and asked. “You said you wanted to see America. Do you want to go to New York?”

 You startled slightly before lifting your head and looking lazily over at her. She supposed you had fallen asleep. “What?” You asked.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said. All she seemed capable of doing was messing things up.

“I wasn’t even sleeping,” you protested even though you clearly had been. “I just missed what you said.”

“When you get to America, where will you go? New York City is the most populated city there.”

You smiled and a broken part of Natalia fixed itself. No one had smiled around her since Ohio. Only Dreykov smiled. Except when he showed his teeth her stomach would twist itself into knots and bile would burn her throat. That didn’t count, she decided. 

“Not New York. It’s too busy there. I will go further west.”

Natalia raised an eyebrow. “California is awfully crowded too, you know.”

“No, not that far, smartass.” You flicked water off your hand in her direction. “Like in the middle. Like, hmm.” You thought for a moment. “Just, in the middle. Someplace where I can live like it is here.” You gestured about the attic and its half missing roof. “Except it’s not so cold and everything isn’t dead. I’ll have a dog and a horse and some cows.”

“Somewhere in the middle?”

“Yeah.”

“Nebraska is pretty close to the middle.”

“Nebraska,” you said, ennunciating the syllables slowly. “Sounds made up.”

“Well, it’s not.” She had studied all fifty American states in her class. Natasha could identify them all on a blank map. She knew the capitals too. Too bad Natalia could not recall even a quarter of them now.

“Alright. Nebraska it is then. Although,” you trailed off. “I don’t want to go alone. It’d be better if there were two of us. You and me. We could both go. We should.”

“I don’t want to wreck your fantasy.” A voice nagged at the back of her mind. She had no place in the world. She had no business running off. The Red Room had given her so much. The thought of turning her back on it made her heart pound against her ribcage.

“You wouldn’t. I’m offering. You’re not so bad. I always thought you were kind of weird. You just show up one day and you don’t talk. You sit away from the rest of us and you’re perfect at everything you do.” Natalia opened her mouth to defend herself but you were quicker. “But I like your hair. And you haven’t killed me yet so everything’s alright. I know at least half of them back there would have tried the moment we got out of sight from the big house. So you can come with me. In fact, I won’t go without you.”

Natalia didn’t ask if you had a plan or tell you off for being ludicrous. She found herself content with the world you had made for yourself and shared with her. That night she had closed her eyes and dreamt of a small house in rural America. Where Dreykov couldn’t touch her and Madame B couldn’t chastise her. She’d wake up and watch the sunrise and forget that she had ever been a killer.

Now, three years later she still saw that picture when she closed her eyes. It was faded and the edges were blood tinged but it was enough. The two of you were now only a half mile from the Red Room, pulled back each night by some invisible rope around your necks.

Suddenly, a flash of light caught Natalia’s attention. A sweeping pinprick off in the distance. A second and a third joined it until there was a line of searching light waving in her direction. You, a dozen paces ahead of her, ducked down and flattened yourself in the tall grass. She followed, not a second behind you and began crawling up toward where you had stopped.

“No. It can’t be,” you whispered. Disbelief stained the words.

“What are we going to do?” Natalia asked. She wracked her mind for ideas. There was nothing out here. No dense wood or deep valley to duck into and hide. No village to seek refuge. They’d never looked before. They couldn’t. The night had been an invisibility cloak the pair of you had hidden under for so long. You’d forgotten that no armor was impenetrable forever.

“When they get closer I’ll run and bait them back northeast,” you said, jerking your head back over your right shoulder. “If you stay down and circle around the westside of the building you can get back in without them noticing.”

“No. I won’t leave you. We can face them. We can fight and then–” For once Natalia didn’t know what came next. “I won’t let you go.”

“Natalia, look at me,” you hissed. She did, paying more attention to the way your lips moved than the words you spoke. “This isn’t up for discussion.” The way your hair fell around your face when it was down. “It doesn’t make sense for both of us to be caught out here.” The moonlight reflected in your eyes. “And you’re— I’m the reason you’re here. I brought you into this and I made you break the rules. I knew the risk and kept taking it anyway.” Your breath fanning across her face. “Now I have to pay the price. I’m sorry.”

Natalia looked back at the pin pricked horizon and the silhouettes now about three hundred yards off. A half dozen people and something else. Smaller shadows moving quicker and closer to the ground than their handlers. One stopped, lifted its head, and howled. Sweat lined her palms then and she became more acutely aware of every rise and fall of her chest. They’d brought the dogs out. And one had caught your scents.

“Oh god,” you said, grabbing Natalia’s hand. “Come on!”

You yanked her up from the ground and took off sprinting straight away from the hound. She stole a glance back but realized she had lost the dog to the shadows of the barren countryside. With a sharp pinch of dread she realized you were rabbits without a burrow. Running only because adrenaline told you to.

At some point you had let go of her and she pumped her arms as fast as she could. Her heavy breaths mixed with yours as you ran side by side. She swept the expanse for something, anything that wasn’t desolate yellow grass or winking starlight that taunted from above. I see you. It seemed to say. And I know how this ends.

A rustling sound was close on her heels. She looked back again and saw it, a hulking beast born from night not fifty yards away. They’d made the girls go down to the kennels once and watch the dogs at feeding time. The handlers threw down whole animal parts. Natalia could never forget the smell of recently slaughtered pig. A leg, a bucket of intestines, an entire lamb head were thrown carelessly down where the dogs paced. There were ten of them, giant monsters with sleek black fur and lolling tongues. A fight had broken out between two of them and chunks of fur went flying as they snarled and tore at each other’s throats. She’d never been told what exactly they were kept around for. Now she knew. 

Natalia prayed as it got closer and closer. For what besides something impossible she didn’t know. The hellhound seemed to gain multiple yards on her with each stride. She could hear its claws tearing up the earth behind her, its gnashing teeth desperate for the taste of blood. Five, four, three, two. She counted but she didn’t get to one. A strong hand found her lower back. She flinched as it shoved her forward, propelling her an extra few steps.

A ferocious growl that tore through the air as a torpedo cuts through water. A scream like none she had ever heard before. She dug her heels, skidding in the brittle dirt as she whipped around. 

There you were on the ground struggling against the black wolf that had finally caught up to its prey. “Get off!” You yelled, smacking the thing with your left hand, hoping to jab an eye or a soft spot on its throat. Natalia cringed as she heard flesh tearing and the squelch of fluid between teeth.

Crack. She knew the sound of a bone snapping well. It was disgusting and wrong but quickly drowned out by waves of growls and agonized screams. The dog threw its head from side to side in pursuit of destroying its prize to the fullest. Splatters of gore flew into the night air like tiny bugs taking flight.

Natalia ran forward to tackle the hound, trying to ignore the awful finality of meat being torn from bone. She and the creature went tumbling away from you. Natalia wrestled with all her strength to maneuver herself on top with the dog belly-up and vulnerable beneath her, but it was stronger. She rolled onto her back in the cold grass, spit and bloody bits flecking her face. Sharp teeth bared and eyes glowing the color of flame hearts loomed over her. She stared back into death’s blazing hand. I will not die a coward, she thought.

