#seriously all i have the urge to draw is babies

[charlunday]

Hilarious to me when people who are objectively good artists can't draw babies at all

[selfcarecap]

MUSE [L.H.]

Logan Howlett x reader

summary: Logan would never admit it to anyone, but over the course of his long life he has attempted to draw maybe once or twice. He hasn’t done it in years, maybe even decades, but he’s struck by inspiration when he meets you. Of course, no one can know that Wolverine draws, so he does it in the dead of night, sliding anonymous envelopes with the finished drawings of you under your door. When he sees how much you love them, he wonders if you could also love the person behind them. 

warnings: smut 18+ but with an actual plot for once (brief m masturbation, oral f and m rec, unprotected piv sex, kind of accidental (but consensual obv) facial; pet names: bub, baby, good girl, princess), soft!Logan but he won’t admit it, also soft!reader, fluff (although the summary makes it sounds a bit more dramatic than it is tbh), implication that reader has curly hair, implied mutant/X-men!reader, (obviously the pic doesn’t represent the envelopes Logan uses lol he’s not doing all that)

word count: 7.3k

also i feel the need to say something about the fact that it’s Hugh Jackman’s birthday today lol so uh thanks for being huge jacked man and for giving us our Logan yay <3 | gorgeous divider by @plutism

It’s everything Logan is the opposite of – he would never tell a soul – but over the course of his long life, Logan has attempted to draw maybe once or twice. It’s not really him, but he did have a phase or two.

When he meets you, he hasn’t even thought of picking up a pencil in years. Ever since you’ve been at the mansion though, Logan’s fingertips twitch with the urge to start sketching your features every time he’s with you. It gets hard to ignore after a few days.

He waits until he’s known you a few weeks, there’s no way in hell he’d ask if he could draw you. He’d probably embarrass you by asking, and embarrass himself by admitting he’s into fucking art. That’s not him. 

Except, well, sometimes it is, when he’s inspired. And you’re nothing if not inspiring. 

He gives in to the urge to get out pencil and paper again, waiting until everyone else has gone to sleep. The first few drawings are shit, he feels like they’re almost an insult to you. It’s not that he’s accidentally drawing you ugly, it just doesn’t look like you. So he practises. 

Logan Howlett sits down at night to practise drawing. 

He picks out a few other things to draw then, to ease the pressure that comes with drawing the woman he… is friends with. Yeah, you’re a friend. And he totally knows that you’d never go for someone as rugged as him, that’s for sure. You deserve much more. So much more. 

But after a few nights he feels more confident in his drawing skills again, but still, as much as he can picture you in his mind – he can do that absolutely perfectly – he’s not too sure he could really draw you accurately.

So he gets Rogue to show him how goddamn fucking Instagram works so that he can look at some of your pictures and use them as a model. 

He doesn’t know what you’re doing to him; you’ve got him using social media.

He can’t believe it, but the first time he seriously attempts to draw you, it’s perfect. It’s a small drawing, not even as big as his palm, capturing your gorgeous face. He thinks of adding another few lines to your eyebrows, or to your hair or another small one to the outline of your lips, but he doesn’t want to mess with it. 

Logan hates how drawing makes him overthink, but he loves how it feels to create something other than violence with his hands for once – something that may even be the opposite. 

He hides the drawing in between the pages of a book, and hides the book under a pile of random clutter on his desk that not even he would normally spare a glance at. But when he lies down to go to sleep, he gets all the stuff out again and gets out the drawing. He wants to see it again. And he can’t leave it there anyway, what if the pressure from all the items on top of it smudges it? 

But he doesn’t know what else to do with it. He can’t really have a drawing of you sitting in his room. What if someone sees? Then what is he gonna do with it instead? 

He finally lets himself think the thought that’s politely been waiting to be allowed into his brain from the moment he decided he might take up drawing again. 

He could give it to you. 

Logan knows his drawing isn’t objectively a masterpiece, but if he’s proud of it he has to acknowledge that that probably means it’s at least decent. And you’re definitely the type of person to appreciate something like this. It’s weird admitting to himself that he’s even proud of what he’s drawn; he’s done so much in this world, who cares about a little drawing? 

The only thing is that Logan isn’t sure if he’s ready for anyone to see this side of him. To see the side that has him staying up until 3AM to finely trace the lines of someone’s eyelashes and cheekbones and lips, the side that makes him feel calm inside. 

He knows it’s stupid to hide but he just can’t. He decides he’ll leave the drawing in your room in an envelope, maybe a pink one to show you it’s not a creepy threat but meant as a sign of adoration, from someone who couldn’t resist but try to recreate your beauty. He won’t write his name on it, he just wants you to have it. 

Sappy motherfucker. 

He puts the small drawing back into the book and carefully pushes it between his mattress and the bedframe to protect it during the night. God, who even is he – protecting a tiny piece of paper? He groans at himself as he turns around to go to sleep. 

He dreams of making a thousand drawings of you, with you as his live model. His muse. 

You’re his girlfriend in his dream, he thinks. 

He’s sitting in a chair in your room, drawing you as you tell him about your day. You’re lying on your bed on your tummy, elbows propped up to support your head. You’re gently kicking your feet in the air behind you, wearing nothing but a t-shirt of Logan’s, some silly graphic socks, panties with little cherries on them, and a bright, bashful smile as Logan attempts to capture your glowing features in a sketch block he’s dedicated to drawings of you. 

He wakes up with morning wood. 

Logan is no stranger to jerking off with you on his mind, so he spits in his hand and slips it beneath his boxers, stroking himself as he thinks of you. He imagines you on top of him as he jerks his cock, imagines you under him, or with your legs around his head, or you between his knees on the floor. He cums quickly and hard, leaving his boxers wet and sticky.

He goes for a run after he’s dealt with it and picks up an envelope on his way. He’s doubting himself but he knows he has to just do it. He’d doubt himself even more if he pussied out – a grown man who can’t even slide an envelope under someone’s door. 

So Logan mans up and, like an idiot, kisses the fucking drawing before he puts it into the envelope. He licks the edges of it to close it and writes your name in the most anonymous handwriting he can muster and adds a little heart. 

It’s soo stupid. 

He makes sure no one is anywhere near your bedroom, walks up to your door, and slides the envelope underneath. Except he didn’t check if you were in your room. As soon as the envelope disappears beneath your door, he hears a short creak from your bed and your soft footsteps. 

He hears the small and adorable noise of curiosity you let out – a confused hm? – and then he quickly and quietly makes his way down the hallway. He hears your voice about ten seconds later, an intrigued hello? as you open the door, but you don’t investigate further, closing the door behind you. 

Logan’s heart is beating so fast. He’s never doing this shit again. 

He’s antsy all day, waiting for some type of reaction from you. Except you don’t know that the drawing is from him so he’s probably not even getting one, and he can’t conspicuously come to your room the same day you receive an anonymous drawing of yourself. 

It’s also when the insecurity settles in. Maybe he should have added a few more lines or started the entire drawing anew. Who does he think he is pretending to be an artist? 

He shakes those thoughts off as he starts training with the punching bag in the gym. It’s not something that he necessarily needs to train, but it gets rid of some of that pointless energy. This isn’t him, worried about some lines he drew on a piece of paper – a scrap of a paper, really. Who cares about something like that? Certainly not him. 

He sleeps dreamlessly and wakes up the next day disappointed that he didn’t get to dream about being your boyfriend again. God, what are you doing to him? Making him think about being boyfriend and girlfriend. He’s pathetic. You’re a friend and nothing more, and that’s fine. You probably don’t like him like that and he can deal with that.

-

He’s not even thinking of the drawing anymore, truly, when he walks into the kitchen the next morning. It only comes to mind when he sees you, alone in the kitchen, leaning over the counter to scroll on your phone, your weird green coffee (“it’s Matcha, Logan”) next to you as you stir it mindlessly with a metal straw. 

“Hi,” you look up with one of those sweet smiles of yours, but redirect your attention to your phone. 

At least you don’t immediately say something like hey, you know that drawing you slid under my door? It was so ugly I threw it away. Since when do you even draw? 

Not that he was worried you would or anything. He hasn’t been thinking about it. Obviously. Why would he? And he knows you would never expect that it’s him; that’s the only reason he did it. He never would have given you the drawing if he thought you could have even the slightest inkling that Logan would be someone who draws. But he still wants to know what you think of it. 

“You want some toast too?” You ask, putting your phone down and turning to get some bread. He sits down at the other side of the kitchen counter and as his eyes flicker to your green drink (he still doesn’t get it), he sees it. 

“Is that–” my drawing, he almost said, “What is that?” He pretends to be confused, drawing his eyebrows together, trying his best to look inquisitive, “No toast by the way, thanks.” 

You have one of those clear phone cases, filled with a bunch of tiny pictures and stickers (and is that your credit card?). But wedged in front of all of those is Logan’s drawing. 

“Did you draw it?” He asks. 

You turn around, giggling, “No, I don’t draw. And anyway, I wouldn’t be drawing pictures of myself. I got it in an envelope under my door yesterday, photocopied it because I was scared it would bend in my phone case. I don’t know who drew it.” 

“Secret admirer?” 

Smiling, you say, “I don’t know. I won’t get my hopes up. But the person must definitely be fond of me to draw me like that.” 

“Like what?” He asks, unsure if he’s about to be offended. 

“I don’t know, just, so beautiful. I’m not saying I’m not pretty or anything, but this looks… I don’t look like that. I wish I did. I can’t believe someone actually sees me like that. It’s stupid but I….” You trail off and, conveniently, the toast is done at the same time and you move on to that. 

But Logan won’t let you, “What’s stupid?” 

You turn towards him with a shy smile, “I’m embarrassed.”

Logan stays silent. He can’t seem too pushy and draw attention to himself, but his silence makes you confess.

“I cried when I first saw it yesterday. It’s one of the best gifts I’ve ever gotten. And it’s the nicest compliment I’ve ever received, for someone to perceive me in such an artistic way.” 

