#otp: every minute of every day

[lover-of-mine]

Buddie Countdown to Season 7:

82 days.

[azaracyy]

haikaveh week 2024 day 1: student days

[honeyedlashton]

??????!!????!!!!?

[butrememberthesong]

actually on a similar note

[theemporium]

33 with remus in the otp dialogue prompt pleaaaaaaaase ><

33. “I don’t want them. I want you.”

.

Remus Lupin was usually quite a dignified drunk. 

It was rare for him to get to a state where he embarrassed himself, even when he pushed his limits to blackout conditions. He, by some grace that James and Sirius envies, always managed to keep himself together quite well. 

Until tonight, it seemed.

“Let’s go.”

“Darling, we can’t go.” 

“They won’t notice.”

“Remus, it’s our wedding. I think they will notice.”

The day had been perfect down to every single small detail and you were blessed enough to share it with your closest friends and family. It was a small event, nothing glamorous or grand because that didn’t match either of your styles. It was a simple ceremony with a reception just for you to let loose and enjoy the love you shared with the people you cared about most. 

It had hit just past eleven when Remus had stumbled over to you, yelling ‘my wife’ comically loud before attaching himself to you and he had yet to let go. 

He had wrapped his arms around you, his sleeves rolled to his elbows and his blazer lost after his third drink. His head was nuzzled into the crook of your neck, sloppy kisses placed against your skin and drunken serenades made as he sang along with whatever music that was playing through the speakers. The summer night air was thick and sweet and made your cheeks glow, and fuck, Remus had never been more in love. 

“You look so pretty, m’love,” he grumbled against your skin, his fingers fiddling with the small details of your dress. It was simple and white and it was truly nothing special, but you looked like a goddess in it to him.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Mr Lupin,” you teased lightly, your hand coming up to tangle themselves in his messy, sandy-brown hair. Whatever product Sirius had put in it at the start of the day was long gone and completely helpless now. 

“Good because I plan on fucking you, Mrs Lupin,” Remus retorted bluntly.

You snorted. “Is that so?”

“Don’t laugh, I am being deadly serious,” he whined softly and his hands squeezed your waist a little tighter. “I wanna fuck my wife.”

“We have guests to entertain, love,” you said to him, though you were unable to bite back the smile on your face every time he used the word wife. “They need us down here.”

“I don’t care what they need,” he muttered.

You tried to hold back your giggles as his nose brushed against a slightly sensitive spot. “Don’t you wanna dance and celebrate with your friends?”

“I don’t want them. I want you,” Remus said to you before he lifted his head, twirling you around so you could take in his flushed cheeks and hooded eyes. “I wanna fuck you in this dress.”

You couldn’t help but smirk. “Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” he nodded his head, his hands bunching the material of your dress in tight fists. “Been thinking about it since I saw you walk down the aisle in it.”

“That’s a long time,” you teased.

“Then you know how desperate I am,” Remus countered.

“Half an hour more then we’ll sneak off, okay?” you compromised, holding out your pinky to him. 

Remus pouted but relented as he linked his pinky with yours. “Thirty minutes and not a second more.”

“Always a man of virtue, Mr Lupin.”

“Virtue is the last thing on my mind when it comes to you, Mrs Lupin.”

.

[fure-dcmk]

FINALLY WATCHED THE MOVIE first impression rambling >>>

[MILLION DOLLAR PENTAGRAM SPOILER WARNING]

HEIJI WAS SOOOOO COOL. HANDSOME. TERRIFIC. the first 20 minute is just me losing my mind from all the heiji details

>> heiji and kid bantering about fairy lips in the intro. kid going your fault for not noticing hmmp! <- huh? are you a tsundere heroine

>> HEIJI ORIGINAL DUFFLE BAG!!! CAMEO-ING IN 2024!!!

>> 4 new outfit from heiji that fits him so well... handsome guy

>> a fairy lip redraw. i died

how the hell did heiji brought his bike with him all the way in HOKKAIDO. you can almost way osaka to tokyo is only half of the travel to hokkaido how many day trip would it take to reach that far. also a jp tweet i read once brought to question how a high schooler was able to use the high way. did he brought kazuha with her in this extreme trip? with the excuse that he's going for a kendo tournament... when his bigger agenda is to confess. everything about the bike being there doesn't make sense but i give it a pass for being cool 😁👍

and the heikazu scene.,.. i came there fully expecting to not care at all but they actually made me invested. ran was SOOOO CUTE her excitement directly influenced me to also want to see heiji succeed. heiji asking if the legendary 100 million night view is better than big ben and ran agreeing just to placate him for the sake of her otp 😭

THE STUN GRENADE! the fact that kazuha immediate reaction is to protect heiji ears.... her self sacrificial nature a call back to mermaid island in the most subtle way 🥹🥹🥹 heiji shocked eyes was so cute. and heiji confession speech isnt cringe and is actually cute! shocker! (sorry trauma from heart anniversary lines its so awful im dnfuebdjfjf) devastated such an ideal confession scene was wasted. but its from kazuha trying to save heiji SO FORGIVEN

need to make sure ppl know im a momiji enjoyer. all her faults are forgiven purely cuz she is funny. let a rich girl be delulu !

also loove how they keep cannonizing her keen hearing from m21 THIS IS THE APPEAL OF KAZUHA THEY GET IT

touichi gifting a lost national treasure to his little brother yuusaku for winning the macademy award, as well as keeping in touch with him and gifting various trinkets.... meanwhile keeping his own son completely in the dark that he's alive this entire time...

conclusion 1: worst parent award goes to kuroba touichi 🥳🥳🥳

conclusion 2: ah he's definitely a brocon huh

kills me that everyone is dejected that the katana with the star shaped guard is a lost treasure. meanwhile its quitely sitting in kudo yuusaku's store room cuz his big brother gifted it to him LIKE SDJDJFF!? turning your justice leaning lil bro into an accomplices. the gag potential here is so made for me

shoutout to sonoko who took up haibara's usual information provider role. every scene with her was animated so cutely IM SHOCKED m27 doing excellent job at showing off her cuteness. there is a fun parallel to think about, sonoko was the first person heiji went to to get information on kudo's whereabout, and now heiji is also going to her for information ♥️ heiji-sonoko friendship crumb thank you for the food

this movie really play a lot with the crumbs from kendo school tournament arc. heiji-ran friendship makes me want to cry, ran efficiently karate chopping hijiri to make sure theres no distractions for heikazu 🥺😭 ive been convinced on okita's cuteness the past 3 month cuz if the okita fanart boom in my corner of jp twitter but watching it for myself... he really have it bad for heiji LMAO wdym "it's boring if hattori ain't here~" how much did you say this for kaitou kid to catch that its a good trait for an okita disguise. im glad this movie give a good balance of real okita and fake okita, m10 still makes me so sad for having ZERO real hakuba 🥲 kid's dosu e~ is so moeblob

ah i still got so many word vomit on this movie it seems to be never ending 😭😭

my final review of the movie is this is my no 1 fav conan movie of all time, 2nd place is bride of halloween. i still havent rank anything below that properly. im truly entertained by this movie it got so many characters i care about with a lot of bombastic scenes. as much as i want to say my ultimate fav is m7 and m21, both of them are kinda... slow with all the deduction talk. im here for eye candy after all 😔 mixing kid's energy is doing wonders for the tone of a heiji movie. heiji's presence is also doing wonders for KID as well cuz gosh!!! KID has never emit this much childlike moe blob energy. heiji and conan being the straight man to kid's prank is the dynamic really help to emphasize his whimsical energy

and the final theme i caught; parallelism where hijiri is willing to do anything to protect his father's legacy only for us to find that its all for naught.... now why does this sound familiar 🤔🤔🤔

rewatching the movie tomorrow so ill probably do another ramble on it

[aragaki]

Darlin/Pack Members

Because my self-control is zero and I just think Darlin' is the most interesting listener character who also deserves the entire world and William Solaire's wallet.

Milo

Already wrote some about them here but they're my non-canon otp so ofc I wanna talk about them more

The pack's most photogenic couple. Milo puts in the effort to look good and dress well but Darlin' is just the most effortlessly good-looking. They can roll out of bed in yesterday's clothes and unbrushed hair and any candid shot looks like it belongs on an influencer's curated social media. It drives poor Milo crazy.

Before they moved in together, Milo would send messages to Darlin' throughout the day to let them know what he was up to and where he was going. They never asked but he knows it makes them more comfortable and he's always happy to do it.

Christian can't make his jokes about Milo's wolf size for nearly as long when he's mates with Darlin'. Darlin' isn't a brute, they're a protector, so of course they notice the way Milo's smile tightens when Christian piggybacks onto Ash's jokes. They give him three chances to knock it off and after he doesn't listen to them on strike three, they start swinging. Darlin' doesn't ask Milo to talk to David about how he's feeling but he has to anyway when David interrogates him about what caused Darlin' to break Christian's nose.

Darlin' has always been Marie's favorite and she has no problem saying as much. She's wanted them as her kid for as long as she's known them, little spitfire that they are, and is beyond happy when Milo finally makes it official.

This also means that Marie is Darlin's primary healer and gives them twice the ration of shit that she gives anyone else - including Milo! She loves them so much but will not hesitate to kick their ass for being reckless.

Milo is without a doubt Darlin's lifeline during pack meetings. It's a lot, being home and surrounded by people you thought would be fine without you - who are upset with you for thinking so - and Milo knows all the best places to escape with them. They never admit to needing a breather but he always knows.

Milo and Darlin train together!! They absolutely do!! Darlin' knows they can rock Milo's shit and he does too, and he loves it. When they spar or box together it's always going to end in a makeout session. He can't help it, they look so damn fine all fired up and sweaty. They've absolutely gotten caught but no amount of teasing will get them to stop.

Darlin' doesn't mind dressing up for Milo. It's not their thing usually, simple and maneuverable works best for them but every now and again they can be persuaded with plenty of kisses. Fancy restaurants make them feel out of place but Milo always seems so happy to see them under the light of glittery chandeliers and that makes them happy too.

One time he did manage to piss off Darlin' during a fancy dinner so they pretended to propose to him in front of the entire restaurant and it nearly gave him a heart attack. The cake and champagne they were given more than made up for it though.

When Darlin' sits down, Milo has the habit of coming up behind them and massaging their shoulders and neck. He has a hard time keeping his hands off of them at the best of times but he wants to help get rid of some of their stress so small random massages are his way of helping with that.

Darlin' likes things that are simple and physical, they're a tactile person so they've absolutely got a photo album of them and Milo. Marie even gave them some old pictures of them together from their teens for it. Milo finds it one day by accident and if it had him crying on their bedroom floor for 15 minutes that's between him and Aggro.

Speaking of Aggro, he has a love-hate relationship with Darlin'. They're convinced the cat hates them, the way he swats at them and hisses. They say Milo is Aggro's person and he's jealous that Darlin' takes up so much of his attention. But every night, he tries to climb up and sleep on Darlin's chest, head resting under their chin. And if Milo tries to move him to cuddle with Darlin' he gets a full-force bapping to the face until he gives up and lets Aggro do what he wants.

Darlin' has absolutely shifted and laid down so Aggro could climb up onto their back and nap there. They'll never tell a soul.

I talked about it in my other Milo post but Milo kissing Darlin's scars!! They've been through so much and it's affected their self-image so much. Milo can't stand that. So he kisses each and every one, even the ones that make Darlin' lip curl in disgust at themselves, and say something about them that he loves. Physical, emotional, about their personality. Anything. This praise king could go on forever. And he means it and that's what makes Darlin's heart ache the most.

And when they start to believe it, Milo couldn't be more proud. The crease between their brows when they see themselves smoothes out. They don't sneer at the bite marks that are dotted around their skin nearly as much. They get confidence in how they look, and in how desirable Milo finds them. He can't wait until it turns into true self-love.

Milo has no problem being the in-between for Darlin' and David. Both have strong personalities. Both can word things that, while meant to be loving, can be harsh and wound the one who hears them. Milo doesn't have a lot of patience, but he is fluent in Grumpy Wolf at this point. His interventions have honestly brought the unintentional hostility between them down and made it easier for them to talk about their thoughts, feelings, and opinions on their own.