Just as the beast snarled for her throat a sharp whistle flew through the air. High and strong it sang the song of purgatory. At once the dog leapt off of her and padded away, following the whistle. For a moment she watched it go, devoured by the night from which it came.

“Natalia.” You groaned. She scrambled to get up and kneel in the dirt by your side.

She checked you over, fearing the worst. Your right forearm was mangled, blood gushing from it and staining her hands. Other than that you seemed to be alright, if she ignored how pale you’d become. “Come on. Get up,” she said, grabbing you under your armpits and hauling you to your feet. What was left of your arm swung limply and smacked against her shirt, painting it a shade darker.

“No, no,” you protested. You cradled the strings of sinew and branches of bone hanging from your elbow as best you could. She wasn’t one to let the sight of blood deter her but looking at you made her stomach turn. “Natalia.” Your gaze burned into her. “You need to get out of here.” Your breath pushed through in ragged little puffs. “There’s still time.”

She grabbed at your good wrist. She’d drag you to the end of the earth if she had to. Shouts rang out, searchlights mounted on automatic rifles lighting the sides of your faces. Natalia was scared in the way she hadn’t been since she’d been hauled back to the Red Room nearly seven years ago. That night she had lost Yelena. Her kid sister’s tiny hand pulled from her own desperate grasp. She squeezed your hand a little harder and you held on because it was all you could do. She memorized your face. In the next life, maybe. When you caught her staring, the tight grimace you wore evaporated into a painful grin.

The yelling was loud now, mere tens of yards away but Natalia refused to give them her attention. They commanded she get to her knees and put her hands behind her head. But didn’t they know it was doomsday? Didn’t they know Natalia Romanova would die with her chest high?

Sweaty and shaky you began to sway in your place next to her. She draped your arm around her shoulder, feeling somewhat comforted being blanketed by your body. She looked up at you even if you could no longer meet her eyes. The guards were on top of the two of you now, lights bright enough to blind and overlapping shouts all clamoring for attention. The sound crashed and broke against Natalia’s crumbling fortress in one big wave. She could not separate the individual commands.

Prick. A tiny dart found its home in her neck. She turned away from the light and buried her face in your shirt. Breathe in. A modest house in the American state of Nebraska. Breathe out. You on top of her in your own bed. Breathe in. Warm sunlight peeking through window slats and bathing her golden. She let herself fall into you.

—

Natalia woke, startled. She felt she had been dreaming of something important, but heavy sleep clouded the memory in fog. Cautious dawn light dribbled in through the windows. They’d be coming for wake up call soon. She looked over at you, still fast asleep in the bed up against the opposite wall. Your arm was handcuffed and chained to the bedpost as usual. Nausea pooled in Natalia’s stomach. She shut her eyes and tried to remember her dream but found it had winked away for the time being. 

Soon enough the door opened and a guard walked in to grant her freedom. She rubbed her sore wrist and began to change into a fresh set of clothes. “Good morning,” she said. It was a small habit the two of you started years ago. Conversation beyond a greeting was too dangerous. Anything less than machine-like obedience during the daytime earned some creative punishment. So this little exchange had to be enough.

When there was no response she looked up at you. She blinked and her stomach plummeted like it had turned to stone. The girl tying her hair up across the room from her was not you. She stared back at Natalia like she had an extra limb and ignored the previous exchange.

In a dizzying rush she realized her dream had not been a dream at all. It had not even been a nightmare. Her fingers hitched as she was tying a shoe. Panicked, she tugged at the knot she’d created and started again. Ghostly shrieks and a growl that hungered for death rang in her ears. Her shirt stank with the mirage of hot blood. 

She looked around the room, searching. It was empty and quiet now, the door left ajar. She knew if she didn’t hurry she’d be late.

Through the old hallway that smelled more like blood and bleach than whatever wood it had originally been. Down the stairs that poured out into the foyer. Taking her place at the end, she swept the line of girls waiting at the front door to be dismissed for the morning run. You weren’t there. Fifteen Widows where there were usually sixteen. No matter how many times she counted, the number did not budge.

“Romanova.” Natalia looked back at the nasally voice of Ivan Petrovich. The man in charge of strength and conditioning grinned. Yellowed teeth heralded a rotten surprise. He laid a bony hand on her shoulder. “Welcome back,” he said.

Natalia wanted to scream. How long had it been since that night? What had they done to you? Instead she kept her mask of neutrality firmly in place and dipped her head in reverence. 

He hummed in that inspective way of his and clapped his hands. “Fiften minutes. Two miles, then report to the dining hall.” Natalia turned away from him and tried to ignore the way her stomach ate at itself. “Oh, and I almost forgot. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, a member has been removed from your class.” Her heart stuttered against her ribs. “Due to unusual circumstances she has been terminated from the program. There will be a tournament among the 18-B class the day following the next as well as a test among 18-A for you. I trust none of you will slip this time.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Now go.”

Natalia tried to grab at the pieces of her shattered soul. The line of girls streamed outside, fanning out two by two. A perfect unit, each individual capable of single-handedly crippling an entire government. Except at the tail end where one piece had been defective and was removed. In a few days time a replacement would appear, but for now the girl with crimson hair ran alone.

Silently but for the sound of her lungs pumping the morning air, Natalia Romanova stopped fighting.

The Widow cheered as it was finally allowed to complete its web. 

An abandoned farmhouse in northern Russia, approximately halfway between Igarka and Vilyuysk waited for wayward visitors that would never return. A ghost was all that remained, guarding its home. If one were to happen upon the house and pick their way up the dusty, dilapidated stairs they’d find an attic. Cobwebs and a holey mattress were all that seemed to stick around. And, if they hadn’t become disinterested or thoroughly disturbed, on the wall, just above the floor they might notice a crude little carving. Jagged as they were, a pair of initials had been stamped there, meaningless but to the artists themselves. Neither had believed in love. Both believed in the other infinitely more than they believed in themselves.

The wind blew. The grass stirred. And time would come to steal this memory like water dissolved stone.

[sunflowercider]

Speaking of getting used to new worlds, here's a handful of dumb things I think about when I think about Suho!Lloyd getting used to being in Lorasia:

There's no plumbing in your faux fantasy medieval world buddy. I imagine he stares grimly at the room's chamberpot the first day, and he tries not to think about the servants handling it other than making sure to compensate them WELL

Another no plumbing thing - no showers in Lorasia. Lloyd probably has no problem taking only baths for the rest of his life, but feels for the servants who have to draw up the water for him and then heat it up. When he learns how to make ice with the orcs I bet he immediately realizes he could also heat up his own water now too. One less task to make the servants do.

The novel actually briefly touches on this a few times but everything being horse powered mustve taking some getting used to. For one, everything is MUCH slower. It takes 15 days to get to Cremo, the city that used to technically preside over the Frontera barony. Lloyd loves getting things done quickly (though safely) so I bet he was pulling his hair out when he first realized that 30 miles would take a full day of travel. Additionally, it's much bumpier. Whether you're on a horse or in a carriage, there's not much cushioning.