Logan makes a noise of satisfaction and smiles, asking you to pass your phone so he can look at it more – pretending it’s his first time seeing it. If you think that way about it, maybe the three more lines he was going to add aren’t that important after all. 

The problem is that it makes him want to draw more, his stupid heart melting at your reaction to something he made– no, created. 

-

After a week, he figures he has to give in. Drawing another picture of you is on his mind twenty-four seven. 

It doesn’t help that he still catches you staring at the copy of it in your phone case lovingly more than once a day and you’ve put the original drawing in a special little frame on your nightstand. He thinks he’s sappy for drawing it but he doesn’t think the same of you for enjoying the drawing. 

This is for you. It’s not about him. He’s not an artist or anything like that, he’s just doing something kind for someone he cares about (which is honestly sappy enough but he tries to ignore that). He’s usually more of a silent carer but maybe that’s why he likes this. He’s not making it a grand gesture, not making it a thing that he’s the one drawing for you. It’s just for you to enjoy. 

He’ll just make this second drawing and silently put it in your room, and he’s the last person you’ll suspect. 

But of course now that he knows it means something to you, he can’t get anything right. He draws your hair too curly, then not curly enough. He draws your nose too big, then too small. Your eyes end up crooked. He can’t erase too much because it’ll look sloppy, so even the drawing he gets almost perfect, he ruins with a few final additions at the end. 

It takes him an entire month for the next drawing, and it feels more like him that it’s been making him so angry that he couldn’t get it right at first. Maybe he had the wrong picture of artists. They’re always talking about pain, aren’t they, and that’s what he experiences too (over a drawing. Who is he?). 

He takes another few days to keep track of your routine, to monitor when you’ll be in your room. He can’t have it be as close as last time. 

He ends up doing it in the evening. There’s a time after dinner when most of the team stays together to watch tv, just talk, or play some games. It’s normal for some of you to wander off, come back or stick around a bit longer. It won’t be suspicious if he leaves for a few minutes and comes back.

Logan wants nothing more than to follow you when you say that you’re going to your room for the night; he wants to see your reaction. But he can’t. All he can do is go up to his own bedroom fifteen minutes later, lingering in the hallway longer than he needs to.

Just as he’s about to give up and go to sleep, you walk down the hallway, coming back from the bathroom.

“Logan!” you call all excitedly when you see him, and his heart skips a beat. Do you know the drawing is from him? 

“Look,” you take his arm and pull him to your room, “I got another drawing!”

He breathes out in relief; you don’t know it’s from him. He smiles when you hold up the drawing, already framed.

“Were you expecting to get another drawing?” he teases.

“Noo, but the frames came in a pack of two. Isn’t it gorgeous?”

Logan looks at how your eyes sparkle, how proudly you’re showing him this drawing. All the work he put into it was definitely worth it. It’s another picture of your face, this time from a new angle, and with your hair styled differently, curls coiled another way from last time.

Logan clears his throat, remembering to keep up his act. “It looks good.”

“Good?” you take the frame from his hands defensively, “It’s beautiful.”

He chuckles, “Sorry, I don’t know much about this type of thing. It is beautiful though.” He’s looking at you instead of his drawing.

“It is. And you don’t have to know much about art or drawing to see how pretty this is. I still can’t believe someone would take the time to make these for me.”

Logan remains silent instead of saying what he wants to tell you. Of course he would take that time for you – and you don’t even know how much time it really took him. If there’s someone who’s worth it, it’s you.

Seeing your pleased smile at something he made for you, he decides he’s never going to stop drawing you.

-

He’s on a roll for some time. He’s better at drawing again now that he’s getting in practice, and he makes five drawings of you within the next weeks. Logan watches the collection of them on your nightstand grow fuller, along with your smile that somehow gets bigger every time you tell him about a new drawing.

It’s a wonder you haven’t caught on yet, but you don’t seem particularly interested in snooping around to find out who it is. You respect the person’s privacy, but you’ve confessed to him that you’d still love to know. 

“I won’t try to find out who it is. I won’t push it if they don’t want me to know… but, I mean, anyone would want to know, wouldn’t they?”

You’ve adopted the nickname of ‘secret admirer’ for this mysterious ‘they’, after Logan used the term about ten times. You were reluctant at first, because the person isn’t calling themself a secret admirer – you’d just be putting words in their mouth. But after seeing how much more beautiful the drawings get each time, you’ve accepted and admitted that, okay, yes, the person must be an admirer.

Your secret admirer Logan is particularly proud of his latest drawing, excited to bring it up to your room tonight. 

But this time he’s sloppy. He’s stayed for a few post-dinner card games with the team, and it’s risky, because you’ve been saying that it’s your last game for the last two rounds. But he also knows that you always say that, and never mean it.

Logan gets up to leave, and he hears Scott convincing you to play just one more round.

It’s stupid, really, risking it like that. Even if he’s gone from your room in time before you come upstairs, you could easily guess that it’s Logan. He’s the first one leaving the round tonight, so your first assumption could be that it was him.

Maybe subconsciously he wants to get caught. He’s seen how you light up at every drawing, and no matter how much you respect your admirer’s anonymity, of course you want to know who’s dedicating so much time and work to drawings of you. Of course it’s crossed your mind that the person isn’t just doing this because they’re a good friend. They’re drawing your face because they think it’s beyond beautiful.

Logan doesn’t really know why he hasn’t told you yet that he likes you. He’s good at flirting, and he’s attractive – he’s not blind. But with you it’s different, there’s a bigger risk, for the both of you. The older he gets, the harder it is to open up to yet another person. You’re friends, and you talk about personal things, but confessing that he’s in love with you is different.

Not to mention this stupid recurring dream he keeps having, in which you find out it’s Logan who’s been drawing you, and suddenly your opinion of the drawings changes. You don’t like him back like that, and suddenly the drawings feel creepy if you think about him staying up late drawing your face.

He rolls his eyes at himself and gets the thought out of his head, taking the small envelope out of the back pocket of his jeans, smoothing his hand over it. He looks around, making sure no one sees him.

Logan bends down to slide the envelope under your door as usual, but one of the corners of the paper catches against the wall, and he quickly opens it to check the drawing isn’t damaged. His heart is beating so fast, he feels stupid. 

He can hear footsteps, still far away, but he can hear them. Logan messily licks the edges of the envelope to close it back up, but it’s not sticking. He can’t decide between shoving it under the door like this or leaving now and bringing it back the next day. He can feel his heart hammering against his ribcage now.

Then he hears it. He miscalculated how far the footsteps were.

“Logan?”

He turns around slowly, and it feels like the world has frozen.

You come closer, looking at him and then at the letter that he must’ve dropped. It hasn’t made it under your door yet.

He says something before you can, “I’m delivering for someone else.”

“Who?” you ask, bending down to pick up the envelope. If he wasn’t petrified, he’d enjoy the view of you bent over in front of him.

He breathes. He can’t have anyone taking credit for his work, for his art (you called it that recently, he would never). But his heart is beating so fast he doesn’t know what the fuck to do or say. 

This is exactly why he never wanted to do any of this. He’s making a fool out of himself and that doesn’t usually happen, especially not over a piece of paper. Logan is confident, cocky even, he can admit that, and has no idea how to deal with things like being nervous; he never has to. This really isn’t him.

You don’t wait for an answer and look at the envelope. You open it so carefully, gently taking the drawing out with your fingertips. You’re treating it with so much care he immediately feels better. Again, this isn’t for him, it’s for you. (Well, it’s for him too but it’ll take him a while to admit that). 

He’s drawn your smile this time. You were happy in most of the drawings before, but he focussed more on the eyes, and your lips only ever tugged up in a slight smile. 

This one is a full-toothed grin, mid-laugh. 

You two were drinking last weekend. He barely felt it but your tipsy, giggly mood was contagious. He couldn’t imagine himself feeling any other way but blissful when you’re happy around him. 

It started when Logan made a casual comment about something silly Scott was wearing that night, and he had you giggling. He wanted to immediately hear that angelic sound again, of course, and so he gave you every joke about your shared friends he could think of – all light-hearted, but he was still glad you two were alone. 

It was the stupidest joke of all that made you really laugh, some dumb comparison between Xavier and Caillou. You probably wouldn’t even giggle at it anymore now, but in the moment it was so funny you almost spat out your drink from the deep belly laugh he drew from you, holding onto his bicep so you wouldn’t fall over as tears formed in your eyes from how hard you were laughing. He wanted to engrave the image on his soul. At least he got your smile on paper.

You look up at him now, eyes filled with tears. 

“You drew this?” you ask.

He nods softly. He can’t say it but he hopes the drawings convey how in love with you he is. 

Suddenly, Logan feels like his heart has stopped beating.

You’re kissing him. 

You’ve leaped up, wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, and now your lips are on his. 

He feels your mouth falter, probably because he’s being a fucking idiot and not kissing you back. Logan places his hands on your waist to pull you further towards him. Then his brain finally catches up and he can do what he’s wanted to for so long. 

He takes your chin with two fingers and angles you so you can kiss him easier. He closes his eyes and revels in the feeling of your soft, warm lips against him. You’re soft and warm all over. Your top has slipped up over his fingertips at your sides, and he slides his hands further around your back to support you against him even better. 

Logan’s tongue pushes at your lower lip, and you let out the sexiest, tiny moan of surprise as you part your lips for him, granting him access. 

His tongue touches the tip of yours and from then on your cravings intensify. You feel your way over his muscular shoulders, his big biceps and over the hard planes of his chest. When you’ve had a good feel there, your hands grip his shirt in desperation and Logan gets even hungrier for you. He gently bites at your lower lip, but then you shriek into his mouth and squirm out of his grasp. He opens his eyes wide. 

You grip Logan’s forearm for support when you bend down in a panic, picking up the drawing you just dropped. You let out a big breath of relief when you see it hasn’t been damaged. 