When they're shifted, they're almost always stuck together. Doesn't matter if it's a hunt, a run during the Solstice, anything. They will not be separated. They're both ready to throw themselves headfirst into whatever danger might happen to protect the other, much to the exhaustion of the rest of the pack who really wish they would just stop throwing themselves into danger.

Asher

"Well mark me down as scared AND horny!" Has been Ash's response to basically everything Darlin' has done since they were teens.

Seriously, there would be no denying that Darlin' intimidated Asher when they joined the pack. A new wolf from outside of Dahlia joins the pack with a chip on their shoulder a mile wide and so fearless they'll jump in first into any problem??? They're intimidating but also!! They aren't mean to him!!

He was without a doubt one of the members of the pack who tried to help Darlin' integrate the most. He'd include them in anything he could, even if it made his other friends side-eye him. He was shameless about it too!! If they wouldn't spend time with him, he'd be following them around like a lost puppy. It was like they had a second shadow.

Some members of the pack scoff and roll their eyes at Asher but not Darlin'. Even if they don't seem interested in his rambling they're always paying attention. They've always listened. And he didn't realize how important that was to him until it was gone.

Becoming pack beta and David's second in command was a huge shift and he's well aware that plenty of people don't think he's up for it. But Darlin' was never one of them. They had their own quiet belief in Ash and what he could do, never questioned his fit for the role. Even as they withdrew from the pack they knew that David could handle it if he had Asher's support.

After Darlin' fell into the wrong crowd, Ash was the most vocal about getting them back and bringing them home. No argument mattered to him, Darlin' was a member of the pack and they needed to be there. He wasn't above saying it was just because he missed them. That didn't change when they stopped being teenagers. He still feels like a dumb kid with a huge crush who missed his chance.

Then, all at once, it all falls apart. Darlin's unempowered friend is almost killed, by Darln's own mate, and the Shaw pack is rallying behind them to try and push the department to act. Then it goes quiet. They leave, saying they're heading up to be with their family and Ash feels like someone hollowed out his chest. It's how he imagined it feels like when someone's mate dies - a constant ache in his chest. Which he knows he shouldn't feel because regardless of his feelings Darlin' isn't his mate. Hell, they just had to leave theirs because he was a shitty person!!

He's confused and it only gets worse when he finds out Darlin' had been lying to them. That Quinn was still at large, that they put the pack at risk, that they were putting themselves at risk trying to handle it alone. They didn't rely on the pack. On their friends. On him. And his impostor syndrome kicks him off on a spiral. But it doesn't take much to pull him out of it, not when Darlin' is finally back in his life.

As mates, Ash is the Will Smith red carpet meme. He wants everyone to look at his mate, to know that he's their mate and they're soooo in love!! It drives poor Darlin' insane.

And he can get away with it!! And damn near anything because Darlin' is so weak to Ash's puppy dog eyes. They have been since they were teens. If Asher wants a grilled cheese at 3 AM all he has to do is flash those eyes and Darlin' is hauling themselves out of bed, but grumbling about it the entire way.

Asher and Darlin' spend a lot of downtime gaming together. They trade recommendations back and forth, play each other's favorites, and terrorize everyone else who ends up in their lobbies. Darlin' can get a little heated and toxic during PVP but it's always defused by Asher doing an uwu voice and making Darlin' choke on their laughter.

David and Milo are happier than Asher when they finally get together, they've been listening to his lovesick pining for years and they're TIRED.

David

aka the character that got me into shipping Darlin' with their pack members

David and Darlin have such an interesting dynamic!! The devoted pack alpha and the wayward lone wolf. They both have strong personalities and we've seen them come into conflict with each other

But there's love there. There always has been.

I fully believe that in a David/Darlin' relationship, it'd be a case of he fell first and fell harder. It wasn't love at first sight, David's a bit too cynical for that even before his dad died. But there was a pull to the newcomer that drew him in and helping them settle in wasn't just because of his role as beta.

They were always there, in the background of David, Milo, and Asher's teenage years but never front and center. Always on the fringes, like they never found their footing. Something he wouldn't notice until it was too late.

Then Gabriel dies and Darlin' got together with Quinn. Instead of being distant, they're absent entirely. David knows that Quinn is their mate but something about that burns at his core, makes him feel queasy and unsettled. Like it's wrong. But htere's nothing he can do, he has a pack to run and protect.

The anger and hurt he feels when he finds out that they've been lying to him for so long. That they're trying to hunt down Quinn on their own, so stubborn and self-destructive. The fact that they consider themselves expendable and would risk breaking themselves to avenge their friend and protect the pack. He wants to shake them by the shoulders and tell them they're loved but he knows it'll be better to show them instead.

The pack meeting goes better than he hoped, with members both scolding and reassuring Darlin' of their place and their value. He watches them the whole time out of the corner of his eye and he says it's because he wants to make sure they don't bolt but he knows deep down he's just happy to see them back where they belong

The road to becoming mates is even more bumpy with Darlin' than it would be with Angel. He has to balance being their alpha and their partner and he already feels like he's failed them as a leader, they couldn't even trust him about Quinn.

The shift to being mates came with no small amount of arguing. Darlin' likes to fight with David on just about everything and it drives him crazy. It doesn't matter what it is, big or small it's always some kind of fight or contest and it makes his blood boil but at the same time he loves that little sparkle they get in their eye whenever they challenge him.

When there's a pack run and they're all shifted there's a 100% chance that Darlin' is gonna slam into David's flank and snap at him. Doesn't matter how many times he tells them to stop over the link, they're always going to start shit in a way even Asher wouldn't try.

Honestly, it's like David has two betas the way Darlin' and Asher flank him. And Darlin' isn't above mean-mugging clients if they think they aren't being taken seriously. (again, David tells them to stop. They don't.)

Scary movie nights are even more fun when David and Darlin' are sat next to each other, the contrast makes Darlin's abject terror even more hilarious.

[elis-blawg222]

November 8 - Friday

Whew! Caught up at last!! (took me long enough)

Today was actually pretty good. I called Angel before school which made me really happy!! (I love him sm ill sob rn actually). My class wasn't toooo bad. The teacher talked sooo much ugh, but I drew the whole time so it was fine. I made my oc thinnn n pretty, love him. Also we had to go around the room and talk to people for like 30 minutes. 30. (did yk you have 30 minutes??)

It was so nerve wracking, especially because I was unprepared lol. I bet I looked like such a total weirdo with the lack of eye contact I was making, but at the time I was just trying not to break a nervous sweat LMAO.

Then, after my class I went to the library (on call w/Ange) and did an assignment. I went home afterwards because my phone was gonna die, and I needed my charger.

After a bit at home, I went to my next class, and I had a test in this one. It went good I think! We studied beforehand which I'm really grateful for.

We had a break in this class, so I went to walk around for a minute, and during this my mom texted me with:

"Eli

What did u eat today"

...

nothing. So, I said "I had some chicken nuggetss after my class hehe"

to which she responded "No fries no pop. How many nuggets"

GURL. So i was like "I did get some fries lol? and i got 10 why?"

and she just CONVENIENTLY NEVER RESPONDED. UGH.

(but wait theres more.)

After my class ended I went home and got ready for work. I was otp w/Angel (because seriously when am I not?) and he was playing minecraft. It was so peaceful and entertaining to watch and listen to him play- I loved every bit of it. Then, we talked about how we should play together (I ltrly will do anything to idc).

Work was actually ehh, not toooo bad. My dad and friend and her mom stopped by which was nice, and also my hairdresser LOL. They both tipped really well (obviously my dad did but yk).

I went home after what felt like one billion years, I was so so so happy. When I got home I just said a few things about my day like I usually do, and made sure to slip in the fact that I got a free meal at work. Which isn't wrong, I did, but I didn't get anything. I actually am just gonna let my friend get something tomorrow. but they don't have to know all that shhhhhhhh.

Then my mom stopped in front of me and was like what did you eat? and so i repeated myself bc no one listens to me <3

(I told her fried chicken tenders, fries, mac and cheese for context, a very 'me' meal tbh or at least it was)

Then, she was like "how many chicken tenders?" "no drink?" "did you finish it? all of it?" "so then you ate 2 full meals today?"

oh. my god. like. genuinely.

why. is. she. interrogating. me. pls. fucking. leave. me. alone. IM GENUINELY MORTIFIED AND HONESTLY IM SO AGGRIVATED. LET ME STARVE IN PEACE HOLY FUCK.

I tried to act like a normal person and be like ??? why are you interrogating me? BC WHY ARE YOU (as if I'm not literally starving myself)

She was just like "because I need to make sure you're getting nutrients." ok girl.

Then, I went to my room and she went to bed. I cleaned my room a bit and did a homework assignment, so I'm pretty proud of myself.

Also if you couldn't tell by now I fasted today. I was gonna either 48 hr fast or do 2 24 hr fasts back to back, but I think I'm just gonna do around 36 hrs. I wanna eat in front of my mom tomorrow so maybe she'll start leaving me alone (I seriously doubt it).

It just gets really frustrating when every meal I have she thinks isn't enough, even when I'm genuinely full. I can't eat like I used to like I physically cannot, she has to get that.

Anywho, I was thinking of making some cucumber boats tomorrow, I think it'll be fun.

Total Steps: 6.7k

Look at me meeting my step goal for once. I'm gonna start really making an effort at meeting it!

'Til tomorrow :)

(P.S. actually getting activity on these makes me so nervous but haiii)

[unboundprompts]

hi, I love your work!!!

I was wondering if you could do some prompts for two people who don't realize they're in love until they have to be separated? and then they reunite years later and that's when they finally become a couple?

thanks so much!!!

OTP Prompts for A Pair that Didn't Realize They're in Love until Separation

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

She didn't realize how much she missed him until he wasn't there.

He felt like he had a hole in his heart. A perfectly [Name]-sized cavity in the center of his chest that ached every minute they were apart.

The worst part was the unknown. They had no idea if they would ever see him again. Was this permanent? Were they just expected to go on with their life as if he were never a part of it?

She wished she had said something while they were here. If only she had spoken up about the way she feels about them.

If he had told her how he felt, maybe-- somehow-- she would still be here.

Three hundred forty-eight hours and sixteen minutes until they would see her again. But who was keeping track? Certainly not them.

Now that he was standing in front of her, all of the things he wanted to say vanished from his mind. He stood speechless, his throat dry and voice unable to find the words. "I... I missed you," she said.

Today was the day. They were going to tell him.

He couldn't wait any longer. He was going to lose his mind if another second passed. He had to call them.

She couldn't believe it. She was in love with him of all people. And after days and months and years of them being together, she never said a damn word. How could she have only just realized?

They replayed every moment they spent with her, analyzing every little detail. All of the back and forth flirting that never really meant anything, the knowing looks, their hands brushing together when they walked, was it always just careless fun? Or maybe, just maybe, she liked them too?