It's much much quieter in Lorasia than Seoul. There's no cars or planes going by, there are far less people, and there's no background hum of electricity. I once drove across the US and pulled over in field in the middle of nowhere Nebraska. The silence was startling, but then became very soothing. And I grew up somewhere far smaller than Seoul. I imagine it probably felt the same for Lloyd - weird, then really nice.

Wanna work late? No electricity dude. You know our chronic all-nighter Lloyd would be SO irritated working by candlelight. Yall, candles are not that bright.

It wouldn't be difficult, but I bet it was odd getting used to the clothing. I don't mean the style, I mean that things like elastic and zippers would not be a thing. His pants are probably laced or buttoned together, tailored exactly to his size or with a belt. His shirt has those strings for the Style, but also because that's how you tighten the collar to fit. The underwear, my friends, is probably old school long undies.

Lloyd canonically misses the internet. Fair dude.

Thank goodness Lloyd gets a Title preventing anyone in Frontera from catching disease because I imagine the medicine in Lorasia at the time is. Bad. -thinks about cpsm-

Music is strictly live. No helpful tunes to listen to while you work - if you want music, you need to ask another human to play it for you. Lloyd can't sing worth a damn obviously, but he canonically hums quite a lot when he's pleased or working, so I bet he's a bit bummed there's nothing to hum along with.

I'm sure there's more I'm forgetting, but I just love thinking about the small ways that life is completely different for him, good and bad.

[luminouslywriting]

Chapter 8: Rain Run—The Prophecy (BoB Fanfiction)

A/N: Admittedly, I don't think you're going to like this chapter very much (oops). That being said, please be aware that there is some harassment that goes down in this chapter that aligns with the tags! Thank you so much and as always, please let me know what you think! Happy December! The moodboard is Winnie and her youngest brother Charlie!

Late Spring

Dear Roo (that is how you start letters, right? With a dear?), 

Texas is so damn hot! I know that you’re probably shakin’ your head about me swearin’ in the first line of the letter, but it’s the truth!  They’re lookin’ at transferrin’ us over to Nebraska in a few weeks for further processing.  I knew that the military would be tough (Richie said as much), but I didn’t think it was going to be THIS hard. 

I’m definitely one of the youngest here, but I’m making friends fast, I promise!  I know you said that I should find myself the most skilled pilots and stick close with them, so that’s what I’m trying to do.  There’s this guy here, Bucky—and he’s somethin’ straight out of New York.  I think you’d probably not like him very much, but he’s a damn good pilot. 

Have you heard from Cindy much at all?  I know she said that she’d write me, but I haven’t gotten any of her letters yet.  Maybe I’m just impatient, but that girl is sweeter than a damn peach and I miss her and her curls.  I won’t write too much about her—I know you’re not the sentimental type. 

Don’t worry, I go to church services every Sunday with you in mind.  I know you’d find a way to find me and wring my neck if I missed services.  Though I wonder, the more I hear about what’s going on in Europe and in the Pacific—if any of it really means anything.  Don’t go gettin’ mad at me for expressing it.  I’m just curious, that’s all. 

Anyways, I hope that you’re doing well in Toccoa (even if it is in the middle of nowhere, Georgia).  Please tell me that you’ve managed to make at least one friend?  And if not, that you’ve broken someone’s nose?  That sounds like something my fearless Roo would do.  Anyways, let me know!  Hope to hear from you soon—and maybe when we get leave, I can drop back and see you.  But I’d probably go and see Cindy first if that doesn’t bother you too much.  I’m running out of space and time on this line, so I’ll just end it here!

Love, 

Charlie 

P.S.—their cooking is WAY worse than yours is.  I’d take your burnt meatloaf any day, sis. 

Winnie just chuckled at the letter, a rare show of emotion on her face.  Charlie could ramble when he wanted to.  He was always the most vivacious little kid, stealing blueberry pies right off of people’s windowsills and cutting flowers from people’s yards just for her. He was sweet and that sweetness had a violent edge to it.  He got in more fights than anyone in the family, despite her and Richie’s best interventions.  And that also included Nate—who thought that fighting was fun to an extent. 

But he was still just a kid.  Barely 18 and now gone off to fight in a war—or at least, be trained to fight in one.  It would still be another year, minimum, until he’d be out in England.  And she’d take that any day over losing him right now. 

Setting the letter down, Winnie glanced at the clock.  She still had some time before breakfast would start and she needed to be up. She could start penning her letter back to him.  Briefly, her mind wandered to Charlie’s girlfriend, Cindy. Cindy had been a local girl when they moved from downtown Buford to the richer neighborhoods.  She was a sweet girl, really—

But Winnie didn’t think that sweet equated to faithful or loyal. 

She hoped that for Charlie’s sake, he would get a letter from her soon.  But Winnie wasn’t holding out any hope for that kinda thing.  Still, it was easier to deal with Cindy than it was to deal with a whole string of brokenhearted strumpets that Nate had left behind—

Not that they were actually strumpets, Winnie just knew that they had one thing on their minds. And she hadn’t raised her boys to be like that. 

Thunder rumbled in the distance and Winnie fully sat up, ready to head out for breakfast.  The rain outside pattered against the windows and left everyone in a particularly glum mood for the day. It continued well past breakfast and into the afternoon, when lunch was being served.  Upon Winnie’s arrival into the mess hall, her suspicions of the day were immediately confirmed by the look of distaste on both Reba and Eileen’s faces, the fact that Dick Winters was in the kitchen, and the fact that there was a spaghetti meal being served. 

Sliding into the table with the nurses, Winnie glanced at their small portions.  “Not eating much today either?” 

Reba just sniffed in annoyance.  “You didn’t hear?” 

“Hear what?” 

“They did a contraband bust on the nurses this morning after you left for breakfast.  If Sobel’s gonna make the men run, we’re sure as hell gonna be running with them,” Eileen stated evenly.  “So no, we’re not eating very much.” 

Winnie just let out a slight breath.  “Figures,” she mumbled in slight annoyance.  “What did they get the nurses for anyway?” 

“Unsanctioned lipstick tubes and nylons.” 

“That’s bullshit,” Winnie deadpanned. “What do they expect you to be?  Nuns?” 

“Don’t give them the idea, thank you,” Reba retorted, giving Winnie a light kick to the shin. 

Winnie glanced at the other nurses plates, eying the hue of the noodles.  “My gramps was Italian but I don’t think it’s supposed to be that color.” 

“Well I don’t think the army is trying to imitate the Italians, Doc,” Eileen said with a small smile.  

“Well they’re currently under a fascist regime, so I don’t blame them,” Winnie said, flashing a smirk. 

Just then, Sobel came storming in and blowing a whistle—the men would be running Currahee and the nurses, for their part in contraband, would be running another hill.  “Dividing and conquering, huh?” Reba’s brow ticked ever so slightly. 

The group of nurses—about fifteen of them or so, and Winnie—trudged through the mud and back to the barracks.  They changed into the exercise gear that they had been allowed, and then trudged their way through Camp Toccoa towards one of the smaller hills.  Waiting there was another one of the captains—though Winnie didn’t recognize the man.  