“You made me drop it!” You slap a hand to his chest; it doesn’t actually hurt and it’s not meant to, but it leaves a pleasant tingle behind instead. 

“I didn’t do anything”, Logan laughs, and you shake your head at him with a smile.

You take him into your room where you make him sit on the bed while you stare at the new drawing in awe. “I didn’t know you draw”, you say without taking your eyes off it.

“No one else knows.”

You pretend to zip your lips, smiling, “It’s our secret.” Logan can tell that you like that. He likes it too. It feels much better to share a secret with you than to be keeping one from you.

“I’ll only draw for you anyway, so there’s no point in telling anyone else.”

“You’re really good. I love the drawings.”

Logan gives a satisfied hum at your words, “You inspired me. Can’t have you walking around all pretty and not expect me to try and recreate it.”

You straddle Logan and hover over his lap to hug him, “They’re the best thing anyone's ever given to me. Do I really look like that?” You say the last question more quietly, and Logan wraps his arms around your sides, careful not to bump your hand that’s still holding the drawing.

“You’re more gorgeous than anything I could ever capture, but I think it comes close. I didn’t change anything about you to make you more beautiful. I couldn’t if I tried. I just tried to draw you as accurately as possible, that’s why it’s so beautiful.”

“I really love it,” you say again, happily staring at the details of the drawing. Hearing you say the word love so much tempts Logan, but he doesn’t want to move too fast. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you. He does, however, want to kiss you again.

Logan carefully takes the framed drawing and puts it on your nightstand. You push your mouth against his before he can initiate the kiss, and he grins against your lips.

You don’t know how to put your feelings into words, so you’re kissing him instead. He pulls you down so that you’re not hovering over but sitting on his lap, and the mood immediately shifts to something different. Logan doesn’t want to overwhelm you, but if you’re ready then he’ll take anything he can get.

Your chest is pressed against Logan’s, and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest when he breathes. You may or may not be pressing your boobs against his body on purpose.

“God, baby, I’ve waited so long for this,” he says, already breathless, as his hands trail down your back, leaving goosebumps behind.

“You’ve waited long?” you raise your eyebrows, grinning, “I’ve wanted to fuck you since the day I met you.”

You see the look in Logan’s eyes changing as he bites his lip, “Who says I didn’t want the same?”

You giggle, “Why did it take us so long?”

Logan chuckles, readjusting you so that you’re even closer to him, “I was too busy to actually talk to you, just been starin’ at you so I could draw you.” His cheeks have the faintest red tint, and you kiss them, hugging him.

You whisper into his ear, “Then it was worth the wait. And anyway, it’s not talking that I’m interested in right now.”

He pulls you back to look into your eyes, then at your lips. “Where do you want me?” he asks. You giggle slightly helplessly; you weren’t entirely prepared to have a man like Logan at your mercy like this tonight.

“You can do whatever you want,” you say softly, kissing him.

Logan’s lips are hungry against yours, strings of spit falling between you two, but he pauses the kiss to lie you on your back. “Wanna eat you out,” he husks, “Been dying to know what you taste like forever, bub. Can I?” He reaches for the hem of your top, and you nod so that he can pull it off you, admiring what’s underneath. 

“Sometimes I make myself cum imagining that I’m going down on you,” you confess somewhat shyly, but you figure he’s been so vulnerable for you that you can share a secret too.

Logan smirks, and pulls off his shirt, “Maybe we can make your dream come true then.”

You move to sit up, but he insists on eating you out first. You both take off all your clothes, staring at each other with huge smiles on your faces for a few moments. You’ve never seen Logan this happy.

“Look at you, baby. So pretty,” he leans down to kiss your lips, then down your neck, all the way to your legs. He spreads them, lying down between them as he all but drools at the sight of your wet pussy.

You get nervous all of a sudden. “It’s been a while,” you tell him. He looks up, taking your hand, enveloping it completely in his much bigger one.

“You sure about this? We can wait,” he gently kisses your knuckles, and a warmth spreads in your chest, slowing your heartbeat down a little.

“I’m sure,” you nod, and Logan comes up again to kiss you. The head of his hard cock catches against the space above your clit, and you both look down between your bodies. When Logan looks back up at you, his eyes are desperately begging you. You place your hand on his head, threading your fingers through his hair as he moves down your body.

“Such a pretty fucking pussy,” he mumbles into your thigh, kissing you there. You giggle, getting comfortable, your hand never leaving his hair.

Logan starts eating you out, his tongue gentle but determined against your clit.

“Taste so good, baby. Even better than I imagined.” You hum at Logan’s words, already feeling yourself come undone with his mouth on your wet pussy.

You sink further into the mattress when he starts sucking on your clit, licking into your pussy like a man starved every few moments, and your thighs squeeze around Logan’s head, and it’s even better than in his fantasies.

“Feels really good,” you tell him, pulling on his hair to stop yourself from moving too much, and Logan moans against your skin. Hearing your words motivates him even more, and he pushes two fingers into your wet pussy. He curls his fingers, rubbing up against that spot that makes you see stars.

Your back arches as you cum, Logan’s lips wrapped around your clit as your legs push harder against his head, and all he does is moan, revelling in the feeling.

Logan doesn’t stop licking your pussy until you’re tugging his head away by his hair, and he comes up for air with a grin on his face. You smile back, pulling him up to kiss him. You give yourself only a few seconds of recovery time before you make him sit down. You know you’d never have enough strength to actually make him get into a different position, but he lets you.

You push him onto his back, getting between his legs. You’re blinking up at him all prettily when you ask, “Can I suck your dick? Please?”

Logan huffs to himself because he can’t believe how hot you are, can’t believe that this is really finally happening. He tells you yes – he has no more words to describe how badly he wants this – and he watches you wrap your pretty lips around his cock.

It’s hard to grasp that it’s really you doing this right now – the woman he’s been into for so long. His cock is in your mouth and you look so gorgeous with spit running down from your lips, and all he can think of is all the dirty drawings he can now make of you, if you’ll let him.

He closes his eyes when you take him deeper, enveloping him with your warm, wet mouth. “Good girl,” he whispers absent-mindedly, too gone to say much more.

You’re not using your hands as you suck his cock, your spit trailing down on him, and you’re so eager. But it’s also late, and he sees you getting tired, eyes blinking slower as you pause to catch your breath every few moments. He also sees the determination in your eyes, and the absolute want, but he doesn’t want you to exhaust yourself. 

You look so sexy all fucked out, strings of spit connecting your mouth to his cock as you pull away another time, giggling up at him shyly when you realise that he’s noticing you getting tired.

“Just need a second,” you wipe your mouth, out of breath, and it’s not that you’re not incredibly hot like this, but he still wants to fuck you tonight and he’s not sure that will happen if you keep going.

“C’mere, baby,” he says, reaching out his hand.

“Huh?” you ask, taking his hand nevertheless.

“Get back here, baby. I’m gonna fuck you now, alright? Don’t want you tiring yourself out.”

You let him lift you and put you on your back, but you pout, “Wanna taste you.”

Logan grins, “I’ll cum in your mouth, princess. Promise.”

You smile at his answer, satisfied, so you lie back down, pulling your legs up to your chest. His cock looks huge as he jerks himself off between your legs, rubbing the tip against your clit, making you squirm.

“Don’t know if I can take you,” you bite your lip. You’re not entirely sure if you mean it or not. You definitely want to try.

“We’ll make it fit, baby, we’ll make it fit,” Logan assures you, leaning down to press a kiss to your mouth, a mix of your wetness and his precum between your mouths. You feel his cock at your pussy, “You ready?”

“I’m ready,” you nod desperately, letting him push his cock into your pussy. He pauses after a few inches, but you wrap your legs around his waist more tightly, and he goes deeper.

“Y’okay, baby? You can take it, right?”

You nod, unable to form words with your pussy stretched like this, a combination of pleasure and pain between your legs – but it’s infinitely more pleasure.

“That’s right. You’re my good girl, hm?” He kisses along your neck as he bottoms out, and you both moan when he’s got his cock fully stuffed inside you for the first time. He pulls out slightly when you whine at the stretch, but you scratch down his back to get his attention.

“I can take it,” you tell him, and you watch the look in his eyes darken.

He begins to fuck you, the pain subsiding more with every thrust into your wet pussy. You can barely take him, but it feels good. With your slight tiredness, you feel like you’re floating on cloud nine. 

You can’t believe that Logan – your super hot friend Logan who you’ve been fantasising about for so long – is fucking you. He not only feels the same way about you, but he’s been your secret admirer this entire time, taking hours and hours out of his day to make you smile. You’re the only one he wants.

And now he’s fucking you, fucking you well, and you feel so warm inside, not just from the sex but you feel warm in your heart, because of Logan’s care.

“You okay?” he asks, stroking a hand down your face when he notices you’re not entirely present. You nod happily, smiling up at him, and you can’t talk because you feel so good.

“Good, that’s good, bub, but let me know if it gets too much,” he says as he starts rubbing your clit, watches you nod while he’s fucking you so well, and he’s so big and so deep inside of you, “Squeezing me so tight, baby, feel so fucking good.”

You cum suddenly, letting the warm pleasure flow through your body as Logan keeps fucking you through it, rubbing your clit in just the right rhythm.

“That’s my girl, taking it so well,” he moans, breaths stuttering. You slump against the pillow after a few moments, with a soft smile on your face, and Logan pulls out.

“Gonna make me cum, baby,” he jerks his cock, and you sit up on your elbows immediately, looking him in the eyes with a smile as you stick out your tongue for him. He promised.

Logan moans when he cums, painting your face in his release, jerking himself off. He holds your head in place with his other hand, aiming for your mouth but you’re making no effort to catch his cum there.

“Such a pretty fucking face, princess, ’m cumming all over it,” he rasps, shooting more ropes of his cum all over your cheeks, jacking off onto your face.

You open your eyes when he’s done and breathing heavily, and you smile up at him. You open your mouth, taking the head of his cock between your lips to suck off the last drops of cum.