[datura-tea]

holy shit this year marks 10 years of this blog and moz!! i can't remember the exact date i started posting here - my archive says i have one post from november 2013 but let's disregard that - but i do remember it was around late 2014/early 2015 :)

^ one of the very first moz art pieces i ever drew, for fallout week 2015!!

memories and art through the years under a read more bc it got long

2014 → baby's first rpg!! i started playing fnv on my cousin's jailbroken xbox late 2013 and finished mid 2014 and i loved every minute of it. i remember waking up at 8am and playing almost nonstop until 2am the next day haha!

i didn't play moz on my first playthrough - but i did start creating a character that would eventually become her: a shorthaired ex-boxer who punched her way through obstacles when diplomacy failed. i remember she spent a lot of time with boone. i liked him then, because he saved my ass more times than i can count. but i digress. this is draft 1 moz essentially

2015 → this is the year that i was doing my thesis so i could graduate but i was so depressed and stressed about it that i distracted myself by replaying fnv on pc, where i played through the dlcs for the first time. i fell in love with the dlcs' oversarching story; particularly ulysses, who i became obssessed with, especially since i couldn't find any content of him at the time. in the game, i played as moz; i had most of her personality and choices down, but her backstory was still up in the air.

fun fact: this was an existing sideblog that i remade to be a fallout blog so i could look for ulysses content, and when i couldn't find any, i made some myself, featuring moz as my main courier six. originally, i didn't ship them, but eventually i ended the year as a courier/ulysses otp shipper.

this was the year i started drawing digitally - my uncle let me borrow a drawing tablet and i used an old copy of photoshop i pirated hehe

2016 → i graduated this year!! and promptly fell deeper into my depression. this was the year that it got so bad that i had to be medicated. through it all, this blog and moz and ulysses and my fandom friends were with me. and for that i am truly grateful :) this was the year i figured out how to lock transparent pixels so that i could color my lineart lol

2017 → i started hammering out moz's backstory this year i think. there's a lot of sketches of her and her family in my files. i experimented with shading and backgrounds here but that experimentation was pretty short-lived

2018 → i started using references seriously!!!! i did a lot of oc on oc kissing this year, featuring mostly moz and many friend ocs haha

2019 → didn't draw much this year. actually this year was a blur and i can't remember much from it except from it being the year of my terrible no good bad copywriting jobs... anyway i did manage to continue my courier/ulysses brainrot and make this piece, which i'm still proud of

2020 → pandemic time. i spent a lot of time asleep at home and i think this was also the year i started doing commissions?? shoutout to anyone who has ever commissioned me - thank you so much, i truly appreciate it!!

2021 → i switched from my old-ass pirated photoshop to clip studio paint and never looked back. also i did a bunch of commissions for my grandmother's surgery, which failed, and i distracted myself from the sadness by drawing my ocs over and over and playing disco elysium

2022 → by this year, i've got moz down pat and have started vaguely developing other ocs instead. but she's still always at the back of my mind

2023 → i bought new brushes from true grit texture supply and immediately found new favorites that i started using for everything. i tentatively started incorporating background elements in some pieces!

2024 → while it's still too early to say where this year will lead me art-wise, i will say that i started experimenting in realistic paint studio (which i bought in 2021, the same time as clip studio paint) a few days ago and i'm liking the results so far. we'll see!

all in all, these last 10 years have been quite a ride, but i'm glad i stuck around and i'm glad you guys stuck around too!! much much love 💖💖💖

[wexhappyxfew]

Also! 29 on OTP dialogue for Annie and Brady?

HI JAMIEEEE!!! thank you so much for this other prompt as well!!! sorry it took a bit to get to! :) i must say, this idea swirled in my head for a bit and then, when i felt things in writing were finally going the way i wanted them to, i felt ready to post this!! thank you again!!!! :D

a little while longer

(a/n): for the annie x brady girlies, with a mix of angst and fluff all at once!!! to say the least, these two have my whole heart and just !!!!!! there was an anon awhile back talking about brady freaking out if he ever saw annie injured or wounded in the slightest way - and well....here ya go! prompt: don't lie to me. i was there.

The soup was probably the best thing she could've had in that moment - despite what little warmth this place provided, the soup was sure to give her enough strength to keep her going. She'd been up most of the night with a nasty, wheezing cough, her nose running and her throat sore as all get-out. Now, with her stomach feeling sour, nose run red from the amount of times she'd wiped it, she felt like she'd been drug behind a truck and tried standing again. But, for now, this little bowl of soup was making her incredibly happy.

Annie looked up and towards where Brady was, sat taking up spoonful after spoonful of soup himself, getting every last bit her possibly could. She had to admit, she was worried about him more often than not - because he spent the majority of his time worrying about her, especially in the past few days. So seeing him eat his fill and focus on himself, settled her for the time being.

"Guys. Guys!" yelling started down the hallway, along with a banging all along the wooden walls of this sad excuse for barracks. Annie met Buck's eyes from beside her at the table and watched as everyone in the tiny bunk room looked towards the doorway to find Benny DeMarco racing in, eyes wide and bloodshot as he made an attempt to catch his breath.

"What is it, Benny?" Bucky said, pushing up from where he leaned against a bunk, forgetting about his soup and focused on the rather frantic nature of Benny there in front of them. Benny took a minute to catch his breath and then pointed outside.

"They got a new group comin' in. Margie may be in that group. We gotta go look." he said quickly, before disappearing again out the door. Annie watched that now-empty doorway and slowly turned to meet Kennedy and Bessie's eyes - there was something unspoken between the three of them that the boys hadn't entirely clued into or focused on. But coming in as a woman was one thing; having survived that level of interrogation was another.

Margie had to.

She had to be in that group.

She was more hopeful than half of them combined.

"Let's go." Annie said, moving to her feet, buttoning her coat and wrapped that scarf around her neck, "C'mon." She was the first out the door, hurrying down the hall, a few echoing footsteps behind her as she pushed outside and attempted to seek out Benny in the crowd. She caught sight of his beanie, and began, rather slowly, moving through the open area towards the gates.

As she got closer, she watched, as if in shaky, frantic real-time capture, as Benny moved along the fence, yelling out, over and over again, before tearing around the edge of the wiring and disappearing into the crowd.

Annie felt her face grow cold and stoic, her shoulders pressed high, her chin pointed up. Her heart pounded as she turned around the edge of the gate and found Benny there on the ground, pulling a rather fragile looking, collapsed, corpse of Margie Harlowe on the ground, her face bloodied, her clothing practically hanging off of her form, and her one shoulder looking twisted in all the wrong places. Then, standing over them, was whom she could only assume as one of the German soldiers who had been begrudgingly dragging Margie along.

This was one of her girls, her flight engineer; bright, sunny Margie, with that beautiful blonde hair that was now all haphazard angles around her shoulders, bright blue eyes that were red and filled with tears and beautiful rosy cheeks that were scarred and bloodied.

Annie slowly looked up at the German who stood silent and still, overtop where Margie was half alive in Benny's arms, her cries weak and pained, Benny's comfort only doing so much to erase the pain of reality.

Annie couldn't take it anymore.

She took three, wide steps forward right into the German's face, without much thought for her own self and stared up at him, her body rigid, her eyes narrowed.

"She's already half-dead," Annie practically spat out, "did you really have to drag her in the dirt like a dying dog!" Any sort of celebration and welcoming immediately went quiet as people turned to look at the female lieutenant who was currently losing it on one of the Germans. Annie's throat tightened.

"How can you just stand there!" Annie managed out again, but she knew she had messed up long before she even had opened her mouth. She should've stayed with her soup, let Benny handle all this. But she couldn't. This was one of her girls, this was Margie Harlowe.

Without warning, the German had grabbed her by the shoulders and swung her around him right into the dirt, her body hitting the ground with a rough whimper, her eyes closing at the pain shooting through her body.

"Annie, don't," came Margie's quiet cry.

"Don't touch her." Benny said, his voice drowned out by the sudden kick of the German's booted foot into Annie's side. She curled into a ball with a strangled cry, tears squeaking out of her eyes, her body begging for some sort of reprieve that wasn't this.

When the German had stepped away, angrily spitting down on her, she heard yelling and a commotion somewhere behind her, which was enough to make her sit up, weakly at that, looking past Benny and Margie in his arms and a few stragglers hanging about.

There, just past them, was Brady, screaming and yelling, being held back by Bucky and Murphy as best as they could hold him, Brady's eyes dead set on the German officer who walked away casually and calmly. Annie turned her quivering eyes to Brady again and watched as he broke free of the bodies holding him back and stomped across the open bit of land, taking his hands on the front of the Germans uniform and slamming him against the rusty wiring, yelling, over and over.

"Don't you dare fucking touch her again!" Brady yelled, his voice sounding like a wild animal's, guttural and raw, as the German yelled back, "Don't lie to me. I was there! I saw you hit her! Don't touch her again!" It didn't take long for the German officer to yell something in German, before swinging at Brady, sending him to the ground.

The brawl turned into a power struggle, the German kicking and punching Brady there on the ground, Brady all but weakened and defenseless. Finally, the two were separated and bodies were left behind and the few groupings that had been out were left behind by the Germans, only watched by guards in the towers. Annie watched as Bucky helped Brady to his feet, Brady struggling to find his footing, before ignoring any possible help, as he ambled over to Annie.

"Annie." he managed out, his voice sounding weak as he collapsed on the ground beside her, his hands reaching forward - he was always reaching for her, they always were with one another - and placing themselves against her cheeks, his thumbs rubbing in circles, "He should've never have hit you. I swear to fucking-"

"John." Annie whispered, slowly bringing her hands to his own cheeks, "You've gotta calm down."

"Not when they hit you, Annie. He did it because he-"

"John." she managed out again, "I'm okay. It's…..Margie." Brady watched her and some sort of realization seemed to hit him. He knew how important the women of Silver Bullets were to her, beyond anything, beyond even herself.

Slowly, the two looked over to Margie there, wrapped in Benny's arms, those tears running down her bloodied cheeks, grasping onto Benny like it was her lifeline. Annie managed to pull herself to her feet, Brady beside her, their hands linking to one another for some sort of support, before she fell to the ground in front of Benny and Margie, her hands shaking as she reached forward. Margie flinched at Annie's touch, her eyes immediately welling with tears - what could they have done to you?

"Hey, Margie, it's me." Annie whispered, reaching her hand forward and softly cupping the girl's cheek, brushing her thumb over her pink, wounded skin, "You're okay." Margie looked up at her with those water-filled blue eyes and let out a croaky cry, reaching up a free hand to lay gently against Annie's hand and nodded.

"I can't believe….I found…you all." Margie managed out, "Benny saw me first……I didn't want anyone to get hurt." Benny let out a quiet, wet laugh, as if holding in any tears he was trying not to shed. Annie looked to Brady, whose face had grown soft and gentle. Brady watched Annie, his face full of love and adoration, that same look she'd gotten the privilege of seeing anytime he watched her.

"You didn't have to go beat up any Germans, Brady." Margie managed out, her hand still grasping Annie's tightly, "You're too kind." The three of them laughed again at Margie's words, before Annie's eyes filled with tears and Margie seemed to notice.

"Don't cry, Bradshaw, I'm still here." Margie said softly, "Look at me."

"I thought you were dead," Annie managed out, her throat filled with emotion, "I should've looked for you….tried to get you to safety-"

"Don't go saying that, Bradshaw," Margie managed out, before letting out a wet, rattling cough, "I got to see Brady beat up a German for a bit. It was worth it."

"I promise it felt just as good as it looked." Brady said quietly.

"Don't give yourself that much credit." Benny offered and the group fell into small bits of laughter again.

By the time they'd gotten Margie up and in the comforting arms of Benny and Bucky who had come racing over like a bat out of hell, Annie had turned to Brady, looking at him bathed in cold sunshine, his face more stressed and sunken in these days, but still the Brady from that first day on base. They watched one another and she smiled slightly, reaching up to run a finger beside the cut near his eyebrow.

"Let me help you dress that," she whispered quietly, her hand cradling his cheek, as he watched her, "thank you for doing that." Brady clenched his jaw.

"He shouldn't have even touched you."

"I shouldn't have gotten in his face. I shouldn't have said a word-"

"You did the right thing, Annie, I know that. They gotta have a little humanity in this place."

"There's barely an ounce of that here." she whispered, voice sorrowful and sad. Brady watched her, before bringing up a hand to clasp around her one against his cheek. For a second, it looked like Brady was going to say something else, but he bit his tongue and continued to watch her instead.

"Does your chest hurt?" he whispered to her, "I'll help you wrap it. I'll scrounge some bandage."

"Only a little," she whispered back, "I'm more worried about your chest. He hit you pretty hard." Brady smiled softly at her and stepped forward, cradling her face in his hands, his beautiful eyes on her own.

"Let me take care of you." he whispered to her, "Let me hold you, just a little while longer." Annie stared up at him and flitted her eyes across his face and lips, before settling on that scar again.

"Only if you let me wrap up your chest." she whispered back to him.

"Only if I can wrap yours." he said back. She stared at him and then smiled softly, nodding, "Is it tender?"

"I'll be okay." she whispered, "You know that."

"I know." Brady whispered, "Sometimes I just….." Annie watched him, her big eyes holding him in her gaze, watching as he watched her back, their emotions hitting a head.