At least this way, there weren’t men staring at their legs or their asses or their chests.  This was a win in every sense of the word—even if the run in the rain was going to be a treacherous slope.  Winnie kept a steady pace in the front, encouraging Reba and Eileen as they went. If they could just keep going right now, then they’d be done for the rest of the day. 

As they jogged up the hill, Reba glanced her way, blowing a strand of hair out of her face.  “You got a letter earlier—you don’t usually get letters.” 

Winnie nearly grinned at that, keeping pace.  “I get plenty of letters, I just usually don’t leave them out where you can see them.” 

“A boyfriend?  A husband?” Eileen questioned on her other side. 

“Baby brother.” 

“Oh that’s kinda boring—unless he’s cute,” Eileen added, eyes flashing in Winnie’s direction hopefully. 

“He’s 18, you’d be bored out of your mind.” 

Reba gave a roll of her eyes.  “That wouldn’t stop Eileen and you know it.  Besides, Eil, you’re only 21—that’s not too much older.” 

“Over my dead body,” Winnie said, pumping her legs up the next stretch of steep hill.  

“Oh don’t be funny—” Eileen insisted, nearly slipping. 

Winnie realized she was slipping at the last second possible—and Winnie caught Eileen by the elbow. If the weather had been dry and there wasn’t a ridiculous amount of mud, Winnie was certain they would have stuck the landing. Unfortunately for the two of them, the mud would not allow for a smooth landing. 

Eileen’s grip sent them both crashing into the mud, nearly slipping into the rest of the nurses.  The rest of the nurses stopped at the sight of the two of them taking a spill into the mud–and for a moment, Winnie and Eileen just sat there, caked in mud and staring at each other with wide eyes.  And then Eileen burst into a clear laugh, smashing mud on Winnie’s face. 

“Hey!” Winnie exclaimed, letting a laugh spill from her lips.  She flung mud right back on Eileen and for just a shining moment, this was not a war. 

This was just two little girls who were forced to grow up too fast.  And they were having fun. 

And then Reba was urging them to get up, eyes wide.  “We’ve got a Captain coming!  Get up, get up!” She exclaimed. 

At that, Winnie shot to her feet, immediately helping Eileen up.  She didn’t mind the fact that mud was caked down her long legs or sticking from her hair.  They had slipped and it was an honest mistake in this rain and mud.  “Let’s finish the run and then we’ll get to a shower,” she said, nudging Eileen. 

Eileen just gave a grin.  “You do have a fun side,” she decided, flipping her braids at Winnie dramatically. 

“Getting down and dirty in the mud isn’t exactly what I’d qualify as fun,” Winnie replied evenly, but the grin on her face remained.  “But I do have a fun side.  Occasionally.  Let’s keep that on wraps for right now.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They had waited until every last man from Easy Company was done with the showers before making their way in there.  Given the fact that they had more hair and a little bit more flexibility in their schedules, it was also just the logical move to make. And this way, men didn’t get any ideas of waiting around to sneak a peek at them.  

The water was lukewarm, almost cold by the time that they finally got into the showers.  Winnie’s nails scraped against her scalp quickly, focusing on getting clean as quickly as possible.  After all—they only had fifteen minutes before they were set to be back in the medical huts and teaching another class to the medics. 

Winnie didn’t mind the temperature of the water.  Back home, most of her showers had been ice cold—she had always insisted on her brothers showering first before she got her turn.  That hadn’t changed until she had gotten a divorce—at which point, Richie had put up a good argument and started advocating that she get the shower first.  It was a noble gesture, but that was just who her brother was. 

Turning off the water, Winnie spared a glance in Eileen’s direction.  “You almost done?” 

“Just about.” 

“I’ll go grab our clothes, then,” Winnie replied, shivering slightly as she wrapped a towel around her and set out for where they had left their clothes, just beyond the row of lockers.  She turned the corner, eyes landing on the empty bench that sat in the middle of the lockers—no clothing to be seen. 

For a moment, she just stared at it, jaw ticking. 

And then one Captain Sobel stepped forward, a bundle of clothing in hand and an unreadable expression on his face. “Looking for these?” 

Oh so that’s how he wanted to play things. 

Winnie kept an even expression, jaw tightening at the sight of him holding the clothing that she and Eileen needed.  “Yes, sir.” 

His gaze trained on her like some sort of predatory thing and her blood curdled at the sensation.  “Rather careless of you to just leave them sitting here.” 

“That’s where they’re supposed to go while one showers,” Winnie retorted.  She didn’t fail to notice the way that his gaze swept over her legs and up onto her shoulders and chest. 

Sobel just gave a nod.  “Don’t worry.  I’ll give them back.  I just want you to answer a few questions.  For every question you answer, I’ll give you an article of clothing back.” 

Winnie had half a mind to punch him—though that certainly wouldn’t have ended well for her.  She didn’t though.  She just stood there for a moment—and the thought of being humiliated and degraded like this, it wasn’t something that she could bear.  And she wouldn’t subject Eileen to that either. 

“Eat shit,” Winnie retorted.  “Sir.” 

Sobel’s face tightened at the words.  “Fine.” With that, he turned on his heel and walked away with the clothing articles in hand. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Reba had waited a whole five minutes after the class was supposed to have started before losing her patience.  It was one thing for Eileen to be late—it had happened a few times and Eileen always turned up.  But for Winnie to also be late?  Now that wasn’t something that was possible.  Winnie was a hard-ass about being places on time and getting the job done effectively and efficiently. 

So for both of them to be missing meant that there must have been a reason behind it.  And God forgive her, but Reba worried what it meant.  Her gaze trained onto the medics, patiently waiting for Winnie and Eileen to make their appearance. 

Her foot tapped impatiently and then Reba rose, gaze sweeping over them.  “Roe‚ you’re with me.  The rest of you, get working on tourniquets.” 

Roe was quick to rise to his feet, following after her.  “What is it, Nurse Garrett?” He questioned curiously. 

Reba’s gaze locked onto him, annoyance shooting through her.  Truth be told, she’d rather handle the entire thing on her own.  But she also knew that Doc Allen—Winnie—happened to like Roe better than the other medics, even if she wouldn’t admit it.  There was something to be said for his candor and quiet loyalty.  

“We’re gonna go find Doc and Eileen,” Reba retorted.  “I’d go alone, but I could use another set of eyes.” 

At that, Roe gave a nod. “Yes, ma’am.” 

It took them a whole fifteen minutes of scouring the camp before Reba had a thought occur to her that she didn’t altogether like.  She led the way towards the showers, nearly grumbling under her breath the entire time.  The annoyance and frustration was not missed by Roe, who wisely kept his mouth shut.  

Coming to a stop in front of the showers, Reba considered her options. If there were, in fact, naked men inside the showers—Reba would survive.  She had administered shots to a good number of men anyway and seeing men in that state of undress wasn’t unheard of.  However—if Winnie and Eileen were indeed in the showers, she didn’t want Roe going in there and making them uncomfortable. 