“Look at you, baby. Look so fucking pretty with my cum all over your gorgeous face.”

You hum, pulling your mouth off him and licking your lips, tasting his salty release. You brush a finger over your cheek, sucking it into your mouth to taste him more. Logan kisses you then, the flavour of himself mixing between your mouths.

He cleans you up gently, carefully wiping your face with a baby wipe and kissing every inch of your cheeks afterwards. You take his face to kiss him properly, and if you didn’t seem so tired Logan would be ready for round two immediately.

“Next time you could try to actually cum in my mouth,” you tease, making Logan grin.

“Sorry, baby. Got too excited. Couldn’t focus on asking you again if it was okay.” He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your lips.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, “I liked it.”

Logan grins, “Oh I could tell you liked it, baby.” You lightly slap his chest as you giggle, pulling him in for another kiss.

You cuddle for a while, not saying much because you don’t have to. You’ve both waited for this for so long that you’re just enjoying the moment, enjoying that it finally happened.

You slip out of his arms to sit on top of him. You’re in nothing but panties, the blanket bunching around your hips. You lean your hands against his chest as you tell him more about how much the drawings delighted you. And Logan cares, of course he cares to hear that, but he’s also just a man seeing the woman he’s into naked for the first time still. 

You become quiet when you realise that he’s not listening, and you giggle, “Distracted?”

Logan grins, “Just a little fucking bit, baby.” His eyes don’t leave your body, and you laugh as you bend down to kiss him. He grabs your ass, kneading the flesh. When you slightly sit up again, your tits are near his face, and he can’t help himself. He cups your breasts, playing with your nipples, making you hum.

“I should draw these,” he looks up at you, “Should draw every perfect fucking inch of you.”

“You wanna?” You adjust how you’re seated in his lap, and you feel that he’s already half hard under you again.

“Maybe after I’ve fucked you again.”

You smile, feeling yourself growing wetter on top of him.

“Tomorrow,” he continues, and your smile drops.

“But you’ve got to get more familiar with the inspiration, right? If you’re going to draw me.”

“That’s true, baby. But I think you’re too tired.”

You smile bashfully, ignoring how your eyelids were drooping shut just a few seconds ago, “Okay, but then I’ll have more energy for tomorrow.”

“That’s my girl,” he smiles, pulling you off him to cuddle you again. He tucks you in and kisses your head. 

You turn to your side, taking one of the framed drawings and looking at it for a while. 

Logan watches you looking at it, and the sparkle in your eyes never fails to make him feel all warm inside. “Now that you actually know about it, I don’t have to draw you from memory anymore. I can study my muse in peace.”

“Aww, I’m your muse?” you beam.

“Of course you are, princess. You’re the only reason I’m drawing again.”

“I love your drawings so much.”

Logan clears his throat, and looks at you. “Well, I love you. So, I think that went into them.”

You look at him, pouting and then kissing him. “I love you too,” you say into his mouth. He grins against your lips, pulling you closer to kiss you some more. He can barely grasp that you just said that, but he’ll have enough time soon to comprehend how lucky he is. 

For now, he takes your hand, and asks, “The question might be redundant now, but do you wanna be mine? Be my girlfriend?”

“I’m already yours.”

Logan grins, takes you in his arms, and you’re still cuddling when you’re both drifting off to a peaceful sleep.

P.S. reblog with a comment and let me know your favourite moment/what you liked to get a drawing from Logan under your door tonight and a facial <33

gorgeous divider by @pommecita

[jollyhunter]

24 Kinky Days with Dean x reader - Day 5.

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Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW - MDNI! - includes explicit sexual content. It's a kinky writing challenge, so expect anything at this point, (nothing freaky, don't worry) but it's a surprise calendar so I won't spoil it! (Also, English is not my native language) Contains brief reference to Dec.1 (Sunshine)

Advent calendar includes: headcanons, snippets, one shots, imagines, blurbs etc.

Words: 1,330

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A/N: Here I was, thinking I was real creative with this kinky UNO version - then my hubby told me "Ya know this game exists, right?" And of course it does. It's called "Dirty UNO" in case any of you is interested 🤭 On another sidenote, I changed the design for the kinky advent calendar posts! I was missing my Dean moods ayyy

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5th Dec. - Dirty UNO

Dean grins cockily and laughs, “Are you ready to lose, baby?” He playfully wiggles the cards in his hands and winks at you.

You roll your eyes in mock-annoyance and let out a chuckle, “You wish honey, you wish.”

“I’ll make sure to not go to easy on you.” He grins and places down a Draw 2 card. “You owe me two shots and a kiss, gorgeous.”

You keep a straight face as you reach for the shot glass and hold it out for him to fill it up, “Gimme,” you nod at the bottle while you hold your 2 cards close to you.

Dean chuckles “As you wish,” and fills it up to the brim, you chug the whiskey down and he fills it once more, his green eyes gleaming in the dimmed light of the main room as he watches you down the second glass. “I guess I’ll take my other prize now,” he grins as he leans forward for a kiss, quickly capturing your lips in a passionate kiss and taking in the taste of alcohol on your lips.

You briefly swipe your tongue over the bottom of your lip before you draw two cards and add them to your deck, your expression turning mischievous. “My turn, sucker,” You cackle as you smack a Skip card onto his.

“Damnit,” he swears, but there’s no real bite to it - he wouldn’t admit it, but you knew he was gonna enjoy his punishment as much as you do. He quickly chugs down two shots before he stands up from his chair and walks around the table where he kneels down next to you, his hands slowly moving up your legs, “You’re gonna pay for that Skippi,“ he says playfully as he pushes you back onto the chair and spreads your legs.

You have to bite back a moan, determined to not lose this early. Your hands quickly go to unbutton your jeans and he hooks his fingers over the rim to pull them all the way down to your ankles along with your panties. The shots slowly make you lose your inhibitions and you tease him with a sultry smile, “Dig in.” He doesn’t have to be told twice and next thing you know he’s eating you out like a desperate man, his hands grabbing your thighs to keep them spread, his only goal to get some form of noise out of you. You bite your lips and throw back your head, fighting the urge to moan out loud when he’s suddenly sucking at your clit and you finally snap, that guttural moan slipping past your teeth. “There we go,” he hums in a satisfied tone as he pulls away from you, licking his lips, “I knew I would get you to make noises sooner or later,” he looks up at you with that cocky smirk of his before he pushes off the ground and returns to slump down on his seat across from you. “That was unfair,” you breath out shakily, your legs still trembling slightly.

Dean smiles smugly as he watches you try to compose yourself and place down a red 6. “You’re not getting out of this that easily, sunshine.” He grins and looks at his remaining 3 cards, “I believe it’s my turn again.” With a nonchalant flick of his wrist, he tosses a red Reverse card onto yours. He starts to unbuckle his belt while his eyes never leave yours and he has the audacity to wink at you with a tilt of his chin towards his crotch.

“Seriously now?” You scoff but cannot help the smile that tugs at the corner of your lips. You place your cards onto the table, face down, and with quick steps walk around the table, your eyes drifting down to his boner.

“Come on, sweetheart, on your knees.” He grins up at you and pats his thighs, fully aware of how cocky he is at the moment - and you know damn well he’s enjoying every second of it. This was payback, right? You kneel down next to his chair and your hand quickly snakes past his boxers rim to free his fully erected cock. With your free hand you fish out your phone and set the timer on one minute. “If you’re being a good boy for me, I might even make you cum in those 60 seconds.” You tease in a mock-sultry tone before you wrap your fingers around him and start to slide them up and down in a torturous slow pace. Every now and then you squeeze your hand to draw some sweet whimpers from him. His hands grip the edge of the chair and his hips involuntarily buck up towards you while his head drops back against the seat with a low groan. “Damn, baby…” he mumbles as he bites his lips and you start to increase the pace. You’re using just the right amount of friction, determined to make him come undone in the last 20 seconds with your fingers already glistening with his pre-cum. His eyes squeeze closed as he groans again, knowing he’s not going to last much longer and just when the alarm rings, his hips buck up one more time before he cums in the tight grip of your hand. “Fuck,” he pants out as the words leave his mouth, “That was… Damn…” You smile victoriously while you wipe your hand clean. “Told ya.”

After he had regained his composure and you sat back down to pick up your cards, you look up to eye the remaining two cards in his hand. “Your turn, honey.” You challenge him, trying to hide your fear of losing.

Dean notices how your eyes keep darting to his two remaining cards and he doesn’t miss the chance to grin at you smugly, ”Yeah, ‘m not gonna lie, I don’t have much left here.” He wiggles the two cards between his fingers, his emerald eyes glinting. “Looks like one of us will be naked soon. UNO.” he says while he places down a Draw 2 card. He fills the shot glass and shoves it across the table with a sly smirk, “Go on, down the hatch.”

“Damnit,” you curse silently, your head already a bit hazy of the past couple of shots. “Another two, huh,” you mumble as you down the first shot, letting him refill it before you force down the next one, the whiskey burning your throat as you empty the shot glass. “Alrighty, c’mere-“ you mutter, your voice already taking on a bit of a slur as the alcohol kicks in. You lean over the table and place a swift, sloppy kiss on his lips before you sit back down, adding the additional two cards to your hand. Your eyes narrow, scanning the numbers, until you have to realize that you have no way of stopping him. And honestly, you were kinda relieved about it. Dean is a sore loser and you don’t plan to deal with a grumpy Dean for the rest of the day – plus, it was kinda cute to see his victorious beaming smile. Feigning annoyance, you finally lay down a simple number card and watch his reaction.

Dean grins like a child as he watches you place down your card, realizing he’s got you now. “Looks like you’re in a bit of a spot now,” he teases as he stands up from his chair and walks around the table to stand behind your chair. He leans down to your ear and whispers with his voice a bit deeper than before, “I hope you’re in the mood for another loss, sunshine.” And without further warning he drops his last card onto the stack. His lips curl into a victorious smile as he slides the card with the game rules across the table and his finger taps the last line; Loser takes 2 shots, get naked and make their partner cum. “...Looks like it’s time to strip.”