"What?" Annie asked quietly, her voice hidden it felt by the sweeping winds this place had. Brady couldn't get his eyes off her it felt, and like it were the most delicate thing in the world, he pulled her into his arms, probably the warmest hug she'd had since arriving here, and stayed like that. Her heart raced in his embrace and as he pulled back, she looked up into his face right in front of her and licked her lips. The corner of his mouth lifted upwards and she felt her body shiver. Something pulled her closer, she wanted to be closer than they already had been.

"Hey!" Brady and Annie seemed to bounce apart, and they turned to find Bucky walking closer, all smug, hands in his pockets, "We're gonna get Margie comfortable."

"Right." Annie said, stepping back and smoothing out her normally, crumpled clothes, catching Brady's eyes for a second and then pushing her hair behind her ears, "Let's go." She hurried away, towards where Benny was still walking with Margie, as Bucky came to Brady's side. Brady stared at Bucky, who smirked and clapped his shoulder.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing," Bucky said, "quite the dragon slayer though, huh."

"Shut up."

"You tell her yet?"

"Shut up, Bucky."

[karahalloway]

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 19 - Field Day

Fandom: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series Summary: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale’s problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: It's off to the bridal boutique, but Harper and Olivia have a secondary agenda...

Word Count: 6,200

Rating/Warnings: M (royal bitchiness, possible emotional abuse, kidnapping, threats of murder)

Chapter theme song:

A/N: So, I have tried to keep everything as realistic and accurate as possible in terms of the locations that are touched on in this chapter. The only thing that is made up is the antique store. As usual, translations for the French and Italian are at the end.

Chapter 19 - Field Day

The five-minute drive to the bridal boutique is every bit as excruciatingly awkward as can be expected.

"What part of we are already running late is so difficult to comprehend?" derides Madeleine before the limo door even shuts. "When I tell you to hurry, I expect you to do exactly that!"

"I'm sorry, Lady Madeleine," stammers Penelope tearfully. "The heel of my shoe became caught on—"

"Save it!" the Countess of Fydelia snaps. "If you cannot do something as simple as totter down a corridor without breaking your neck, then frankly, I do not see how you are supposed to be of use to me."

Penelope's face turns whiter than a sheet. "I—"

"As lest you forget, I took you on as a lady-in-waiting as a favour to your family, given the historically close personal relationship between our fathers," Madeleine reminds her with a steely edge to her voice. "But that does��not mean that I cannot send you packing just as easily. And if you do not get your act together, then that is exactly what will happen. Am I clear!"

"Yes," Penelope whimpers, lowering her gaze.

"What was that?" demands Madeleine imperiously.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"And the same goes for the rest of you," adds Madeleine, casting the haughty gleam of her gaze over the limo. "One misstep — proverbial or otherwise — and you are gone. Not just from my employ, but from court as well."

Shifting my gaze over to Hana, I see that she is just as perturbed as I am about this borderline psychotic power-trip.

Talk about being a queen bitch...

Olivia scoffs from her seat in the corner. "How about you try making a threat you can actually carry out..."

Madeleine bristles. "As Queen I will have the authority to—"

"Do exactly what Christian permits you to do," Olivia interjects flatly, examining her nails. "As lest you forget, you will only ever be a queen consort — not queen regnant."

The Countess of Fydelia's eyes narrow. "That is but a technicality."

"I still wouldn't overplay my hand," Olivia cautions with a smile. "Wouldn't want to get caught out on a technicality now, would you?"

Madeleine glares down the length of the limo like a viscous viper.

"Didn't think so," smirks the Duchess of Lythikos as the driver pulls the vehicle to a stop...

...and the paps immediately descend on us like a swarm of black flies.

"What the—?" I blurt, catching the flash of the cameras through the blacked-out windows. "When did they get here?"

"Five minutes ago," replies Madeleine tartly, slotting a pair of shades on.

My jaw drops. "You... told them where we were going?"

"Of course," she affirms as the Royal Guard who had been riding shotgun manages to squeeze his way through the human press to open the door. "Royal patronage elevates the esteem and profile of any institution. It is only right that the press should be invited to cover the visit."

"Like that's the only reason..." I mutter as Madeleine steps out of the limo and the roar of the crowd becomes deafening.

"Contessa!" several people shout. "Contessa Maddalena! Quaggiù, per favore!"

"It's horse shite, by the way," Olivia advises as she slides past me. "The only thing she is looking to promote is herself."

"Well, she definitely seems to be succeeding..." I admit, watching the Guards struggle to hold the photographers back as Madeleine sashays her way towards the doors of the boutique.

Olivia scoffs. "It's an act of desperation. Nothing more. She knows she is on thin footing with Christian... and the public."

"Great..." I groan, pulling Drake's blue aviators from my clutch as I, too, exit the limo.

Rather than being an unfortunate one-off, it seems like yesterday's altercation at the Apple Harvest Festival was actually the opening salvo in a concerted campaign of media brinksmanship that Madeleine is determined to win.... at my expense.

Yet, I'm just not sure I have it in me to play her contrived publicity game. The paps have already up-ended my life more completely than I would've ever thought possible, so the last thing I want to do is pander to their voracious appetite for scandal.

"Duchessa Harper! Duchessa Harper!" the photographers shout as I step out onto the sidewalk. "You made it to Italy! What do you think of the city so far?"

"You did not travel with the King and future Queen! Were you forced to make alternative arrangements because of your argument?"

"Will you attend the opera tonight?"

"When was the last time you spoke to your family? Is it true you cut all ties with them?"

Gritting my teeth, I force myself to keep my head down and my feet moving forward as the invasive questions zing over my head like bullets. Camera bulbs flash in my face as the photographers press in, trying to get that front page close-up...

...and that's when I spot him.

My heart skips an uncomfortable beat as recognition hits me like a punch in the chest.

Oh, my God, the photographer from Applewood!

He's standing in the second row, regarding me almost casually, like a tourist at a zoo, faded red baseball cap slung backwards over his head, just as in the picture Ana de Luca had saved on the flash drive.

Our eyes meet and I stumble to a stop, unable to tear my gaze away, my morbid curiosity overpowering my senses even as the paps close in around me...

...but then I feel the warmth of a hand on my back and the sound of a familiar voice brings me back to earth.

"Nous vous tienons, Demoiselle," Allard assures me, appearing at my side to shield me from the press invasion.

Glancing up, I see that Schweitzer has taken up position in front of me, using his body like a blocker to force a path through the crush.

Curling into the safety offered by my Guard's no-nonsense attitude, I let them whisk me into the boutique.

"Thank you..." I say sincerely as we pass through the doorway into the foyer.

Allard relinquishes his hold on me with a nod. "Certainement. Vous allez bien?"

"Yeah..." I reply, heart pounding as I try to recollect my bearings. "I just—"

"Oh, my gosh!" gasps Hana, stumbling into the boutique behind us. "That was horrible!"

"C'est le bordel!" agrees Kiara as she and Penelope manage to squeeze themselves through the press before the Guards shut the door. "Qu'est-ce qu'elle croyait?"

"She wasn't," Olivia replies flatly, shooting an accusatory glance over her shoulder at Madeleine, who is already being given a queen's welcome by the boutique's owner.

A tense silence descends as we all process this assessment.

"I... I suppose we should go through," Hana suggests eventually.

"Oui," Kiara affirms with a huff, smoothing the front of her dress. "Sa Majesté expects our assistance."

Penelope glances uncertainly towards the fuss being made over Madeleine. "I don't think she's expecting mine..."

"Don't be silly!" Kiara admonishes, looping her arm through her friend's to tug her forward. "She just had a petite éclat. Every bride gets nervous and she is under a lot of pressure to maintain constant perfection. But that is why we need to help her, non?"

Penelope looks like she's about to disagree, before finally acquiescing with a sigh. "I just miss Merlin and Morgana..."

"J'sais..." consoles Kiara, patting her reassuringly on the back of the hand. "Hopefully once the tour is finished, Madeleine will allow you to send for them."

"I doubt it..." Penelope mutters meekly as they join Madeleine in the store proper. "She said she hates yappy little dogs. You don't suppose they have anything here with poodles on them, do you?"

"I don't think this boutique specialises in that type of lingerie..."

"Oh..."

"I'm sure they have some pretty floral designs, though!" Hana offers encouragingly. "Italian lace is known around the world for its intricate rebrodè detailing."

"Yes, because that's what men care about on the wedding night..." Olivia mutters dryly, turning towards me. "You coming, or what?"

"Huh?" I ask, snapping my head up. "Umm... Yeah. Sorry."

"You better be," she snips disdainfully as she starts down the foyer as well. "I refuse to be the only sane participant in this clown show..."

I glance warily back towards the front of the boutique, where the paps were still battling each other, trying to snap a shot of us through the tastefully curated window displays.

"What?" Olivia objects after a beat. "No snide comment? No wry clap-back? You're not conveniently coming down with a sudden fever, are you?"

"I... I saw him," I admit, tearing my gaze away from the feeding frenzy outside.

Olivia grabs my wrist to yank me to a stop. "Saw who?"

"The photographer," I say tightly, pulling my arms around myself in a bid to stop myself from shivering, despite the record-breaking temperatures outside. "From Applewood."

"Dion Guillard..." clarifies Olivia, staring at me intently. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," I nod.

Olivia purses her lips. "He could be here on his own volition, or because someone invited him. Either way, we should make use of this opportunity."

"How?"

"By making him an offer he can't refuse," she replies slyly, pulling her phone out.

My eyes widen. "You mean right now? But Madeleine—"

"Has enough sycophants coddling her already," she counters flippantly as she quickly types up a text. "We only have one chance to do this. Do you want the truth, or not?"

I swallow down the lump in my throat. "I do."

"Good," she nods, slotting her phone away again. "You don't mind if I borrow your hunks, do you?"

"Umm..."

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," she responds, clicking her fingers authoritatively at Allard and Schweitzer. "Meet me in the back in fifteen minutes."

Before I have a chance to respond, Olivia has already spun on her heel and is striding towards the rear of the store, my two Guards in tow.

"'Kay..." I mutter under my breath.

I have no idea what Olivia's plan is... much less how she thinks to arrange a clandestine meeting with the photographer under Madeleine's nose while there's an entire army of paps parked outside watching our every move.

But I've learned during the course of the social season that the Scarlet Duchess is as enterprising as she is resourceful, having pulled a number of successful ploys in a bid to advance herself in the competition. And Drake seems to trust her implicitly, otherwise, he wouldn't have asked her to keep an eye on me while he's off in Dubai.

So, it looks like I'm just going to have to trust her, too.

Taking a deep breath, I move towards the other end of the shop floor, pretending to peruse the various items on offer while I wait for the allotted time to tick down.

Luckily, Madeleine is busy loudly shooting down each and every lingerie option that is presented to her by both the boutique staff and her increasingly frazzled ladies-in-waiting, so nobody really notices when I announce a pretend visit to the restroom.

Slipping back out into the foyer, I move as casually as possible towards the back of the store, knowing that the paps are still watching me like hawks through the windows.

Rounding the corner, I allow myself to speed up a bit, casting my gaze left and right, looking for Olivia...

...when I'm suddenly yanked into a dimly-lit storeroom stacked with cardboard boxes and plastic-wrapped veils and dresses.

"Hey! What the—?" I protest as the door is shut promptly behind me.

"You're late," Olivia informs me dryly, clicking the lone light bulb on above us.

"Sorry, I had t—"

I reel back in horror as my eyes land on the bound and gagged form of Dion Guillard perched on top of a box of lingerie.

"Oh, my God!" I gasp. "When the heck did this turn into a kidnapping?"

"Ten minutes ago," she replies breezily.

I drop my head in my hands. "I am going to jail... I am literally going to jail..."

"Oh, ye of little faith..." Olivia admonishes, stepping over to the photographer.

He shrinks instantly back from her.

My brows shoot skywards. "Jesus Christ... What did you do to him?"

"Nothing," she shrugs. "Yet..."

A chill runs down my spine. Apparently, Olivia's reputation is more than well deserved...

"I presume you know who we are?" she asks Dion levelly, coming to a stop in front of him.

The man nods tightly, brows bunched together beneath the line of his baseball cap.