“Alright, I’m going in.  Can you just—wait here for a minute?” Reba questioned, gaze falling on him again. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Reba gave a dry smile and set into the shower hut, tapping lightly on the lockers as she walked forward.  “Hey, Doc?” 

“Oh thank God,” came Eileen’s voice from the other side. “Our clothes got stolen!” She exclaimed. 

Almost immediately, Reba felt a flash of fury rise up in her.  “Those sons of bitches—” She mumbled out.  “Alright, I’m gonna have Roe guard the door.  I’ll get you some clothes.” 

“Just be quick,” Winnie commanded in an annoyed tone. 

By the time that Reba returned with the clothes in hand, it was clear that Roe had a clear idea of what had gone on.  And by the time that Winnie and Eileen exited the showers—with Eileen’s cheeks still tinged pink, Winnie was ready to raise some sort of hell.  Winnie stepped outside, wondering how the hell she was supposed to get those articles of clothing back from Sobel. 

Her gaze immediately dropped onto Roe, who stood there patiently, jaw and fists clenched.  “Thank you for the assistance, Roe,” Winnie stated curtly.  “You’ll keep this little interaction to yourself.” 

“Ma’am?” He asked in surprise. 

“I”ll handle it.  I always do,” Winnie said.  “Now let’s get you back to medic training.  Eileen’s taking the rest of the afternoon off.” 

Roe just stared at Doc Allen for a moment, wondering how she could be so calm and collected under the circumstances.  He had sisters—and if this had happened to them, he would have pitched a fit and thrown a few fists around.  They would have been crying.  But not Doc Allen—she was a cold woman with the focus that only God could give.  He admired the fact that she could pull herself together so quickly and not get emotional about the situation.  

“I’ll follow your lead, ma’am,” Roe finally stated. 

“Good.” 

[vajazzly]

Because Remus "has to climb something" Lupin seems to travel quite a bit, what happens if he ends up at a city/town that doesn't have a climbing gym or any reasonable natural alternatives? Sick parkour moves downtown because the brick wall outside the public library is still technically a rock wall?

i would love to say that he does sick parkour but unfortunately i think the answer is that he simply withers away. whines constantly. leaves as soon as possible. if he is going to be forced to spend time in a city (no one is forcing him hes literally just broke) he needs somewhere to climb rocks or he will act like a consumptive victorian orphan. one time he ran out of money somewhere in like. idk. nebraska. surrounded by corn. middle of nowhere, no rock climbing gyms, looked around and said nope and probably like idk siphoned gas from someones car in the middle of the night so he could make it out of the state.

[toastydoll]

Since rainbow high is getting extremely worrisome w the new line I’ve coped by making my own wave 6 (drumroll please):

Scarlet, Pumpkin, Mustard, Moss, Cornflower, Royal Purple!

Tbh I was just listing off colors I wished we had gotten in a gc and then realized a) they made a rainbow and b) they were all autumnal themed so I made an inadvertent autumnal wave! All with two outfits bc I’m allowed to dream. I want to make them eventually too bc hello my New Year’s resolution is to make more customs than last year.

Scarlett Connell (scarlet red/orange): a multimedia artist with a passion for eco-friendly graffiti, Scarlett Connell hails from the Pacific Northwest. Growing up on the Oregon coast, Scarlett fell in love with thrifting materials from old logging camps and cargo railroads. Her main outfit is a scarlet beanie, a scarlet plaid scarf, a white tank top, a pair of patchwork scarlet overalls, and graffitied scarlet doc martens. Her second outfit is a scarlet oversized flannel, faded rainbow dream t shirt, torn/cuffed scarlet jeans, and short scarlet rain boots. She keeps her makeup subtle save for a bold detail (scarlet tinged lip, blush, natural brows, graphic scarlet eyeliner) and her scarlet hair straight and chin length. Y’all…she’s the red/orange butch doll we’ve all been waiting for.

Paloma Gordon (pumpkin orange): a sweet-as-can-be baking and pastry major from Salem, Massachusetts. Growing up in such an autumnal region made Paloma fall in love with both the flavors and fashions of the season. Her primary outfit is a pair of cropped ankle pumpkin pants, pumpkin crocs, a white chef coat w pumpkin buttons, and a pumpkin orange neckerchief. Her second outfit is a pair of pumpkin plaid woolen pants, a white cable knit sweater w pumpkin detailing, and pumpkin suede booties. Her makeup is soft and warm yet very, very precise: much like her approach in the kitchen, and she keeps her hair in long curly pumpkin orange ringlets, tied back in a high ponytail. I always wished rh would do a baking major since culinary arts are some of the most impressive art forms in the world (we almost got there w poppy).

Amelie “Frenchie” du Mous (mustard yellow): always on point, Frenchie hones all of her high fashion skills from growing up in Paris into a neatly tailored fashion focus. Her primary outfit is a plaid mustard pinafore over a lace trimmed white blouse with bell sleeves, mustard yellow knee high socks, brown heeled oxfords with mustard laces, and a mustard beret trimmed in white lace. Her second outfit is a pair of knee length mustard plaid shorts w matching suspenders, platform mustard leather loafers, mustard mid calf socks, and a white puffed short sleeved blouse with a mustard plaid bow tie. Her hair is straight and long in two tails. We never got a dark academia girl so here she is to fall in love w scarlet

Ivy Pines (moss green): emerging from the woods for the first time in her life, Ivy is ready to bring her foraging gift to Rainbow High! Her art has always been from the forest around her and her family in Northern California, whether she’s crafting her own dyes or whittling intricate jewelry. Her first outfit is an ombré dip-dyed lace maxi dress (white into moss green) with thin straps, an oversized moss green cardigan, knit to texturally simulate moss (look up moss stitch w this specific rough spin yarn istg it looks just like moss), moss sandals, moss socks, and wooden jewelry with moss jewel accents. Her second outfit is moss green crochet pants, moss flats, and a white peasant top w moss embroidery. Her makeup is natural with mossy green eyeshadow, and her hair is loose beachy waves. She’d come w alt heeled feet but both her shoes would be flat :0. She’s the mori girl we deserved but never actually got.

Corinne St. Germaine (cornflower blue): traveling all the way from Middle-of-Nowhere, Nebraska, Rainbow High is Corinne’s first interaction outside of her hometown’s sixty people. She’s not totally ignorant of the world though—she’s actually huge on the internet! Her fashion style has been dubbed Lolita Americana: gold rush pioneer outfits through a cute girly lens. Her first outfit is a cornflower blue pioneer dress with a knee length hem, high neck collar, long slightly puffed sleeves, and white apron, as well as lace knee high cornflower stockings, cornflower leather ankle boots, and a cornflower bonnet trimmed in white lace. Her second outfit is a cornflower wool coat, long cornflower wool skirt, and knee high cornflower riding boots. Her hair would have a soft wave and probably be in a half up style, and her makeup would be soft. In a perfect world she’s also got a parasol >:3

Leanna Royale (royal purple): Known for clothing real life royals and only the most fashionable celebrities, the prestigious House Royale has unveiled its latest stride into the fashion world: a daughter named Leanna. Raised from birth on fine art and livery, Leanna is a princess in all but political power. Her first outfit is a polished royal purple velvet pantsuit with a royal satin shirt and purple velvet heeled pumps. Her second outfit is a silk bejeweled minidress, royal purple bejeweled strap heels, and a royal purple fur stole. Her makeup is elegant and refined, complete with a royal purple lip. Her hair is long royal purple locs in an elegant updo, and yes: she has a tiara. She’s every bit of posh violet wishes she could be (/hj)

I’m gonna try and make these! Bases would probably be whatever I can find that’s cheap, though a good visualization I’m going on rn is based on the color create dolls (scarlet and mustard for green eyes, pumpkin and royal for purple eyes, cornflower and moss for blue eyes). Maybe I won’t go so far to do two outfits but I’ll try and at least make one for each :)

[astralnymphh]

okay this may be oh so niche butt i feel like you could write the most gut wrenching angst based off the song “a house in nebraska” by ethel cain (my fave ever) thats set in the tlou universe 😞 id DIE!