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Masterlist of opened windows:

1st Dec. - Sunshine 2nd Dec. - Spell Book 3rd Dec. - Lights Out 4th Dec. - Tickle 5th Dec. - Dirty UNO 6th Dec. - (TBA) 7th Dec. - Candlelight 8th Dec. - Hex Play 9th Dec. - Whip Stroke

…(check Masterlist for more!)

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Tags:

@gardenofeden07 @deansjacket @literallylexa @lmpala1967

[ma1dita]

crazy little thing

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader prev -> bedtime stories | next -> anything you want words: 3.4k summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where he spends all his drachmas to make you smile. Sometimes, the Apollo kids are better matchmakers than Aphrodite herself. Everyone’s tired of you two dancing around each other. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader a/n: lil valentines day special though im working on more est. relationship fluff after this!! happy season 2 renewal babies (posted 2/9/24 unbetaed)

—

“Come on, you gotta admit—it’s kinda funny!” 

Luke is met with blank stares at the camp store after he places a few drachmas onto the folding table in front of the Apollo kids. They’re not sure if he’s trying to convince them, or himself.

Because yeah, that’s the excuse he goes for, wanting to spend his savings on having them sing to a certain head counselor instead of admitting his blatantly obvious feelings, so if you ask Lee Fletcher and his half-siblings, it’s kind of pathetic.

“What do we look like, a traveling mariachi band, Castellan?” he deadpans, watching the usually confident boy scratch the back of his neck with his face red like someone who’s been sitting out in the sun for too long. 

“I’m not saying to follow her around all day or whatever, just pick a random time to sing a song and catch her off-guard,” he insists, before meeting the judgmental look of one of Lee’s younger siblings.

Lee chuckles, ruffling his sister’s hair before looking at Luke quite seriously, “She’s a good friend. You’re gonna have to pay us more than that. Special song for a special lady after all.”

The son of Hermes knows he’s gonna regret this sooner or later, but proceeds to throw the rest of his meager earnings onto the table. He has other ways of being resourceful anyway, the box of chocolates he nicked from behind the store counter feeling heavy in his jacket pocket.

“Right… she’s just a friend.”

Luke’s hands fidget at his sides as he stands there, feeling a little stupid.

Lee’s little sister scoops up the coins from the table, her raised eyebrows and light aura mirroring that of her older brother. 

“What song were you thinking?” she asks, “Gotta make sure I know it if I’m singing it to your…friend.”

The 18-year-old boy tugs at his dark curls, getting more embarrassed and wanting to retreat with every minute that passes, but he’s never been one to back down from anything–swordfights, monsters, capture the flag, but this—trying to impress you...is a whole different story somehow.

Why are feelings so damn complicated? 

It feels like being at the butt of a joke, or more accurately—at the sharp edge of a sword, and Luke never lets his fights end in a draw.

“You guys got it covered. Just…surprise me too, I guess,” he sighs, walking off without finishing his sentence. He wishes he could pray a little harder to his dad for luck, even if he’s unsure of what exactly he’s wishing for (or if his dad will even listen).

“Castellan’s hopeless. You think he knows it yet?” the girl asks her brother, to which Lee laughs.

“I don’t think she does either, even though everyone else can see right through them. The new bets are on who’s gonna break first. Chiron’s been keeping track, but don’t tell Mr. D.”

If Luke wants a show, they’ll make sure he’ll get his money’s worth—and hopefully, it’ll push you two along faster. Lee bet on you two getting together before the summer after all, and he’ll be damned if he loses to Clarisse.

—

Valentine’s Day might be the day of love, but for you, someone who’s single (not by choice), and heavily busy with making sure people aren’t so…enamored in public (you’ve lost count of the reports you’ve written out due to indecent behavior this morning alone)---this just feels like another Wednesday, except with more hormonal teenagers with uncontrollable urges than usual. 

Oh, the joys of being the daughter of the camp director, also known as everyone’s favorite narc.

Honestly, love can suck it. With this much love in the air, you can feel it suffocating you like a plastic bag over your head. 

That’s an uncontrollable urge. Too much?

Maybe Silena was right, you do need to open yourself up more to romantic opportunities. But if you have to watch another person swap spit and get pawed at like they’re the last dinner roll at the table…. You might commit arson and set this place ablaze.

You just didn’t understand why people had to go all out today of all days. Shouldn’t love be shown year-round? Though you were a person of theatrics and enjoy a good show, it is amazing how much grandiose displays of affection make you cringe. It felt very performative, instead of genuine, and you would know, you’re the best actress at camp. You’ve acted out stories before, knowing all of the greatest romances and tragedies by heart. And you pride yourself on being a decent teacher to the campers, but for some of them, love still translates to a bad rendition of a ballad they heard on the radio.

Nothing gets past you at this point.

But that sucks too sometimes, you know?

Multiple failed flings and a heartbreak or two weigh down on you on days like this one, as you’re stuck being a bystander to outlandish displays put on by the Aphrodite kids being put to work. Love is their domain anyway, and yours…makes you feel a little less undesirable. Each demigod has their own strengths and weaknesses, but perhaps in the name of love, some of them don’t know how to take a hint. Several forgettable prose readings, a Sparknotes version of Eros and Psyche, and too many red roses to count have you reeling from exhaustion and a bit of disgust—-and it’s only lunchtime. 

So yeah, maybe you’re a little jealous; they could call you Nemesis at this point.

The only flowers you got today were from the little kids from along the path to the strawberry orchard, and though it’s sweet—the human side of you misses affection. 

Devotion. 

To be a daughter of Dionysus meant to deal in extremes, obsession or nothing, and there are very few people who can handle that. Always being too much to handle, or uninterested as a defense mechanism. Perhaps that’s what scares admirers away. 

That, or the fact that Luke Castellan is always attached to your hip. To be honest, you’ve always preferred it that way—the both of you working as a pair always gets things done faster around camp and he brightens your mood, whether you admit it or not. 

But you two are just friends. 

Really good friends who look for each other in crowded rooms, hands constantly brushing against the other for comfort, and able to pick up where the other one leaves off. Usually he’s the first person you see in the morning, and the last person you say goodnight to. You know how he likes his coffee and he cuts your apples for you as you two sit together in your unassigned seats in the dining pavilion. You watch each other’s workshops and if one of you is missing, everyone knows to ask the other to get an answer.

Right? That’s totally normal coworker/friend behavior.

If you were ever given immortality, perhaps they’d make you the goddess of denial.

You’re sweeping up confetti from the dining hall floor after an uncoordinated excuse of a flash mob was performed for one of the Demeter kids… and not to sound like a heinous bitch, but maybe next time they should use something biodegradable… or less messy. Sighing deeply, you feel someone’s eyes on you, and when you look up, Luke’s standing there with two full plates of food.

“Take a break, Trouble. No one’s paying you overtime,” he jokes, and you roll your eyes as you put the broom aside.

“No one’s paying me at all…” you groan, before taking the plate out of his hands and knocking your head against his shoulder in thanks. He snickers as his hand brushes the small of your back, tickling your spine as he leads you to sit at a table.

“Just another holiday. You know how it is.”

“It’d be nice to have a night off though. Sometimes I regret taking up the position,” you mumble through spoonfuls of soup. He throws his large hand over your shoulder, kneading some tension from your trapezius. Head jerking along with the movements, you giggle as soup dribbles off your spoon, which makes his lips quirk into a small smile. Being around you felt so thoughtless and easy that if you told him to jump off a bridge he’d do it without question, which should be more concerning—the hold you have on him is irrevocable. Feelings are way too difficult for his teenage brain to comprehend at this stage. It’s easier to wash dishes with lava or fight off a dragon (bad example, he knows, but there’s something about you that already makes him feel like he’s losing before anything’s even happened).

Luke is someone who fights until the end, a soldier who’s always trained and so ready for anything that sometimes it makes you wonder what war he’s preparing for. Infatuation, or the scarier, four-letter word was not something he was ever briefed on.

“No, you don’t. You’re a control freak,” he says with a grin. 

Luke watches you play with the pendant on your necklace, the dragon scale he fashioned into your favorite accessory glinting in your hand. Running your fingers back and forth over the smooth surface, your other hand puts the spoon down and you place your head on his shoulder. He thinks if he had to describe the four-letter word on the tip of his tongue, he’d tell whoever’s asking about the way you kissed his healing cheek after you both left the Garden of Hesperides. More than a year later, Luke is still unable to find the right words even if the weakness has made a home in his heart with your name written all over it.

“I swear if I have to hear another person croak out a lovesong I might just drown myself in the Long Island Sound,” you scoff as his fingers trace circles onto your waist.

There’s a low strum of a guitar that reaches your ears and your forehead meets the cool surface of the table as you shut your eyes and grumble. It’s Lee and his half-siblings, beginning to walk through the hall seconds away from singing until they see Luke shaking his head and dragging his finger across his throat to please, gods, stop. The Apollo kids swivel and 180, walking out of the hall as the music stops dissonantly, rolling their eyes and dragging their feet.

“That was quick,” you say inquisitively as your head pops up from the table to see Luke looking off in the distance.

“Heh… I think they were just practicing or something…”

He then had to run off and pay them more drachmas for the inconvenience. 

Fucking hustlers.

—

The sun sets quickly on Camp Half-Blood since it’s mid-February, and Luke finds you trying to calm your nerves as you look at the mess of glitter and paper mache that covers the arts and crafts hall from floor to ceiling.

“I can’t believe this!” you say in disbelief as you look at Luke, and he takes the can of Redbull out of your shaking hand.  

“There’s just no fucking way everyone decided to use glitter. It’s everywhere! I’m—CONNOR, PUT THE SCISSORS DOWN!”

Luke sighs as he holds his hand out for his younger brother to give up the craft scissors, which he relinquishes with a mischievous grin. 