"And your current circumstances leave you under no illusions as to the lengths we're willing to go to obtain — by force, or otherwise — the clear and unvarnished truth?"

His gaze slips to meet mine for a second before sliding back to Olivia's to give her the barest of nods.

"Good," she smiles, reaching towards him. "Then this will go that much faster."

In one quick motion, she yanks the scrunched-up handkerchief from the photographer's mouth, making him wheeze.

"Sa mère la pute de—"

"Who are you working for?" Olivia demands, folding her arms.

Dion spits on the floor next to her feet. "I'm a freelancer. I work for—"

"We know who you are," Olivia interjects with a wave of her hand. "You're a lowlife slug who's willing to do anything to make a name for himself. You demonstrated as much when you sold compromising photos of my friend here to the press. The question is, who hired you?"

Dion scoffs. "Nobody hired me. I work for myself! That is what I've been trying to—!"

"Liar," Olivia accuses. "We know you didn't just stumble upon this by yourself. Who's your client?"

"Nom de dieu..." he disparages under his breath. "I told you already, I—"

Olivia is suddenly up in his face, knife pressed to his throat. "And I didn't like your answer."

Dion jerks back instinctively. "Your petite friend is correct... You are going to jail..."

"They'll have to find your body first," she tells him silkily. "What little will be left of it, anyway... Because no one here is going to the police. And I'm sure that your so-called friends out the front will secretly be glad for your unexplained loss. The freelance photography business is oh-so cutthroat, after all..."

"Tu es une salle grace..." he snarls through clenched teeth.

Olivia presses the knife tighter. "Then you should know that it's not in your interest to test what's left of my patience..."

Dion laughs bitterly. "À quoi ça rime? You say already that you will just—"

"What if we paid you?" I interject, stepping forward.

Olivia's head snaps angrily around. "Harper, stay out of—!"

"Paid me?" the photographer cuts in, eyes swirling to meet mine with interest.

"To give us the information we're after... voluntarily," I clarify, in a bid to avoid the impending bloodshed. "And to sell us the photos from Applewood."

Dion frowns. "I already sold the pictures to the papers..."

"Not all of them," I correct, hoping against hope that my gut instinct is correct and I haven't just torpedoed Olivia's interrogation for nothing. "You only sold the ones you were told to sell — the ones that fit your client's narrative."

Dion seems to assess me in a new light. "You come prepared... Fine. I'll do as you ask... for five million."

"Ducats?" asks Olivia.

"Euros."

I very narrowly catch my jaw from falling to the floor at the sound of the obscene price tag.

"You've been paid once already," counters Olivia. "The highest we can go is one million."

"Four," insists Dion, somehow managing to find the balls to negotiate even with a knife pressed to his throat. "There are a lot of pictures."

"Which no one else is willing to buy, so two is our best and final offer."

"Three," declares Dion. "And I'll forget this conversation ever happened."

Olivia purses her lips for a moment, before whipping the knife away with a flourish. "Fine. Start talking."

Dion lets out a low exhale. "I received a call some days before the Jamboree. The person had a tip on one of the Prince's suitors, and said it would make big news if it got out. Naturally, I was interested."

"Who was this person?" I ask.

"I don't have a name," he replies. "The tip was anonymous, and the call came from a hidden number."

"Was it a man or a woman?" Olivia queries.

"A man."

Olivia and I exchange a glance. Tariq or Godfrey.

"How did you get into Applewood?" I ask, turning back to Dion.

"A security pass was delivered to my apartment. No return address," he adds before either of us can ask.

"And that didn't seem suspicious?" I press.

"Demoiselle," he scoffs. "I am a paparazzo. I am not going to... How you Américans say? Count the teeth of a dog?"

"Look a gift horse in the mouth..." I correct dryly.

"Once on the estate, I took some pictures of the Jamboree — in the event, you know... nothing came of the tip — but then I received a message on my phone that the suitor in question was on her way back to her room with her paramour, andI should make myself ready."

"How did you know which room to go to?" I cut in.

"There was a blueprint of the manor included in the same envelope that provided me my security pass," Dion explains. "It was your room that was marked."

His words hit me like a kick to the guts.

It's been clear for a while that my run-in with Tariq has been anything but chance. But to learn the malicious extent of the planning that had gone into setting it up makes me want to actually puke.

Who was sick enough to even think up something so twisted?

"What then?" asks Olivia, diverting Dion's attention from my momentary muteness.

He shrugs. "I took the photos, and left."

"How?" I croak in disbelief. "How could you just stand there while—?"

"I am a journalist," he shrugs apathetically. "My business is to be impartial..."

"You watched me get assaulted," I hiss through trembling lips. "There is nothing impartial about that!"

He shrugs again. "Affairs are messy. Maybe you should choose your lovers more carefully."

I feel my fists clench at my sides as I take a step forward. "He is not—"

Olivia's hand pulls me back. "How did you deliver the photos?"

"There was no delivery," Dion counters with the same level of nonchalance that he's exhibited since he started talking. "I selected the best pictures and put them out to offer to the newspapers. The Sun offered the most for them, so I sold to them the exclusive rights to publish."

"That's it?" queries Olivia. "No one else was given copies?"

Dion scoffs. "Absolutement pas! Selling copies to anyone else would violate the license agreement with the most influential tabloid newspaper in the country! Why would I put myself out of business? I am not an idiot..."

"You didn't send any samples to the person who tipped you off?" I press, having finally managed to regain my composure somewhat.

"Non," he insists. "I said before — he was not a client. I have no obligation for him. And even if I did, I have no way to contact him because—"

"—the conversations were anonymous," I finish wearily.

Apart from lending credence to our suspicions that Godfrey may have had a hand in the set-up, this conversation has confirmed literally nothing.

The people involved in the plot have been too careful in covering up their tracks.

Which means that all our hopes now rest with Tariq... and Drake's ability to find him.

Dion nods. "C'est correct. And I told you everything you asked. We still have a deal, yes?"

"On the condition that you hand over all the remaining photographs — including any digital and backup copies — and disappear off to a godforsaken island somewhere," Olivia clarifies.

Dion nods eagerly. "Naturellement. I always desired early retirement."

"Good," she approves, cutting the bonds from his wrists with a cold smile. "Otherwise I will personally ensure that you don't live to spend a single Euro of your newly acquired millions."

The flash of the wicked-looking blade so close to his groin causes the photographer to blanch involuntarily. "Je le jure."

Olivia flashes him a cold smile. "We'll be in touch..."

"You're just letting him go?" I hiss into Olivia's ear as Dion pushes himself up.

"Unless you would prefer to dump him in the Tiber?"

I reel back. "What! No! I just—"

"Your instinct was right," she advises softly, as Dion gathers his bag and Allard escorts him back out. "He is an opportunistic shark. He just had to be made to believe that he was fleecing us."

My eyes widen. "So, you played bad cop deliberately."

"As you said, this is my area of expertise," she smirks. "And I knew you would not be able to keep your sentimentality at the door."

"Umm, thanks... I think..." I mutter. "But where are we supposed to get three million Euros from? We may both be aristos, but neither of us is Jeff Bezos..."

"The Palace has a designated slush fund set aside for these sorts of expenditures," Olivia assures me breezily, slotting her knife away. "Since you are now a member of the royal family, we'll just send the bill to Jonathan."

I slant her a wry look. "I'm pretty sure that's not what either he or Christian had in mind when they decided to clean up my image..."

"Oh, please!" she admonishes, stepping back out into the corridor as well. "As recently as last year, Constantine was authorising expenditures of five to ten million Euros to stop pictures of Leo shagging B-list actresses on top of various vehicles making it onto the front pages. Three million Euros is trump change for the Rys."

"If you say so," I concede, my mind still reeling from astronomical sums of money that had been so casually bandied about. "Let's just hope Dion doesn't screw us over..."

"He won't," she assures me. "Nobody is stupid enough to cross a Nevrakis."

"The people who blackmailed you did..." I remind her cautiously.

Olivia's mouth tightens as we reach the end of the corridor. "Which was their first mistake. And one that they will pay for dearly."

"You never actually told me what they threatened you with on the night of the Coronation Ball..."

Olivia glances at me sharply. "The less you know the better."

"But—"

"It is for your own protection," she insists. "You haven't played this game long enough to know how to handle something so... explosive."

My eyes widen. "What? More explosive than—?"

Olivia clamps her hand over my mouth. "What did I tell you on the plane?"

"Sorry..." I mumble through her fingers.

She withdraws her hand. "If — on the very slim chance — I require assistance, I'll ask for it. In the meantime, you should rejoin the bridal parade."

"Why? Where are you going?" I ask as Olivia moves towards the back loading doors.

"None of your business," she ripostes, disappearing outside.

"Bye to you, too..." I snip as the door slams closed in her wake.

Olivia may now be on my side, but she is still as caustic as ever.

Turning back towards the main part of the boutique. I barely make it four steps before Madeleine's shrieks of outrage — and the sound of breaking glass — echo down the hallway.

"How many times do I have to tell you, no thongs! They are ribald and tasteless!"

"Yeah, no..." I mutter under my breath as I promptly spin on my heel to head back towards the rear of the store.

I don't care what Kiara may have said earlier; I have no interest in spending the rest of the morning being trapped in a bridal boutique, being screamed at by Madeleine. I have much better things to do with my time... and sanity, especially given that I'm still trying to mentally and emotionally process what the photographer had said. And after everything else that's happened in the past twenty-four hours, a small break would definitely go a long way in diffusing my pent-up stress.

Admittedly, a part of me feels bad for leaving Hana behind to suffer the full brunt of Madeleine's tirade, but trying to pull her away as well would only jeopardise my chances of making a successful getaway. I'll just have to think of some other way to make it up to her.

Not wanting her to get into any unwarranted trouble on my account, I decide to pull out my phone to send her a quick text letting her know that I'm not feeling well, and that I'll hopefully see her at the opera in the evening.

Slotting my phone back into my clutch, I push the back doors of the boutique open with a decisive shove, and step out into the sunshine.

Letting my eyes adjust to the brightness outside, I find myself in a small courtyard. On a whim, I turn back towards my Guards.

"Which way to the Trevi Fountain?" I ask, pulling my sunglasses back down over my face.

Allard and Schweitzer trade glances, clearly uneasy with this request.

"Demoiselle, that is not a prudent—"

"—way to get lost in the crowd?" I counter. "I can't think of a better one. If I don't advertise myself, no one will know I'm even there. Especially while the paps are tied up on the other side of the building."

My Guards don't seem convinced. "Commandant Walker left specific instructions to—"

"I'm not planning on disappearing on you," I assure them. "I just want to make a quick detour to grab some pastries, and check out the fountain. So, which way is it?"

Perhaps seeing that I'm not going to be swayed by any cautionary counter-argument, Schweitzer gives Allard a one-shouldered shrug of acquiescence.

Allard pulls a face before finally resigning himself as well. "Par ici," he says, indicating the far side of the courtyard.

"Thanks," I chirp with a smile, setting out across the cobblestones...

...and promptly get the heel of my stiletto pumps stuck in a crack between the stones.

"Eugh," I grumble, as I manage to wrench myself free after a brief battle. "I really didn't think this through..."

"Would Demoiselle require a taxi?" asks Schweitzer as he helps steady me from behind.

"I was hoping to walk..." I admit sheepishly.

"Via Borgognona is nearby," Allard suggests. "It is a well-known shopping street, though quieter than the more famous Via Condotti. Demoiselle might find more... comfortable footwear there."

"Not to mention some more appropriate clothes in general," I gripe, already feeling the tight fabric of my pencil dress start to stick to me. "How far away is it?"

"Just around the corner."

I flash him a bright smile. "Perfect!"

With Allard leading the way, and Schweitzer holding my hand, we manage to cross the courtyard without further incident, and sneak past the paps still thronging the front of the bridal boutique without getting spotted.

Crossing the pedestrianised thoroughfare, my Guards usher me down a narrower street that is lined on either side by cream-coloured buildings casting some welcome shade in the midday heat.

We pass a smattering of tourists and locals, but luckily everyone seems to be too absorbed in their phones or personal conversations to pay any specific attention to me.