OMFG THAT SONG i love that song and it has burgeoned some possible idea of living somewhere out in the middle of nowhere with ellie in my head— but angst? omg. definitely going to add that to my list.

[one-more-offbeat-anthem]

Whenever a hunt gets tough, it always starts fucking raining, because of course it does. Dean is practically knee-deep in mud, wondering if figuring out whatever has been terrorizing the forest in Middle-of-Nowhere, Nebraska is actually worth it. It’s just been him, his gun, and Cas for the past three hours, and they’ve gotten nowhere but deeper into the woods.

And, of course, Cas isn’t bothered by the rain because he’s a goddamn angel. 

(Maybe Dean shouldn’t call him a goddamn angel, but, well, God has always seemed to hate the Winchesters, so what’s one more thing?)

Cas plods on in front of him, dragging his trench coat through the mud. Dean can practically hear him squinting as he says, “I think we’ve lost the creature, Dean.”

“No shit,” Dean mutters, and of course Cas can hear him, because he stops and turns around, glaring at him.

“Contrary to popular belief, it’s not my fault that it’s raining,” Cas says. 

Dean rolls his eyes. “Let’s just get back to the Impala.” They could’ve used the Angel-of-the-Lord express to get here, but Dean doesn’t exactly love getting zapped, and he didn’t ask Cas to come on this hunt, anyways--Cas had just appeared in the passenger’s seat and Dean had nearly driven off of the highway and turned himself into a human pancake.

The trek back seems even longer, and by the time they get to the car, Dean is soaked through and longing for the motel shower that awaits him fifteen miles down the road. He slides into the driver’s seat and cranks Baby’s engine, and Cas gets in on the other side. 

“Let me,” Cas says, reaching out and laying a hand on Dean’s shoulder. All of the mud vanishes in a moment, and Dean’s jeans are actually comfortable for the first time in hours. 

Dean turns to look at him, and Cas is looking back. 

Maybe now would be a good time to ask why Cas decided to come on this hunt, why he always seems to have Dean’s back. Dean opens his mouth, question on the tip of his tongue--

And then whatever they were hunting in the forest slams into the Impala’s windshield.

[pizza-is-my-buziness]

Fictober Prompt Day Three! Prompt: "Okay. Show me."

Pairing: Deena Johnson/Sam Fraser (Fear Street)

Read story below or on Ao3!

Somewhere near the middle of Nebraska, Sam rolls the window down and lets in the breath of late summer air, sharp and smelling of baked asphalt and the fields they’ve been driving past for what feels like days. The wind toys with the loose strands of her hair, as well as the scattering of candy and chip wrappers, and the carefully copied directions that sit on the dashboard, thankfully pinned into place by a Portishead tape. The action isn’t entirely a surprise, given that sometimes the AC craps out or they need a break from the recycled air and the monotony of the road or, as evening stretches into night and they’re still miles from the next cheap motel, a sudden jolt of fresh air to bring them back to life. But still, Deena looks over at her, eyebrows arched in amusement, and Sam looks, well…Sam looks far too good for someone whose been traveling in a car for three days, the afternoon sun on her cheeks, the wind tangles of her hair caught in the breeze as she leans her head to get a better look at all the nothingness around them.

Deena rolls her window down too to keep her ears from popping, trying to keep half her attention on the empty road, most of it on Sam. “You’re not gonna jump out or anything right?” She teases, mostly. “I mean, I know the drive is boring but-” 

Really, this is a bit of a stretch. If Deena hadn’t already been stupid in love with Sam, this drive would’ve definitely cemented that feeling right in the center of her chest, like the sturdy roots of a tree growing to push out everything but that fact. Because the drive really hasn’t been boring, not with Sam beside her. They’ve cycled through all the tapes they’d brought in a collected three shoeboxes more than once, singing along when the time was right, giving each other shit about the music choices they didn’t have in common, or sometimes scanning through radio stations from every town and city they’d driven through, trying to find something good among the static. Right now, they’ve managed to hook onto some underground college station for far longer than Deena had expected them too, all the way out in the middle of nowhere, Joy Division proclaiming mournfully that love will tear them apart. And, over the steady stream of music, there had been the cheesy, childish car games, endless rounds of I, Spy that had continued until one of them had been laughing too hard to continue. Conversations about what they would do once they finally made it to the end of what Deena is already starting to suspect is an endless road trip to some mythical Oz with a magical, perfect new life waiting for them at the other end. Silences that had felt just as comfortable as all the rest of it. 

Though, there isn’t much to be said about their scenery for the past hour or so. I, Spy would’ve ended quickly enough: something brown, something flat, something endless. Deena can feel the steadiness of it, the rumble of the car, the melancholic mood of whatever college student had programmed this particular broadcast, the endless expanse of earth and sky starting to wear on her, creating a fuzzy-headed exhaustion that certainly doesn’t bode well for the hours they still have ahead of them.

Sam laughs, settling back down in her seat and letting her arm hang out the window instead, her fingers tapping against the side of the car. “No. I just thought we could use a little bit of air.” She looks at Deena, her other hand reaching up to comb through her hair, to brush it back over her shoulders, only for it to be taken by the wind once more. “You okay? Pull over if you want to switch.”

“Nah, I’m good,” Deena assures her and the radio station finally succumbs to the static she had long been anticipating. She pops the cassette back into place, one of Sam’s picks: Weezer and the jarring guitars of “Say It Ain’t So.” “It does kinda feel like we’re the only two people left alive though, right? Like…when was the last time we even saw another car?” 

Sam leans forward, carefully collecting the pages of directions they’d put together over afternoons spent shoulder to shoulder in the Sunnyvale library, road maps and atlases spread out around them, the thrilling promise of escape making them lean a little closer than they might have otherwise. When suddenly everything was tied to the countdown, it all felt slightly more bearable: finishing her classes in Shadyside; having to say goodbye to Sam each afternoon with a furtive kiss several blocks away from the house where Sam’s mother would be waiting impatiently for her return; the memories and nightmares she would rather forget. Deena had planned out most of the route, her mind whirling through miles and hours and the amount of time they could feasibly spend on the road each day, even with the two of them trading off time behind the wheel. Sam had filled in the stops in between, gas stations and motels and those ridiculous roadside attractions like the largest chair or a place that promised a trained alligator wearing a tutu. Most of the time they didn’t really linger, not with all the driving they had ahead of them, the days and days that it would take them to finally make it to Portland. But they had at least stopped in to see the alligator, which had been wearing a tutu but seemed to be trained to do nothing but sit around. 