“Guys, go find trouble somewhere else,” Luke mutters, pushing his head away, and where Connor goes, Travis quickly follows, tossing a canister of glitter back at him and not knowing it was still open.

“Oops.” 

Immediately, the both of you are showered in iridescent particles, floating over your heads and stuck in your hair as the older Stoll brother looks at the two of you wide-eyed.

“You've already got Trouble anyway,” he says teasingly, and this asshole winks at Luke before bolting out the door.

The room is silent now, and you pinch the bridge of your nose, before speaking, “I don’t care if he’s your brother, Luke. I might just fucking kill him.” You'd say more but your eyes are shut as you try not to breathe in glitter, and then the sound of the doorknob rattling catches your attention. Luke is standing there, finally faced with a door he can’t open, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance–but the effect isn’t as menacing as it should be when he’s covered in red and pink sparkles.

“Not if I get to him first, the little bastard.”

“Just open the door,” you say panicked, running over and forcing his hands off the doorknob.

“I can’t if you won’t let me do it!” He grits, elbowing you and trying to unlock the door with both his inherited gift and brute strength.

“What kind of demigod even are you? Lockpicking is supposed to be your thing!”

“Well OBVIOUSLY, but it’s not working, now is it, Trouble?”

Luke finishes off the rest of your energy drink before throwing the can over his shoulder and he swears he can hear you cuss at him under your breath as you berate him about the mess, so he chooses to focus on busting the door down instead of looking at the glitter stuck in your eyelashes and thinking about how the idea of being stuck in a room with you makes him feel weak at the knees.

Through the window, his eyes meet the group of Apollo kids staring at the predicament you two are in (and the barricade of chairs the Stolls put in front of the door). He sighs, and Lee’s little sister flips him off as they start to walk away again, instruments in tow.

“You gonna charge him again?”

A tiny Will Solace looks at his elders for guidance as they walk along the path. As one of the youngest in the bunch, he especially idolizes anything his half-siblings do, going along with whatever they see fit.

“No, but we’re close enough to the archery range that I might just shoot them through their hearts myself. Eros and Aphrodite themselves are pretty much begging us to,” Lee grumbles.

“Why are we doing this again?” Will babbles, and his half-sister grabs his hand to help him walk faster.

“A crazy little thing called love. You’ll understand it better someday, kid.”

—

Thankfully, it all starts winding down after dinner. Luke finds you leaning against a tree flipping through your clipboard during the camp sing-along, so he tugs at your elbow to get your attention.

“Wanna get out of here?”

You look at him, slotting your pen behind your ear as you notice faint glitter particles still dotted along his cheeks. As your lips pull into a small smile, you say, "I still have a few things to do after this, don't you?"

"Cleared your schedule for the night," he mumbles, and whether it's the glow of the bonfire or he's actually blushing, a teasing expression crosses your face as you step closer and cross your arms at him.

"You cleared my schedule for the night. How on earth did you do that?"

Instead of a proper reply, he grabs your hand, tugging you out to the docks near the lake.

"Don't worry about it."

He's not going to tell you that he owes Chris and Annie a few favors before the end of the month to make up for the night shift they ended up taking. Instead, you both sit cross-legged at the edge of the dock, a gentle breeze brushing at your clothes and for the first time today, you're able to just exist.

"I hate Valentine's Day," you suddenly say, looking up at the night sky, and he's watching you closely as the gentle shine of the moon casts a cool glow on your face. Luke cringes at your statement, thinking he's already thrown away his shot.

"Why's that?"

"Tell me something Luke, am I unlikable? Like, is there anything wrong with me?"

He looks at you like you've told him you’re secretly a cyclops.

“The fuck? How many times do I have to tell you that everyone thinks you’re great?"

You don't even give him a chance to finish his sentence before you blurt, "I don’t want to be great, I want to be loved!" Reeling back a little, you lean back on your hands to create some distance.

 “Sorry... that was a lot, and I’m just...wanting to be noticed. It's nice to have people's attention sometimes, you know?”

You’ve got all of mine, he thinks, realizing he never stood a chance at fighting it—this four-letter feeling you give him is the first and only battle he’ll back down from, and you're the only person he’ll wholeheartedly surrender to.

In short, he’s fucked.

"I always notice you." He pulls out a dented box of chocolates from his jacket pocket, opening it up for the both of you to share, and the look of amusement on your face makes him glad that at least one thing somewhat went to plan today, even if the chocolate truffles are a bit smushed. You’re popping one into your mouth and his dark eyes follow the trail of your fingers to your mouth, feeling his heart beat a bit faster.

But then you both hear the soft strum of a guitar from near the trees, and the two of you turn to hear some of the Apollo kids singing beautifully along the coastline.

I'll be seeing you, in all the old, familiar places... That this heart of mine embraces...

You gasp, grabbing Luke’s arm to push yourself up so that the both of you can turn and face a small group of your closest Apollo friends singing to the both of you. Luke’s eyes soften further when he feels you grab his hand and squeeze, leaning against his shoulder as you listen.

“Did you do this?” you mumble, still entranced by the performance.

“Only if it makes you laugh.”

And you do, in the way that he loves—a bit crazy and too loud, and it’s perfect.

I’ll always think of you that way… I’ll find you in the morning sun….

Whether it’s fireflies or Will bouncing light off the water to look like small, glowing candles, Luke can’t tell—he’s too busy watching your lips pull into a smile so confectionery his sweet tooth starts to ache. The little kid was never good at archery like his other half-siblings, but as your eyes shimmer under the ambient lights, you think his added romantic gesture shot you straight through the heart.

“You know, sometimes I really do hate you, Luke Castellan,” you whisper, and it couldn’t be more far from the truth.

“No, you don’t.”

His eyes flicker to you again, but you’re already looking back at him.

“I don’t.”

And when the night is new, I’ll be looking at the moon… but I’ll be seeing you…

It’s quiet now, and you’re unsure of where the Apollonian ensemble disappeared to but instead of worrying about if they’ll make it back before curfew, you stand there in front of Luke with your guard down.

Getting a little closer than he expected, your noses brush before you pull the slightly crushed wildflowers from your jean pocket, the only physical reminder you’ve kept from today, and tuck them into his jacket pocket, sitting right above his heart. 

“Thank you.”

Luke doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until he feels your lips gently kiss the marred skin on his right cheek, the blemish having an uncanny resemblance to a stroke of lightning; it serves as a reminder of his weakness. The lines blur as his eyes close to savor it and he doesn’t know if weakness is your kisses or his scar—but he is vulnerable to it all the same, realizing there’s a crack in the otherwise perfect persona that he’s worked so hard on.

When his eyes open again, his Achilles’ heel has taken human form.

—

“This has got to be cheating,” Clarisse grumbles as she watches from the distance, hidden behind the trees.

“It’s not cheating if I’m winning. Silena’s gonna get a kick out of this,” Lee chuckles, ushering everyone back towards the cabins. It’s a bit harder to do this in the dark as they try to be quiet and not interrupt whatever will happen next between their favorite counselors.

“Well lucky for you, your gifts are cute and romantic, what am I supposed to do? They fight enough!”

“That’s what got them into this mess in the first place. Come on, curfew’s in 10. We’ll find out which of us wins the bet soon enough,” Chris mutters, pushing them along back onto the main path.

“Easy for you to say, Rodriguez, you live with Luke!”

“Would I ever lie to you, La Rue?” he says with a mischievous grin, and the Apollo kids giggle at the irony.

—

“My body ages,

my anger burns into a seam.

I am so annoyed by love

and still it comes.”

-Kate Baer

ask to be added to luke/general taglists!

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

[bangtaninborderland]

JJK- Late Night Calls.

you get a call from Jungkook at 7am, struck with worry you pick up only to find your adorably tired boyfriend.

Genre: smut, fluff, Jungkook x reader.

Warning: NONE!

A/N: came up with this in 10 minuets thought it was cute enjoy :)

The familiar tune of your phone ringing broke you from your sleep, your vision was blurry but you could still clearly read the caller ID

Incoming Factime Video call: JK ♥️

It must have been 7am in Korea, Jungkook was never awake this early. You quickly answered, a million scenarios running through your mind as to explain why he was calling at such a time and none of them were good.

“Hello?”

He must have seen the panic in your face as he croaked out. “Baby what’s wrong?”

“I thought something happened you’re never awake this early?” You felt a small weight lift off your shoulders as he chuckled.

“I’m fine baby just couldn’t sleep, missed you.” You loved how he sounded when he was sleepy.

You laughed at the way he was laying across his bed, small rolled up pillow underneath him. “You have got to get different pillows.”

“No no I like my pillow.” He laughs, showing you how comfortable it is. “How’s London jagiya?”

You suddenly regretted being in a different country for work, the idea of morning sex seemingly more attractive than anything else. “It’s fine here, I can’t wait to be back home though. The food isn’t as good.”

“The food is the only thing?” He pouted, pulling the blanket further over his face. “What about me and bammie?”

You turned to the side, resting your leg atop the blanket. “Of course I miss you and bam too kook.”

“The bed is cold without you, empty. I think you should quit work and just be a stay at home wife.” He laughed again, although you could tell there was a sliver of hope to his absurd suggestion.

“Never gonna happen, you may be rich but I’m only half way there.” You both laughed, money was never something either of you took seriously you had always shared everything for as long as you could remember. You’d buy him dinner and he would buy dessert. He would buy you designer but he would also be more than happy if you brought him a pack of ramen. “Besides we aren’t even married.”

“Don’t remind me.” He shakes his head, before shifting to rest it upon his arms. “How many days until your back?”

“We should have the contracts finished up in a day or two and then we will have a celebratory dinner and I’ll be on the first flight back.” You explained as you watched him, his tattoos standing out against the white fabric of his sheets, his hair messy. You let your eyes wander, your imagination running wild thinking about how he would look completely naked. “are you wearing pants?”

“Come back and find out jagiya, I’m sure you’re already picturing the ways I’d fuck you.”