And — more importantly — as Allard promised, the street is composed entirely of fashionable-looking independent boutiques.

"Let's try this one," I suggest, indicating the arched entryway of a store with an Italian name that I do not recognise, but which nevertheless seems to have several options for sandals on offer. And — given the scalding nature of the weather — an open-toe option is definitely appealing right now!

Stepping into the air-conditioned entranceway, I am immediately greeted by an immaculately made up woman with a severe ponytail, who starts questioning me in rapid-fire Italian.

"Umm..."

Luckily, I am saved from the embarrassment of trying to cobble together some kind of inappropriate response with the very limited — and wholly unhelpful — Italian that Bertrand had managed to teach me on the plane by Allard, who steps deftly up to my side.

"Lei è alla ricerca di alcune nuove scarpe."

"Che tipo de scarpe?"

"Sandals," I say, having understood the gist of the question. "No heel."

"Prego," the assistant says, flicking her hand towards some minimalist shelving.

"Gracia," I acknowledge with a smile.

Moving over to the indicated section, I quickly assess the options...

...and nearly die when I lay eyes on the price tags.

"Almost a thousand Euros...?" I gripe under my breath "For a few scraps of leather...?"

But then my eyes land on a pair bejewelled, gladiator-style sandals.

Given my limited window of opportunity to sneak in some sight-seeing before people start to question my absence, I don't have the luxury of being able to hunt for a bargain. And if I'm going to end up forking out this much money on a pair of shoes, I'm at least going to spend it on something that I like the look of.

And these sandals definitely fit the bill.

Decision made, I pull out my phone to quickly find out how my normal US shoe size converts to the vastly different European sizing, and turn back to the patiently waiting assistant.

"Size 36, please."

With a nod, she disappears 'round the back.

While she's gone, I take the opportunity to look up the location of the little pastry shop that the President had mentioned.

Since I'm heading towards the Trevi Fountain anyway, and Madeleine had pulled us out of this morning's meeting before the refreshments could be served, I had been serious when I told my Guards of my intent to tackle two birds with one stone. Especially since it's nearly lunchtime, and chances are I won't otherwise see food until the opera this evening.

The assistant reappears with my selection, and after a quick try-on, I give her a nod to ring up the extortionate purchase, being excessively grateful that I still have cash left in my US account, given that I don't actually have access to my new Cordonian accounts yet.

Stepping back out onto the street, I change out my shoes, slotting my pumps away into the high-end bag that I've been given, and dumping the shoebox in a nearby trash can.

My toes flex gratefully in their newfound freedom as I cross the street to the clothing boutique, wondering how much a top and pair of jean shorts is going to set me back...

In the end, however, I am pleasantly surprised to emerge back onto the street in a simple, white wrap-dress, a straw Panama hat, and a matching straw bucket bag in which I've stowed my old dress and shoes, all for under two hundred Euros, which means I was able to make recourse to the money Drake had given me, and still have plenty of cash left over for other potential emergencies.

"Thanks for the suggestion," I tell Allard sincerely. "It has definitely saved me from melting into the pavement!"

"De rien, Demoiselle," he acknowledges with a smile. "Are you ready to continue?"

"Lead the way, Monsieur!" I tell him with a grin.

Taking up poll position with a scoff — with Schweitzer bringing up the rear — Allard takes us left at the next intersection to zig-zag us down various side streets, presumably in a bid to avoid both the ferocity of the midday sun, and the chances of me being recognised on the busier avenues.

But, the back route pays off, and within ten minutes, I find myself standing on the edge of the crowded plaza that serves as the gateway to the romantic monument.

"Wow..." I breathe, taking it all in. "It sure is busy!"

Allard and Schweitzer exchange a tense look, no doubt worried about the prospect of being able to keep tabs on me in the press.

"I'll be fine," I assure them. "Just a quick peek and then we can get moving."

Neither of them look convinced, but they don't try to dissuade me as I plunge into the crowd.

Skirting around wedding parties, tour groups, and other miscellaneous sightseers, I manage to work my way to the front of the throng, and my mouth parts with a gasp at the sight spread out before me.

The four-storey monument rises up from the base of the fountain, framing the dynamically positioned statues from under whose feet the water gushes into the aquamarine pool.

It's like a Renaissance painting brought to life.

But, while I'm glad to have made the trip out here to see it in person, I can't help but feel my chest tighten morosely as I gaze up at the beauty of the world-famous landmark.

I didn't necessarily realise it at the time, but part of the reason why I enjoyed my outing in the Cordonian capital so much was because I had Drake to share the adventure with. And it was the same in Avignon — his wry quips and local knowledge had definitely brought the whole experience to life, making me see the city through different eyes than I probably would have had I been by myself... like I am now.

Eugh... I miss him...

Reaching for the ties of my bag on impulse, I pull the fastenings apart just enough to plunge my hand inside. Finding my purse, I snap it open and extract a Euro from the coin pouch.

Squeezing my fingers 'round the warmth of the metal, I clench my eyes shut with a heartfelt wish as I turn back towards the fountain...

...before sending the coin flipping through the air to land in the water before me with a soft plop.

Blinking my eyes open, I am somewhat disappointed to find myself still standing solo by the railing, and Drake has not magically appeared before me like the hot Italian guy did in The Lizzy McGuire Movie.

"Worth a shot..." I console myself somewhat dejectedly as I reach back into my bag to extract my phone so I could snap a couple of pictures to send to my mom.

Mission accomplished, I turn away from the fountain to make my way back to the edge of the square, Allard and Schweitzer falling into step behind me as I scan the various store-fronts clustered around the fountain, searching for the bakery with the pistachio croissants.

My eyes suddenly land on something in one of the window displays...

...and without really thinking about it, I let my feet carry me inside.

The little brass bell above the door jingles as I step into the cramped confines of what appears to be a shop selling a motley collection of antiques and touristy knick-knacks. A wizened old man sporting glasses and a thick head of white hair looks up at the sound of my arrival.

"Buon pomeriggio, signorina," he greets. "Posso aiutarla a cercare?"

"Umm... sì," I say hesitantly. "Hai avo... in the window?" I point at the item that had caught my eye with an embarrassed flush.

The man's face cracks into a grin. "Ah, certamente!"

Stepping out from behind the counter, he ambles his way over to the window display, to pull back the protective glass. Reaching in, he lifts up the silver chain and holds it out to me.

I run the tip of my finger across the edge of the pendant with a smile. "It's perfect."

"For you?" he asks, lifting the chain up to my neck indicatively.

"No," I laugh. "It's a present... Por mi amore?"

His eyes light up. "Ah, bellissimo! Lo avvolgerò in su per voi!"

"Gracia," I say as he scuttles excitedly back behind the counter in search of a box.

Pulling one out with a conspiratorial flourish, he sets about packaging up the piece as if he were swaddling a precious child for a hazardous journey, even managing to dig out a slightly dusty ribbon to tie on top.

"Cento euro," he declares, presenting the completed ensemble to me.

Pulling my wallet out, I extract my card. "Visa?"

"Sì! Ovviamente!" he proclaims, slapping a brand new Square card machine onto the counter, that was starkly at odds with the otherwise Ollivander-esque décor of the place.

Slotting my card into the reader, I complete the purchase, and am just about to reach for the box to stow it away in my bag when I feel a sudden presence behind me.

"This is becoming a bad habit with you..."

I freeze at the sound of the familiar voice.

No way...

The story continues in Chapter 20 - Steal Me Away

A/N: As per usual, translations below:

Nous vous tienons, Demoiselle - We got you, m'lady

At the bridal boutique:

Contessa! Contessa Maddalena! Quaggiù, per favore! - Countess! Countess! Over here, please!

Certainement. Vous allez bien? - Certainly. Are you alright?

C'est le bordel! Qu'est-ce qu'elle croyait?" - What mess! What was she thinking?

Sa mère la pute de— - Your mother is a whore of a—

Nom de dieu - Oh, my God!

Tu es une salle grace - You're a real bitch

Absolutement pas! - Absolutely not!

Je le jure - I swear

Lei è alla ricerca di alcune nuove scarpe - She is looking for some new shoes.

Out and About

Par ici - This way

Che tipo de scarpe? - What kind of shoes?

Prego - Please

Gracia - Thanks

De rien, Demoiselle - No problem, m'lady

Buon pomeriggio, signorina. Posso aiutarla a cercare? - Good afternoon, miss. Can I help you find anything?

Ah, bellissimo! Lo avvolgerò in su per voi! - Ah, lovely! I will wrap it up for you!

Por mi amore?* - For my love?

*This is a completely butchered attempt at Italian. The grammatically correct way to say it would be 'È per il mio amore'. However, Harper is improvising, so she's not going to get things completely correct 😇

Cento euro - One hundred Euros

Sì! Ovviamente! - Yes! Of course!

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(Less Than) Noble Intentions only (let me know if you want to be added!)

@thetruthisthatiloveyou @anakjaybon-blog

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Featuring: Stuck on Repeat

Summary: The jukebox will need to be replaced. It's cracked in three places and stuck on "What’s New Pussycat," a fact that took them about twenty minutes to realize before Thresh tried smacking the thing around to get it to shut up -- with no luck. He had to unplug it. The tinkling of broken glass being swept up provides a fitting accompaniment to the questioning as Darius flips open his tablet and levels Katniss with a serious look.

“Can you tell me how the fight started, Miss Everdeen?” She scowls at his use of a formal name for her, like he doesn’t spend every other Saturday in here, knocking back beers with his cop buddies, flirting shamelessly with her, and avoiding whatever fight he just had with Glimmer, his girlfriend.

Rating: E for explicit sexual content, explicit language, ptsd, bar fights, minor character death (after a long and fulfilling life tho and it happens off screen)

A/N: So I don't remember the exact sequence of events that led to this story. I do recall something about a post, maybe a prompt from a writing blog idk, but the gist of it was something about your otp meeting because they're both hiding behind the bar during a bar fight. I received an anonymous ask requesting I write it. I actually started writing on Election Day 2016 and the piece featured campaign worker!Peeta wearing a shirt supporting a woman candidate for president and Katniss out for drinks with a few friends when the fight breaks out, but well... as election night wore on, I lost all inspiration whatsoever. I've long since deleted that file because I just could not return to it.

The prompt sat unfulfilled in my inbox for almost a year while my personal life went through a boatload of change, to include a cross country move, a month living with my in-laws (ugh), speed moving into our first house before a tropical storm hit the area (also because we could not last one damn minute longer with Mr. kdnfb's parents). And then, after all the dust settled, I finally managed to produce the first part of what became Stuck on Repeat. It flowed pretty fast after that and became a fun little four part ficlet that's just over 21k words, with smut in every chapter and some shameless fluff. Also Peeta has a southern accent in this, for anyone who might like that sort of thing. And so, I present again bar fight!Everlark.

Stuck on Repeat on AO3

[topsyturvy-turtely]

turtely's otp challenge

now on ao3!

read day 22 here: (prompt: competing)

(this is a sequel to day 21! read it on tumblr or ao3!)

summary: After John finds out who his secret admirer is, him and Sherlock go to a fair and it's the perfect date.

Gen, 1,572 words, AU - High School. First Dates, Holding Hands, Fair, Roller Coasters, Cotton Candy Fluff, they are so in love it hurts, Flowers, First Kiss

here is a snippet:

At the fair, it was loud: people screaming on the rides, children laughing, and music from everywhere. Sherlock was unsure of where to go, but John already headed purposefully to the highest roller coaster.

“The highest right away, John?”

“Duh. I am not wasting my money on the small ones. This gives just the adrenaline kick you need for the start,” Once again – it was the third time (yes, Sherlock had counted) – John grabbed the taller boy’s hand. Sherlock was pretty sure he would follow John if he jumped off a plane, if he only held his hand. Oh, no. Sherlock realised his crush on John Watson was intensifying with every minute spent together.

“Come on! Look, look at it and tell me this doesn’t look fun!”

Sherlock glanced at the roller coaster, it even had a loop in it. Then his eyes landed back on John again and, yep Crush Intensified. John looked up in the sky, the sun making his eyes sparkle, a childlike look of excitement and fascination on his face.