“There should be a gas station in a few more miles,” Sam says, the papers fluttering in her hands, the wind humid and hot but not entirely unwelcome. “We can get out there and stretch for a bit.” 

At the mention of it, Deena’s muscles immediately start to feel sore and achy, voicing their own complaints about the drive that feels like it’s taken far longer than the four hours they’ve spent on the road today. She rubs at the back of her neck and looks at Sam and feels that bubbling excitement start in the center of her chest, spreading through her with a thrumming fizz that makes it all too easy suddenly to ignore stiff muscles and endless fields. Fuck. They’re doing this. They’re really doing this. Even though it’s been days since they’ve left Shadyside behind, it still feels like it hasn’t fully sunk in, the fact that they’ve left and that every moment spent on this stupid, endless road is a moment that takes them further away. They’ve got everything they couldn’t stand to leave in the trunk the car, suitcases and laundry baskets in the back, and some place to call home waiting ahead of them. 

Sam catches her eyes and smiles and there’s something in her face that lets Deena know that she gets it, that she feels the same way, that it all seems too good to be true. Sam leans forward to stash the directions carefully back on the dashboard, reaching for Deena’s hand with hers, and says, “Would you rather only listen to Madonna or Whitney Houston for the rest of your life?”

They argue over this for the next twenty miles, until Sam finally abandons her point long enough to point out the sign of a rather questionable looking gas station. Though they’re down to a quarter tank and Deena thinks her muscles might atrophy completely if she doesn’t get up right that minute, so they pull up alongside one of the four pumps outside the building. There’s another car, a minivan seemingly full of kids and dogs, a weary looking man studying a map spread out across the hood while a woman fans herself in the heat and checks her watch. Neither of them glance over when Deena pulls into the parking lot and Deena can only sympathize with their weary expressions. Games of I, Spy in that car have surely gotten unruly. 

Sam gets out, stretching her arms and tipping her head back toward the cloudless sky overhead and Deena presses her teeth together because she really, really wants to kiss her, and fully intends to as soon as the world shrinks to just the two of them again. Again, that startling feeling of excitement starts to sneak its way through her, enticing and terrifying all at once, whispering that soon there will be a place where she can do exactly that, always. 

Instead, Deena only watches as Sam disappears into the store to pay for the gas before leaning against the warm side of the car, eyes studying the road ahead of them, the miles and miles to go before they sleep and all that. 

And Mrs. Johnson thought she never paid attention in English class. 

Finally, the bell above the store’s door chimes and Sam appears once more, grinning in a way that leaves Deena feeling both curious and slightly wary of what might have put that particular smile on her face. Sam lifts her eyebrows, coming to stand in front of Deena with her hands behind her back. “I got you something.” 

Okay, definitely more wary then. “What?” 

“Guess.” Sam’s grin only widens. 

“Um…” Deena tries to peer over Sam’s shoulder but Sam just shifts out of the way. “I’m guessing it’s not a Twix.” 

“No.” Sam pauses, considering. “Well, I did get one of those too. But, nope.” 

Deena just shakes her head, feeling a smile of her own start to take root, coaxed on by Sam’s grin. “Okay. Show me.” 

Sam relents, grinning as she brings her hands out from behind her back. She’s holding a camo hat with a patch stitched on the front that says “hey deer” with a picture of a buck beside it and Deena blinks, glancing between Sam and the hat. “Uh…thanks?” 

Sam laughs, pulling the hat down on Deena’s head and tapping the bill lightly. “Perfect fit. I knew it.” 

“Gee, thanks,” Deena says, pulling the hat off and studying it. It’s completely ridiculous and she can’t help but laugh. “It’s just what I’ve always wanted.” 

“I know,” Sam says, leaning against the car and crossing her arms over her chest. “I definitely expect you to never, ever take it off again.” 

“Maybe you should wear it, since you love it so much,” Deena teases, turning to retrieve the gas nozzle so she can fill up the car and get them the hell out of here, somewhere where she might be able to sneak a kiss or two when she’s supposed to concentrating on the road. 

Sam shakes her head, holding up her hands. “Nope, it’s all yours. It was practically made for you…dear.” 

Deena puts the hat back on, mostly because it earns her another toothy grin from Sam, though she does her best to feign a pout. “There. Happy?” 

“Very.” Sam nods. And then her smile softens and she shrugs. “But I usually am.” 

And this…this is exactly why they’re driving across the country, throwing themselves into a life in a place they’ve never seen before, one they’ve only crafted out of conversations and wishful thinking. This is exactly why Deena suddenly has no complaints about getting back behind the wheel of the car and putting even more miles between them and Shadyside and getting them forever closer to what is waiting at the other end. 

“Yeah.” Deena nods, grinning as she looks down at her feet. “Yeah, me too.” 

[buck-yyyy]

hajsbskabx- i mean i’m from the midwest soooo

BUCKY HAVE YOU EVER SEEN A MOUNTAIN AND/OR THE OCEAN IRL???

yes i have!!! my state isn’t by either, but i’ve been to multiple mountains, in colorado utah and washington, and i’ve seen/been in the ocean four times, in florida massachusetts maine and i think one other time but idk the state :))

[noiizemaze]

SLEEP HEADCANONS.

NAME:  Tarantulas-- just Tarantulas, thank you.

RESIDENCE: Usually The Farmhouse, a big abandoned farm complex out in the middle of nowhere, Nebraska. Technically Tarantulas lives in the caverns underneath the house and barn, and Prowl has the house, but they come and go between each others' spaces as needed.

TYPE OF BED: A suspended hammock of webbing, the sort that she can put up and pulled down whenever. More realistically, sometimes the floor? A dark corner is good enough. She loves the humming of the machinery in the lab.

NUMBER OF BLANKETS: She doesn't tend to use blankets. Pulling her hammock around herself is usually enough; Tarantulas keeps her living space suited to her chimera alt. mode as long as it doesn't bother any experimentation or equipment, which is to say, warm and humid.

NUMBER OF PILLOWS:  Do Prowl's refineries count? No.

TYPE OF CLOTHING: She'll play dress up with her holoform, but she doesn't wear much herself and what little armor she still has is not removable.

DO THEY SLEEP WITH COMPANY?: Prowl, when Prowl's amenable. Otherwise, probably not.

DO THEY SLEEP BETTER WITH COMPANY?: ...Admittedly, no. She's hyper-attuned to vibration and movement, so Prowl's doorwings shifting can be enough to rouse her.

DOES IT MATTER WHERE THEY SLEEP?: Nope! Just pass the fuck out under a desk, whatever. The struggle is actually getting Tarantulas TO go to sleep. Always more work to be done...