The sudden vulgarity of his words left you in a state of shock. “I- when I get home we are definitely doing whatever I’m thinking right now.”

“And what is that doll?” He laughed, fingers drawing circles on the sheet. “What’s going on in that pretty mind of yours?”

“Just thinking about how good your hand would look wrapped around my neck.” You pushed yourself further into the pillow, slightly shy.

“Too bad you’re too far away baby. We should sleep.” He closed his eyes, teasing you.

You groaned, fighting the urge to grind against the sheets. “Kook.”

“Hmm?” He mumbled, lazily.

“You turned me on.” You giggled, closing your eyes.

“I’m hard too beautiful, I’ll go to sleep thinking about good good your mouth will feel around my cock.

“Why couldn’t you call me at 8pm and get all dirty with me? Why does it have to be when I’m too tired to do anything?” You whined, wanting to cry from how much you missed his touch.

“It’s okay princess when you’re home I’ll take care of you. we should still sleep you have a meeting tomorrow morning don’t you?” You opened one eye, just enough to see him staring at you smiling.

“At six am, it’s 11pm right now. I have to wake up at 4am so I can finish the presentation.” You explained, your words slurring as you started to drift off. “Are you working tomorrow?”

“I have a few appointments nothing important, call me anytime tomorrow I’ll be there but for now get some sleep baby, I won’t hang up.”

“Promise?” You whispered, the folds of sleep covering you in a sheet of darkness.

“Always jagiya.”

[mysticmellowlove]

pls needy!yan x ignoring!reader

note; feeling like an academic weapon in one class while being an academic victim in another is a harsh reality :')

warnings; fluff, so unserious lol, reading this back there is like a subtle yandereness whoops, it was cute though so i hope you still like it

There was one thing in this world that would never change. Work will always continue to be a part of your relaxing afternoons. As your fingers clacked on the keyboard, a riveting sound that had you considering if you'd buy one of those specifically clacky boards instead, the monotonous sound drowned out everything else.

A slow and exaggerated blink later and you realised that maybe two things would never change in this world. Your boyfriend, packaged in a small parcel of sugary sweet words and devious hands, was whining at you from the doorway to the office. If you were to look up from your computer and make eye contact there would be no escaping the resulting cuddle session.

Sometimes you wondered how he even survived without you before... though you'd never actually ask him that as he would most definitely say that he was basically dead. Your boyfriend really was just a funny little guy.

"Baby.... you've been working all day." A sigh came from the corner of the room. You schooled your expression as you took a sneaky peek from the corner of your eye, he was no longer at the door. You flicked between pages on your computer and tried to get back to your work.

"Have you forgotten about me?" A sulky tone seemed to drift closer, he was on the move again. A small laugh bubbled up, was he seriously doing this? You two had date night only yesterday, a whole night dedicated to taking him out and swamping him with affection.

In a matter of moments, you jumped as he launched himself onto your lap, his arms winding around your neck. He seemed to sink into you, his body instantly relaxing as you pursed your lips, a soft sigh leaving your mouth.

Still, you continued to work as he fiddled with the hair at your nape, twisting it around his fingers and slowly tugging at it. The urge to simply stop what you were doing and take a nap was high, but there were things you had to get done.

It began to get substantially harder when he began to pepper kisses on your neck, using his intimate knowledge of your sweet spots to try and drag your attention away from your computer. Willingly or not you felt your body relax as he lightly sucked on your skin, drawing it into his mouth.

"I'm busy." You muttered as you swapped your screen to the graph you were working on in excel, the numbers looking even more annoying than they did ten minutes ago. His smile seemed to spread as he pressed his face into your shoulder.

"But wouldn't it be better to spend time with me instead? You can finish this later." He whispered, his voice low and seductive as he peeled himself from your body. You dodged his gaze as he looked at you, an exaggerated pout on his lips.

"Let me take care of it, let me take care of you." He drawled as he leaned in and kissed the tip of your nose, then your forehead and then the side of your mouth. A huff of air left you as you leaned to the side to see the screen better.

"Babe." A certain tinge of harshness leeched into his voice for only a moment before he was kissing your eyelids, forcing them to close. An exasperated sigh left you as you finally let your hands clasped around his waist.

"Go sit on the couch, let me save this first and then we'll spend time together, yeah?" Despite the annoyed look on your face you couldn't help but melt under the cheesy grin he gave you.

"Of course! Love you baby!" He cooed as he jumped off of you and skipped over to the office door. You rolled your eyes as you hit the save button on your computer and went to stand up.

You spoilt him too much...

[sgiandubh]

From barf bag to pity party

The whole 'Kick in the hornets' nest' involuntary series was started by this Anon, received by the de facto leader of the Disgruntled Tumblrettes yesterday evening (in Europe):

The next morning, another Anon chimed in, on the same page, with what prompted the First Kick: S has a child with 'a woman', but God forbid, not with C 🤣🤣🤣.

And then, one of their group felt the need (then the clearly irritated urge) to come back and comment on the above Anon. No less than 5 (five!) long and plethoric comments were written, prompting my Second and Third Kicks - as you all know, the woman practically begged for them.

I feel it's time to show some mercy and draw the line here.

This blog is read (and trusted) by many. Comments were received. Very interesting, matter-of-fact submissions, to say the least. You know: FACTS (🤣🤣🤣). People who have rich and full and loving lives, people who travel. People who don't even agree on many things, yet spontaneously concurred on what things very probably looked like, on that Palm Sunday morning.

Exhibit 1: Mom and Traveler #1 (a mom I am not - but I was a child, unbelievable as it might sound, and I absolutely confirm every single bit of it)

I am not yet ridden with dementia, and I remember very well waking everyone up at ungodly hours and refusing my mandatory afternoon siesta (a very bad habit we have in Southern Europe). I wish I would still have that same insane energy now. I also wish I would have kept my 3 year old fashion model food quirks - but that is another story.

However, I am a dog slave (not owner) and as such, I am taking Baby out for his short (but excruciating) morning routine at 7:30 AM. Come rain or shine. Beg him to finish his business with grace and dignity. He never listens. Labs are a charming, addictive handful and my Greek boy is no exception:

Exhibit 2: Mom and Traveler #2. Who happened to be in GLA on Palm Sunday, March 24, 2024 (for the thick people at the back!):

All that trip was abundantly documented on her own page. I am reasonably sure she might be reblogging this with her own pics from that day.

And now, for the real questions at stake:

Why make such an unbelievable fuss over an Anon with no pic, that I was reluctant to publish myself?

Why have a cosmic meltdown, in public nonetheless, if you do think this is such a pile of unbelievable nonsense crap? (*imagine the freakout in DMs, if this made the headlines!)

How many times has/have S (or C, or SC) been seen by Antis in GLA in similar postures, without a word being uttered in public?

Why would such an occurrence be An Event, outside of this (help me, I have no words) fandom?

Why insist with your crappy arguments, when it is plain to see you have got all your facts dreadfully wrong?

Why mention 'central Glasgow', when it is public lore (and included in Waypoints!) that S does not live there anymore? (* I blacked out the exact reference, which makes total sense - the least thing I would like to see happening is freaks like you stalking them)

One last time, you insist - comments 6 and 7 (wow, girl!):

First comment is a lie and if you read my Anon (and you know you all did and discussed it to oblivion) you'll have also read this:

Which part of 'he didn't approach' you don't get, in plain English, madam? I am lousy at drawing, but hey - for the cause (open in separate page, questionable humor included):

Second comment, I won't even get into it. God only knows what the hell you meant. I am Romanian and we tend to be a very sarcastic bunch - especially the Southerners.

You posted those at about 2:45 AM, local time (if you are, indeed, a Scot). That's 4:45 AM my time.

I am a lifelong sufferer of insomnia. You, madam, you are mad wae it, as they say in Glasgow.

Don't drink and post, seriously. It makes for a very #sorry hangover show.

And with this, I am done with you. All of you, in that corner. You showed me more than enough. You know there is substance to that Anon, despite the lack of a picture - hence the collective freakout.

From barf bag to pity party. Who knew?

[Later edit:] re-reading the sixth comment, I think she wants to imply it was the 'other child' - I was literally blind with sleep when I first saw it. Well, there is no evidence of whatever she is trying to explain (has she contacted The Climber? between midnight and 2 AM, local time?). Also, a 5 year old child is not a toddler anymore: kids are considered toddlers up to 3, only. That boy, as we all know (and I am sorry we do), has dark hair - where is the resemblance Anon noticed?

Desperate, grasping at straws, lying through her teeth and mad wae it, all the way.

@pamalissou, thanks for bringing us a third mom's POV in your reblog.

[itgirlgyu]

fallen over, choi beomgyu.

🥥 ﹒ ! (＞人＜;)ᶻz ﹒★ beomgyu x fem!reader.

ꜝ ওফ্ফো  ! WC1072. ₍synopsis: during a sunny evening, whilst running away from your daily existential crisis you understand the importance of exercise. and,

sort of acquaint yourself with a charming fellow with kind of slippery fingers, and the prettiest face you've ever seen.

✫ this is dedicated to my best friend @itz-yerin i hope you like it baby!!!

"Don't mind me guys," you choked out despite trying your best to conceal the fact that your lungs were desperate for a steady source of air going in and out consistently, and letting you know that the lifestyle you had chosen for yourself all this while might be the case of being eaten alive if a zombie apocalypse did end up occurring in the near future.

"Go ahead," you were too focused on making sure your nostrils weren't flaring more than usual than speaking in coherent sentences, "Go!"

Your best friend, albeit initially confused but upon noticing and analysing the hunched over cycle posture and the sweat dripping off your body like a waterfall, had taken her befuddled, and slightly concerned boyfriend for a lap, or four while found a nearby bench to sit down to recollect your breath and think over how to expand your lifespan by a few more years.