Still staring at John, Sherlock said, “It looks breathtaking.”

John looked back at him, realised Sherlock was staring at him with an intense look in his eyes and blushed. Was he talking about him or…?

“Hey, you two!” A woman with short purple hair yelled at them. “Get on, love birdies, or you have to take the next ride!”

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[thlayli-ra]

Hey hey, le me again, I figured I’d do a fluff ficlet request as well since you said the more the merrier!

I really liked “Getting them something from the store when they only mentioned it in passing”, I adore cute little gestures like that and I think it would be really good with AJPunk, either way would work, I don’t have a preference for who’s going to the store, I know I’ll love it either way. I hope you’re not getting too swamped right now, this offer is just too good to pass up.

Are you kidding me???? First you give me Dick Rick/Mox whump and now MY OTP???? Three words... Hell Fucking YEAH!!!!!!!

Treat - 'Getting them something only mentioned in passing'

Characters - AJ Lee, CM Punk, Larry

Rating - Teen and up

Warnings - None apply

AJ knew that Punk's road to recovery would be tough but today was a particularly bad day. Not nearly as bad as his broken foot a couple years back, at least, that had been two and a half months of living hell! Probably because he had to remain in bed and couldn't do even the most basic of things like taking Larry out for a walk to get some fresh air. Punk was the same as AJ; a human hummingbird. He had to keep busy, keep moving or else he'd die.

'You mean sharks,' he'd said to her when she'd made the mistake of telling him the analogy once. 'Sharks have to keep moving or else they'll die.'

'Mmmm, nah, I think it's hummingbirds.'

'I'm telling you Ape, it's sharks. Hummingbirds perch all the damn time. Anyway,' he muttered under his breath, 'sharks are way cooler.'

She'd admitted defeat on that occasion, one of the incredibly rare times she did so. Mainly because she had an inkling she was wrong but that was beside the point. Punk was out injured, depressed and needed a win.

Today was another such day. She eyed his right arm strapped firmly in the hinged brace, almost identical to the one he'd worn on his other arm the year before. That injury had almost been something of a relief, a valid excuse to keep him away from a toxic environment that had been growing more poisonous by the week until Punk could no longer tell which of the greetings shot his way were friendly or chimpanzee smiles, hissing at him through clenched teeth. It had all blown up catastrophically and Punk was in no rush to return, nor did he have to thanks to his torn tricep.

(And the suspension too, of course.)

But now, with this injury, his third is almost as many years, it was a different story. He had just returned to WWE, the stars had finally aligned and the brightest among them that he had chased his entire career (re; his entire adult life) was finally within his grasp. He was going to headline Wrestlemania, finally take his place among the spotlight of the immortals.

However, the ground crumpled out from beneath him and instead of walking out of the Royal Rumble victorious, he hobbled out clutching his arm. An accident, more to do with the way he took the fall rather than the way Drew McIntyre executed the move, but Punk was still bitter about it. He had every right to be.

Particularly today, the day of Elimination Chamber. He was being uncharacteristically quiet and AJ found him on the couch flicking through all his colleagues posts on his phone. 'I should be there, Ape,' he sighed dejectedly. 'I was gonna win the thing and go on to challenge Seth for his title at Wrestlemania. Instead I'm sitting on my ass, squeezing a fucking foam ball every few minutes.'

'I know, baby,' AJ tried to offer what comfort she could, brushing his hair off his brow and planting a kiss on his temple. 'I'm sorry. Is there anything I can get you?'

'Nah, I'm good.'

'Not even a coffee.'

'No, thanks.'

Holy shit! Things were really bad if he was refusing a coffee. He was low, as low as she'd seen him in a long time and she needed to do something to help. Something big!

It was then that she remembered the moment shortly after he'd woken up from surgery a few weeks ago. She was there at his bedside, like she always was, when Punk, dozy from the anaesthetic, turned to her. 'Ape,' he'd said, his face as serious as the grave, half-lidded hazel eyes boring into her dark browns, 'I would destroy this entire building and everybody in it to get my hands on some Dr Crankenstein's Peanut-Butter Stuffed Goober-Heads right now!'

She'd blinked back at him for a moment. 'Ok, good to know,' she replied. 'I saw a vending machine outside, you want me to go buy you some-'

'AJ, AJ, AJ, Ape, Ape, Ape,' he whittled, wobbling his head from side-to-side. 'You sweet, beautiful creature, you' (Punk was extra affectionate when he was drugged up to his eyeballs, ironically) 'you can't just go buy them, they're not in season. They only bring 'em out for my birthday. And, you know, Halloween. Hence... hence' (she didn't know why he felt the need to say it twice), 'why I said I would destroy every brick in this fucking building and every man, woman and child in it to get my hands on them.'

'Oh...' Damn, he was lucky he was high as a kite right now or else she'd be a little concerned. 'Ok then, sweetie.'

'Except for you,' he added, clutching at his wife's hand. 'You're way too beautiful and amazing. I could never destroy you.'

'Ok. Good to know. Thanks.'

Inspiration struck! (She was a fucking genius!)

She would find those Gooby-watcha-thingies, even though it was only February, and she would present them to Punk to help him out of his depression. She imagined his face when she handed them over, how it would light up and his eyes fill with tears and his lips tremble as he uttered out 'how...' and she'd just shake back her hair and go 'because I am the best in the world'.'

No wait, that was his catchphrase. Damn... she'd think of line later.

Sneaking off to the back door, AJ pulled on her jacket and laced up her Chucks then popped Larry into his stroller.

'Larry,' she said, snapping on a pair of dark shades. 'Let's roll!'

The first place she tried was a short walk down the block. She found nothing in the candy aisle and tracked down a poor, unsuspecting employee to help her. 'Hey,' she said to the guy who looked to be in his early twenties and really didn't want to be here today, let alone serve some crazy lady pushing her tiny werewolf around like a baby. 'I was wondering if you happen to sell any Goober-Heads?'

'Any what?'

'Goober-Heads. You know, those things with peanut butter in them, made by uh, something-stein, um doctor or professor... Funkenstein or...'

'Dr Crankenstein?' The guy asked with a raised eyebrow.

'That's the guy!' AJ cheered. 'You got any of those?'

'Lady, this is February. They only come out in October around Halloween.'

'Yeah, I know that, but you might, I dunno, have one or two just lying around? Like in the back or something?'

'You think we have a secret stash of months-old candy in the back? In like, a super-secret closet? The same one we keep the Ark of the Covenant in?'

AJ knew she was being mocked. But also, kinda didn't care. She was on a mission from God. 'Do you?'

'No, lady!'

Hmm, worth a shot.

Being polite didn't work so in the next store she tried being flirty. 'Excuse me, kind sir?' she asked an older employee, pulling her shades down enough for her enormous chocolate eyes to look over them alluringly. 'Do you mind helping lil ol' me out?' Oh, so we're going for Southern Belle are we? Interesting...

'Of course, how can I help?' Oh dear, he sounded very professional and she suddenly spotted the word 'manager' on his name tag but she carried on in spite of the warning signs.

'You see, I'm having such a terrible time of it lately, you have no idea-'

'I'm sorry to hear that, m'am.'

'Oh, you're too kind. Why, firstly I was jilted by the man I loved with all my heart then I married another out of spite, a soldier who went off to fight then up and died from the measles-' And now, we're just reeling off the plot of Gone with the Wind. Great! '..and here I am, a widow in mourning with a child to raise by myself and all's I long for is my stolen youth.'

'I... see,' the manager said, sounding so very concerned and supremely confused. 'I am really, very sorry to-'

'But, you know what would make all this hurt and pain in my heart disappear?' AJ took a step in closer and whispered huskily 'every packet of Mister Crookenstein's Peanut-Butter Filled Cooker-Heads you have.'

The sudden change in tone broke every wire in the poor guy's brain. 'W-what?'

'If you'd be so kind?'

'Do you mean... Dr Crankenstein's Peanut-Butter Stuffed Goober-Heads?'

'Yes, those.'

'Um, M'am, I am terribly sorry for the loss of your husband and your, um... youth, but we don't currently have any Dr Crankenstein's Goober-Heads in stock. It's February.'

'Not even in the back? Like a secret stash in some kind of super-secret closet?'

The manager stared back at her blankly.

'I'll just show lil ol' me out, then.'

Next store, she channelled her inner Karen (she had to reach deep, deep down inside of her) 'You!' she screeched at the closest employee, her shrill voice making Larry jump inside his stroller. 'I want to speak to a manager!'

'That would be me, m'am,' a woman stepped out from behind the till, with a neatly pressed polo shirt and a 'don't-fuck-with-me' look on her face. AJ gulped and considered bolting for the door but then thought of her husband at home, scrolling mournfully through his phone and the vision was so tragic she kept her ground.

'Oh, good! I want every single one of your Dr Pepperstein's Peanut-Butter Crammed Goober-Heads this second cause I know you have some in the back and I won't be leaving without any.'

The manager took in a deep breath to keep herself good and calm. 'M'am, they only release Goober-Heads in October for-'

'I don't care. I am a paying customer and the customer is always right. Have one of your staff search the back and find me some Glooper-Heads-

'Goober-Heads!'

'Uh, yes, Goober-Heads or else!'

The manager drew in another breath, staring daggers at AJ while she plucked her radio off her belt. 'Mack? This is Samira. Can you please search the back for any Dr Crankenstein's Peanut-Butter Stuffed Goober-Heads.'

'Goober-Heads? But this is Feb-'

'Just do it, jackass.'

She flicked off her radio and the two women stared one another down for ten long, long minutes until the radio crackled and Mack informed them that he had hunted high and low but found nothing.

'See?'

'Yeah, but did he try the super-secret-'

'Get out of my store!'

'Fine.' Letting out a huff, AJ turned around. 'But you'll be getting a very firmly-worded e-mail from me about this!'

The following stores all followed the same pattern;

'Goober-Heads?'

'In February?'

'I'm sorry, m'am, they're not in season.'

'They only release them around Halloween.'

'No, miss, we don't have any "lying around" in the back.'

'What do you mean "secret stash"?'

'I've said it once and I'll say it again, there's no such thing as a super-secret closet.'

Until AJ had to admit defeat and began the long, slow march home. Larry must have sensed her melancholy as he gave her hand a comforting lick. 'Thank you,' she smiled sadly when all of a sudden the little dog made a strange noise and began to pad his feet impatiently. She followed his gaze as he gave out a yip and gasped.

There on the corner, was a store she'd never seen before. An odd, little shop that looked dark inside but the red fluorescent light said it was 'open' so she took the chance and steered the stroller towards it.

The interior smelled of incense and had way too many curtains but there was a cash register in one corner, a fridge stuffed full of bargain basement soda brands buzzing in the other and an ancient coffee machine looming ghoulishly over her, suggesting it was indeed a convenient store. She wouldn't have been surprised, however, to find this place sold mogwais.

AJ spotted an old-fashioned reception bell on the counter so she went over and dinged it and waited for a reply. A head suddenly popped up from behind one of the shelving units, greeting her with a 'yes, how can I help you?'

'AAAAGGGGHHHH!!!' Clutching at her heaving chest, AJ tried to compose herself. 'I... um, do you... do you have any...' Only now, after everything she'd done that day, did it finally hit her how dumb she sounded. She hung her head. 'You know what, forget it.'

Turning Larry around, she began to head for the door when the shop assistant stepped out from behind the unit and eyed her. 'You've been searching for something, haven't you?'

AJ blinked rapidly at him. 'How did you-?'

'You have the steely look of determination and the stench of fatigue that comes with a formidable quest.' AJ scrunched up her nose at that, feeling insulted and more than a little tempted to lift up her arm and check. 'Tell me, young lady, what do you seek?'

'Um... Dr Crankenstein's Peanut-Butter Stuffed Goober-Heads?'

'In February?'

Her heart sank. 'I know, I know. They're out of season.'

The shop assistant glanced around him, shuffling over to the blinds at the window and peered out. 'Can you be trusted?'

'Uh... yeah?'

'Do you swear to take this secret with you to the grave?'

A bit dramatic for a packet of candy but, yeah, sure, whatever. 'I swear.'