WHAT DO THEY DO IF THEY CANNOT FALL ASLEEP?: Work. She's more likely to focus on whatever cases Prowl's involved her with rather than her own pursuits when she's tired, though. It's far easier to autopsy a corpse than to tinker with explosives when you're sleepy.

FREQUENT DREAMS,  NIGHTMARES: Since the Noisemaze, it has been nothing but nightmares, when Tarantulas has a recharge flux. She... would rather nightmares than dreams, though. She wants too many things.

DEEP SLUMBER OR NAPS:  Oh man. If Tara's genuinely exhausted, she might as well be unconscious. But she's a light sleeper otherwise, born from nights of checking up on Ostaros at any little noise or twitch.

WHEN DO THEY SLEEP: Pretty much whenever Prowl realizes, hey, when was the last time either of us slept? Or when she just flops over. In general, she's never exactly willing to rest.

WHAT COULD WAKE THEM UP: Almost anything, honestly, as long as she's not beyond the point of utter exhaustion. If you really need Tarantulas up and about? Food.

tagged by: @blackwldcw

tagging: I have no idea who hasn't done this yet!! Feel free!! also @best-head. suffer

[pentrologram]

15

little Loki drabble I wrote when I was still hyper fixated like, a year ago

883 words

pairing: Loki/gn!reader

pre-established relationship, no background characters, cute fluff and a little Princess Diaries insprired.

It was a fine summer afternoon in the middle of New York, and you and your fiancé, Loki, were out on a date in the middle of nowhere. 

Or, well, the middle of nowhere to anyone that wasn’t the both of you, anyone outside your private bubble. You had found this haven while walking home from work one day, completely on accident. You had been a little late to home that little and nearly drove Loki up a wall, but to make up for it you showed it to him soon after. It’s where you had your first kiss together, you recall as you set out the picnic blanket. 

The spot in question was a little piece of green land overlooking a beautiful, unpolluted stream- truly, a rarity this close to the city. Loki had even caught some fish in it during the spring and shown you how to gut and cook a fish properly. It was nicely shaded from the nearby forest, and it was a welcome change from the summer heat.

As you finished setting up the picnic underneath the biggest tree you could find, Loki began unpacking the food he’d made the night before. You sat down and watched the stream, watching the way the water flowed, almost hypnotised by the way that each droplet of water knew just where to go….

“My love?”

Loki tapped your shoulder gently and you very nearly jumped out of your skin, taken out of your peaceful trance.

“I’ve finished setting up, if you’re still awake,” he said with that casual teasing of his while walking away, hips strutting. You scoffed and contemplated tackling him to the ground- his stomach would hit the grass and he’d shriek about grass stains for an hour or two and then force you to hand wash his 100% cotton, 100% vegan shirt from a farmer’s market from the Amish in Asswhere, Nebraska- before deciding to follow closely behind, your hand brushing lightly over Loki’s. 

You sat down opposite each other, with the food in between the two of your. Loki had set out platters of fruit, sandwiches, cookies and all sorts of tea cakes, and a set of freshly baked muffins- the smells combined made your mouth water. Loki had a warm smile on his face as he looked at you, seeming very happy and content with the look of amazement on his partner’s face.

“You.. made all of this? By yourself? In just one night?” You asked in disbelief and awe.

Loki laughed at how surprised you seemed. Maybe if your expression had been a little less innocent-seeming, he’d pout and whine loudly about how you doubted him. No, he decided to be the adult here.

“Yes, I did.”

“Are you sure? Like, *sure* sure? No magic or anything?” You ask, your eyes narrowing suspiciously. 

“No, I didn’t. Now, are you going to sit here and debate the legitimacy of the food or are you actually going to *eat*?”

“Of course I’m going to eat! All of this looks so good… I don’t think I’d really mind if it was all magic.”

Loki chuckled and shook his head, amused. With all the fuss you made, one would imagine you’d resist more to eating probably magicked-up food. He watched you as you took the first bite of one of the tiny tea cakes, anxious for your feedback. He’d spent all of last night when you fell asleep baking and frosting teeny little cakes and cookies. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief when he saw your face melt almost immediately.

“I know it’s rude to speak with your mouth full- but- this is *so good*….” Your voice was muffled from the food but there was sentiment and genuine reverence in your voice, he thought joyously, and he watched as you proceeded to devour the rest of your tea cake. Loki smiled to himself before joining you and eating with you.

Half an hour later, you had both finished off the entirety of the picnic. It was sunset now, and you were packing up to go a little deeper into the stream before going back home. You talked quietly about nothing as you got everything ready to go, leaving Loki with the picnic basket as you walked down to the stream. You simply stood there for a moment, admiring the way the lowering sun coloured the water, looking for tadpoles and minnows in the water. To no avail- but you did find a frog on a tree, and Henry the Soul Crusher seemed an appropriate name (Loki found it fairly amusing- how could such a small creature *crush souls*?).

He sat down underneath a shaded tree while you went into the stream and splashed around, and he warmed you up with their magic when you emerged and shivered from the cold water. The night ended with the both of them on the grass, underneath the picnic blanket, Loki curled protectively around you, the both of you passed out cold.

[matthewdante]

Check out this cover reveal!! Preorders available soon! You won’t want to miss!! • @writer_michael_z_mcandrew ✔️COVER REVEAL ✔️COMING MARCH 31st ✔️PREORDER AVAILABLE SOON RESCUE ME, DADDY TIM MILLER My life in Valentine, Nebraska, wasn’t easy. At just nineteen, I found myself homeless and jobless with no prospects on the horizon. A life of abuse crushed people, but I still had space in my heart for love. With the support and guidance of an elderly widower, my life finally began to turn around. Being young and gay in a small town brought challenges but I had goals for my life, one of which was to be loved. The arrival of a world famous author to our small community turned my world upside down. What did I have to offer a man like Davis? I have nothing but my heart. I hope it’s enough. DAVIS HILL After the end of my five-year relationship in Malibu, I was desperate for change. Even though my career was successful, I could still use an infusion of ideas for my next book. So I did the unthinkable and decided to randomly stick a pin in a map and relocate. My friends may have labeled me insane, but I couldn’t resist the temptation. A fresh start in a new town offered the chance to distract myself while I heal from the pain of a failed relationship. Coming to the rescue of Tim on the very first day we met, was the beginning of one story I hadn’t expected. I had relocated to find a great story, but hadn’t expected to discover my own love story. Could a small town in the middle of nowhere offer a new beginning for both my heart and my career? Little did I know that small towns could have dark secrets that could threaten to shatter my heart. #mmagegaplovestory #mmagegap #mmagegaplove #mmagegapbook #mmagegapromance #mmdaddy #mmdaddyromance #daddyboy #daddyboycouple #mmromance #mmromancebooks #mmlove #mmlovestory #mmsmalltown #mmsmalltownromance #mmsteamy #mmsteamyromance #lgbtq #mmsteamyasfuck #mmcoverreveal #mmnewrelease #mmnewarrivals #mmnewrelease2023 https://www.instagram.com/p/CpnkpHUAsTG/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=