The strange man lingered at the window a moment more than made a dash for counter. 'Follow me.' He lifted up one of the many curtains for her and Larry to enter through and AJ found herself in the storage area at the back, piled high with boxes and crates. But the man carried on, walking over to a huge, ornate closet made of dark wood and carved with intricate markings. It was pad-locked. He used a key on a chain around his neck to unlock it.

'Now, remember,' he said to her as he grasped the burnished metal handles, 'never breath a word of what you have witnessed today.'

She gave a firm nod. The doors were flung open, and a great light blinded her for a moment. As she blinked back into reality, what she saw was... beautiful! 'The Super-Secret Closet...' she hushed out under her breath.

'Here,' the shop assistant said, pressing a plastic packet into her hand. Angels sang in her skull when she spied those infamous words printed in black, loopy letters. Dr Crankenstein's Peanut-Butter Stuffed Goober-Heads. 'That'll be twenty dollars.'

It was a fucking rip-off! They only cost like five bucks.

She bought ten.

Then dashed home, her glorious treasure carefully stashed in the basket under Larry's stroller, both members of the triumphant fellowship holding their heads up high. Her feet were light as a feather, walking on air as she skipped up her driveway, unlocked the door and booped it open with the side of her butt and-

'Hey, you're back!' She jumped a mile when Punk manifested in the doorway behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. 'I missed you both so much.' Placing his lips against her neck, he peppered her with kisses, making her eyelids flutter and she swooned back against his strong chest.

'You seem happier?' she noted, looking up at him. Soft, hazel eyes glistened back at her.

'I am. Now that you're here.'

'Me?'

The corner of his lips curled and she was putty, melting under the influence of a blowtorch. 'You always brighten my day, no matter how low I feel. You always make it right, just by being you. I love you, Ape.'

In that moment, her mission dulled in importance and she walked away, leaving her precious bounty behind. Right now, what her husband needed... was her. So she sat with him and watched tv, cuddled into his side while Larry sprawled over both of them and snoozed with his little pink tongue sticking out between his distinctive fangs. They ate junk food and ordered take-out and laughed and kissed and talked about anything other than the PLE unfolding in Australia.

Later on, when Punk went to take Larry out for his evening walk he felt something large in his jacket pocket. To his utter amazement, he pulled out an unopened packet of Dr Crankenstein's Peanut-Butter Stuffed Goober-Heads!

'What the fuck?!'

From the living area, AJ lifted her head up lazily from her book and glanced over. 'Everything ok, baby?'

'Did you get these?' He waved the bag at her.

She made a face and shook her head. 'Never seen them before in my life.'

'They're like, my favourite candy of all time! But they're impossible to find this time of year.'

'Maybe you had them in your pocket this whole time and just forgot about them?'

'Yeah... maybe...'

AJ returned to her book, a small, sly smile on her lips when warm arms engulfed her shoulders and lips nuzzled into her hair, kissing her passionately. 'I fucking love you, April Jeanette Mendez!'

Her cheeks began to turn pink and she beamed back bashfully.

'I love you too!'

*I am never writing Dr Crankenstein's Peanut-Butter Stuffed Goober-Heads ever again!!!

[jihyocentric]

3mix as professors who their students argue every year about if they are dating and if they are, which two would be dating, but in reality they are a throuple. It’s entertaining for them to watch their students fight about them though, but sometimes one of them may get insecure when the students clearly favour the other two as an otp. That leads to a pampering session where they are reminded the other two still love them just as much.

as much as they tried to hide their relationship, from time to time they’d give their students a few clues that could enhance their imagination.

they’ve been together for longer than any of their students could imagine, and with that, they have created habits that served as proof that they were indeed in a relationship. like the way nayeon would fix jeongyeon’s bangs and intertwine her hand with jihyo’s while they’re walking, way too close for someone who was only their friend.

nayeon was certainly the biggest threat to their secret coming out, but the other two weren’t completely innocent either. they worked in different buildings, but jeongyeon couldn’t resist the urge to spoil the both of them. during lunch time, sometimes she’d sneak out to give them sweets or merely steal a kiss where nobody could see them.

jihyo, however, was the most secretive out of the three, and that’s why some of their students came to the conclusion that she was but a friend of the real couple, nayeon and jeongyeon.

not all of them thought nayeon and jeongyeon were together — some of them rooted for miss park and miss yoo, others rooted for miss im and miss park. but the most popular couple was, surely, nayeon and jeongyeon.

even then, they had a good time making their students confused about their relationship. they weren’t trying to keep it a secret forever, but there was no need for their private life to be exposed.

that’s why the three of them would immediately change the subject whenever a student tried to get useful information about their relationship, never giving it away, even if they were bribed with candy and compliments.

but it was obvious enough, really. if their students were clever enough, they’d see the truth.

“wait, i think i forgot my phone in the office,” jihyo sighs, searching for the object inside her purse, finding nothing but her wallet and papers. “i’ll be right back.”

“not again.” nayeon groans. “if you take long to get it back we’re going home without you.”

“it’s her day to drive though.” jeongyeon points out, from the backseat.

“it’ll take less than five minutes, i promise!” jihyo presses a kiss on nayeon’s cheek that makes the grumpiness go away, doing the same with jeongyeon, despite struggling to reach her.

she grabs the car keys before leaving, knowing they wouldn’t leave without her, but it was better to be sure that they wouldn’t than fully trust them.

jihyo manages to walk fast enough to the office to get her phone, doing it in under three minutes, for nayeon and jeongyeon’s sake. she places it safely inside her purse, at the bottom where she wouldn’t lose it easily and gets ready to run again.

she only stops when she hears familiar voices at the end of the hallway, noticing that they’re talking about her, nayeon and jeongyeon again.

“they’re all dating.” ryujin concludes, decisive and tired of the discussion that started months ago.

“miss park wouldn’t do something like that.” lia denies, shaking her head.

jihyo raises her brows, mashing her lips to keep a laugh from coming out.

oh, but miss park would and she does.

“then why do they always go home together? miss yoo treats the both of them the same. and the three of them have matching rings. wedding rings!” yuna defends her theory, siding with ryujin.

“well, miss park probably lives near them. that’s why they go home in the same car!” yeji protests, certain that her and lia’s conclusion was the only correct answer to the rumors going around about their professors. “besides, how are you so sure those are matching rings?”

“i’m not sure… but they look the same.” yuna takes a seat on the bench, next to yeji. “you haven’t seen the way miss yoo treats miss park, that’s why you don’t believe me. you would if…”

as yuna tries to argue that her favorite professor wasn’t a third wheel and that she was actually in a relationship with nayeon and jeongyeon, jihyo decides it’s her time to take a leave.

she had heard enough and her lovers might be ready to jump at her neck for taking twice the time she said she'd take to be back, depriving them from getting home early.

“good evening, girls.” jihyo laughs softly, passing right by them, hearing stuttered ‘good evening miss park’s as she walks back to the car.

“did i miss anything?” chaeryeong shows up only a few seconds after jihyo leaves, snapping her fingers to get her friends' attention, but none of them can find the words to answer her question, afraid they might have been caught talking about their professors’ love lives.

jihyo has never felt left out when it came to her relationship with nayeon and jeongyeon, but after the rumors that they were dating started, jealousy became less rare of a feeling. it was no good, she knew it, there was nothing for her to be jealous about, not when both nayeon and jeongyeon loved her with their entire hearts.

and yet jihyo feels as insecure as she was back when they met, long years before they reached their current stability — old enough to understand their feelings, with solid jobs, a great house and rings on their fingers that meant that they belonged to each other.

“you’re weird.” jeongyeon reaches jihyo from behind, after they have all showered and eaten dinner.

as a penalty for making them wait, nayeon and jeongyeon decided that it was jihyo’s day to do the dishes again.

“thank you, that’s very sweet of you, jeong.” jihyo replies grumpily, rinsing the last plate that was in the sink.

“no, like, you’re weird weird.” jeongyeon says and jihyo pulls away from her grip, drying her hands on a towel. “what’s up, baby? are you upset we made you drive and do the dishes?”

“no. it’s nothing, jeongie.” jihyo sighs deeply — extra dramatic, because she knew that would make jeongyeon worry and keep asking if she’s alright. jihyo knew all the tactics required to get some pampering. on that particular day, she truly needed it.

“come here, im nayeon!” jeongyeon shouts to nayeon, who was busy feeding their pets.

“is it important?” nayeon asks, loud enough for them to hear it, making sure no one would steal the other’s food.

bbuyo, jihyo’s selfish cat had made progress and he wasn’t trying to eat bomb’s food anymore, but nayeon would still watch them to be sure bomb would get his dinner properly. the dogs were real angels compared to the cats.

“jihyo is sad and it’s your fault!” jeongyeon shouts back and nayeon goes running to the kitchen.

“what? what did i do?!” nayeon asks worriedly, approaching them with a slight pout. “is it because i made you do the dishes?”

“it’s not about the dishes.” jihyo looks at nayeon. “and it isn’t her fault.” she tells jeongyeon and sighs, trying to walk always from them but she was easily cornered by nayeon and jeongyeon. “can we take this somewhere else?”

nayeon and jeongyeon look at each other and agree to let jihyo walk freely. they follow jihyo back to their room, but not without questioning her about what was going on.

“then what is it?” nayeon pushes, walking annoyingly close, almost making jihyo stumble on her feet. “oh, c’mon, you’re making me nervous! i don’t think i did anything bad! it’s probably jeongyeon’s fault anyway.”

“it’s no one’s fault.” jihyo stops on her tracks, pouting. “just need some love, that’s all!”

“something definitely happened.” jeongyeon raises her brows. “tell us, baby. what’s going on?”

jihyo finds her spot on the bed, which was in the middle. nayeon and jeongyeon follow her, sitting on her sides. “you will laugh at me!”

“we won’t, baby.” jeongyeon replies, and although her answer isn’t fully sincere, the reassurance convinces jihyo to spit it out.

jihyo blurts it out hurriedly, face flushed as she tells them about what she heard when she went to grab her phone earlier, ashamed to admit she was jealous due to something as frivolous as what her students think about them.

nayeon and jeongyeon aren’t quick enough to understand every word jihyo lets out during the seconds that she vents her feelings, but soon enough they realize the problem in question. jihyo was upset because people thought the both of them were dating, excluding her from their relationship…

“when it’s clear enough i’m dating you too!” jihyo breathes out, burying her face on the pillow to hide away from nayeon and jeongyeon’s amused faces.

“it’s not their fault, hyo. they probably think like that because jeong and i are less... strict about it,” nayeon quickly comforts her, rubbing jihyo’s back with her hand.

“i’m not strict!” jihyo whines, taking her face away from the pillow and sitting on the bed, with her back against the headboard.

“well…” jeongyeon starts, but the words she wanted to say never come out, unable to contradict jihyo when she looked like a sad puppy who needed pets. “how can we make this better?”

jihyo feels like she had just hit the jackpot with the way the both of them look at her. they were clearly willing to do anything she asked, both of them ready to risk it all for jihyo if needed — it wasn’t anything jihyo wasn’t already used to, loving to be spoiled by them.

“cuddles.” jihyo replies, sighing loudly, as if she was hurt. “and kisses. lots of kisses. and bbuyo sleeps with us today.”

nayeon and jeongyeon weren’t happy to have bbuyo sleeping with them that night, mostly because the cat would kick them randomly during the night if they allowed him to sleep in, as if he was telling them not to get too close to his rightful owner.

but they promptly offer jihyo their arms and lips before having to take him in, giving the younger of the three all the warmth jihyo sought for, leaving her breathless with how tight they squeezed her between them.

“w-wait, i changed my mind, bbuyo c-can’t sleep here,” jihyo breaks the kiss with jeongyeon, whimpering as nayeon’s nails scratch her bare tummy.

“i thought so,” nayeon taunts, laughing softly next to her ear. “we need to make it up for you, hyo.”

“mhm, give you a proof that we love you,” jeongyeon adds, kissing down jihyo’s jaw. “would you like that?”

though that wasn’t the kind of pampering jihyo thought she’d receive, she was more than happy with what she got.

“please, unnies!”