Battling the urge to completely abandon the cycle onto the street, you lugged it with you as you crawled to the section with the grass, and collapsed beside the fallen torture device. The exhaustion gradually evaporates off your body like dewdrops under the scorching gaze of sunshine in the mornings of june, as a stealthy serenity sneaks in amidst the chaos of your surroundings, transforming all the clamour into a state of halcyon white noise.

You closed your eyes, allowing the gentle breeze to graze your heated cheeks, adorning you with the fragrances of all the florals it has been carrying. The sunshine played hide and seek with the clouds, drawing an array of inane shapes on your face like a toddler, tickling you with its sparkling mischief.

It felt good; it felt fine, despite the concerns that had kept you awake all night. It felt like you were alive in the moment and that's all that mattered. The blades of grass prickling your back, the June sun showering you with its rays and clouds coming to your aid. The warm gust of wind consoling you as well as the slight droplets of ice cold rain—ice cold rain?

You opened your eyes to uncover the mystery behind the whiplash of the capricious weather but to further push into a frenzy of perplexity, the clear blue yonder mocked you as it boasted an expanse devoid of any dark clouds—but the fog cleared up, and the reason behind the sudden downpour was someone's passionate participation in a topic you couldn't quite over hear. The sugary droplet falling off your cheek, and onto the green blades, only to be replaced with a few more similar ones when the conversation took another swift swerve increasing the ferocity of the words coming out of your assailant's mouth—so fast you were even a lip reader would have to suffer.

A few droplets were already a hassle as they dried off on your cheeks leaving a very sticky residue, but you had to seriously draw the line when the entirety of the popsicle slipped from his fingers and hit you right on your face. Before you could even process the piece of ice that was stuck on your face, you heard the man gasp, followed by another gasp from the person he was arguing with, both of them rushing over to make sure you don't sue—except the other one ran to another direction for some reason.

You should be sitting up by now and giving them an earful and but for some reasons, you couldn't—one of the major one being the fact the twenty minutes you actually enjoyed cycling, and the other half an hour you forced yourself to continue transforming itself into a bothersome back pain, and secondly it was quite amusing your main assailant's slightly long shag hair moving up and down from this angle. Removing the popsicle from your cheek, you tried to sit yourself up.

"Are you okay?!" You attacker crouched down to meet you at your current height. His concerned laced eyes analysed your face before fumbling with his jeans pocket to get his handkerchief out, offering it to you, "I am so sorry for this."

You touched your cheek before accepting the handkerchief to dab it onto your cheek softly putting on a show for him—except water and a good few seconds of rubbing the syrupy consistency wasn't leaving your face. You knew that, he knew that, but the world depends on such unspoken courtesies.

"It's alright." You assured him meekly, focusing more of your energy to get yourself off the ground so you don't seem like a brat—despite it taking a little more that what it takes other people, as in like seconds, you were at least able to get your ass off the ground for a few inches when you noticed the concerned expression glazing over his pretty face, "I was cycling for a few hours so my legs just gave out," you lied.

He nodded and extended his hands for you to take, "I am Beomgyu," He introduced himself, and you gave him your name in return.

"I am sorry for what happened! I promise I will buy you a good cleanser of your-" Before the beautiful man, whose name you had just learned to be Beomgyu, could finish his benevolent promise to take care of any arising skin issues you may face, his friend whom you had deemed to have abandoned his friend in need, came running as though he had something important to announce—conveniently missing the laid out bike on the ground and as a result crashing into Beomgyu's back who in a sick game of domino had fallen over you before he could even process what had hit him.

You cursed under your breath when you clearly heard a few of your spine break, with the added weight of two men laid out on top of you earning the questionable looks from every passerby. You couldn't even complain if you wanted to after all it was your own fault leaving it laid out instead of just properly putting it away on standing.

"I went to go get wet tissue for the blunder you created," The top part of the stack, the runaway friend, groaned while wiggling his way out of the giant dog pile.

"And you couldn't announce it, Taehyun?!" The one directly on top of your stomach croaked before turning to look at you, "I'll pick up a tab of your chiropractor I promise."

COPYRIGHTS RESERVED TO ITGIRLGYU 23'. FEEDBACKS AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED! PERM' TAGLIST: @impureperhaps @full-sunnies @ox1-lovesick @jisungsdaydreamer @wonioml @1921choi @forever-in-the-sky2 @gyuletters

[the-grey-hunt]

Minovember week 2: Pets, Home, Favorite Trick

another 2/3 fill (well, maybe 3/3 if you stretch) with Jowd's favorite trick of "quick, change the subject before this conversation goes somewhere I'd have to be too honest about"

“Hey, Dad,” Kamila said. “Is Sissel ever going to grow up?”

Only an expert could have seen the faint choke in Jowd’s throat before he answered, tone entirely casual. “Why, do you need a better pet?”

“What? No!! Sissel’s the best!”

Jowd laughed at Kamila’s genuine outrage. “I’m only teasing you, cannonball.” It had been a nice evening so far, and he didn’t want to dim the mood with a discussion of why, exactly, Sissel was never going to grow older. Cabanela had come over, and Lynne had stayed after her babysitting time was over to keep playing with Kamila, and they were all gathered companionably in the living room on various rugs and comfortable furniture.

Sissel was snoozing away on his cat tree. Jowd didn’t try to get his attention; he wasn’t sure whether or not Sissel was really present. The cat’s ghostly presence tended to fade a little when he tried to sleep, in the same way it did when he took the phone to visit his other friends.

“But is he really ‘the best’?” Jowd teased some more, when Kamila pouted at him. “I seem to remember when you were little you always wanted a pony.”

“That’s not fair,” Kamila complained, slumping back to lie on the floor where she’d started. “That was before we had Sissel, and we don’t have anywhere to put a pony anyway, so I couldn’t have one even if I did want to.”

“So if we had a stable in our backyard, you’d accept a pony for Christmas?” Alma cut in, amused. 

“Mommm...” Kamila tickled Alma’s stocking foot in revenge, making Alma yelp and yank her legs up, out of Kamila’s reach. 

“Say you could have any pet in the world,” Jowd said. “Imagine you’ll automatically have everything you need to take care of it. What would you pick?”

Kamila looked sideways, put her face in the carpet, and mumbled, “A pony.” Alma shoved a pillow over Cabanela’s face to muffle his laughter for him. Lynne had no such help, and when she snorted, Kamila leaped to her feet again to put her hands on her hips and glare down at Lynne. “Well, what would you pick?”

“A parrot,” Lynne said immediately.

Kamila wrinkled her nose. “Why a parrot? They’re so noisy.”

“That’s the point, you can talk to them!” Lynne sat up, too, abandoning the schematics she and Kamila had been lying on the floor to draw together. Jowd never had any idea what they were designing, but luckily most of the plans were too elaborate to exist in real life. “And they live for a long time so they’ll be your companions forever.”

“That’s ooonly fun until you have to will your pet to someone when you’re too old to take care of ‘em,” Cabanela pointed out.

“Oh, you’re just sore from that case last month.”

Jowd knew Lynne and Cabanela had both been assigned to take care of some kind of animal hoarding situation. Why Cabanela was there for the SIU was anyone’s guess—Jowd wasn’t in the SIU, so he hadn’t asked. 

“What about you?” Kamila asked Cabanela. “If you could have any pet, what would it be?”

“Mmmm...invisible tiger,” Cabanela said, leaning back in thought. “No hairs sheddin’ all over my coat, aaand, it’ll go off and hunt by itself for its own food.”

“That’s not a real pet!”

“Suuure it is, baby, it’s an animal.”

Kamila stomped her foot. “It’s not a pet you could really have. Tigers aren’t invisible, and you’re not taking this seriously!”

“All right, all riiight. I’m taking it seriously.” Cabanela steepled his hands and fixed his gaze on the ceiling, to all appearances deep in thought. Jowd resisted the urge to sneak and tickle his foot. “...Penguin. Let me finish!” when Kamila opened her mouth. “Like one of those adopt-a-star programs where it's yours but it lives off somewhere else. It can live in the zoo where there are people who’ll take care of it properly, but I’ll come by and pet it and make sure it’s havin’ fun.”

“Because it’s black and white?” Alma asked in playful suspicion. “You’re forgetting the part where you’ll have the magical ability to take care of it perfectly well.”

“And what would yooou choose, baby?”

“That’s easy,” Alma said. “A cat.”

“Mrrup!” Sissel was there, his flame burning back into evidence like a radiator warmth on the back of Jowd’s neck, and he announced his approval. He jumped down to patter across the room, letting Kamila stroke a hand over his back on the way, and climbed into Alma’s lap to settle back down with a purr.

“See, I told you,” said Kamila. “Sissel’s the best.”

“I can’t argue with that.” And Jowd never would.

[amedamacherry]

Father of Dragons

Yes, I'm a freak.

But those three dragons are just so perfect for this!!! 😭

I used this picture of a statue (?) of GoT's Daenerys with her baby dragons as a template (and the background, obviously) to change it into Seto Kaiba with his BEWDs.

Source: https://images.app.goo.gl/367DYTck6HeDiYdUA

More insights and details under the cut ⬇️

This is still part of my exploring journey to work out the possibilities and chances of digital art.

Seto having three dragons just as Daenerys was just so fitting! I wanted to tackle that motive a little bit more directly and came up with this idea.

At first I considered drawing Seto in his trademark duelling-attire, since I needed something white and long to flow down to the floor as Danys gown does. But I thought it wouldn't fit well into the fantasy-middleage-style background. And seriously, guys! I still don't get the physique of that Kaiba-Coat!! 😂 There is no way I would be able to get that one right! It wouldn't be as appealing in a sitting position, would it? That thing is made to be worn standing, with a bad-ass gush of wind sending it flying! Sooooo, that's why I chose this white outfit. I think it fits into the scene pretty well, as it seems a little more prince-lilke... 😇

Drawing without outlines was all new for me. I wanted my drawing to look a tiny little bit more "realistic" (fail... 😂) so it would fit into the background better.

Please see in full resolution for all the details 💖

But don't look TOO closely. There are several mistakes, too! 😂

Here's some close-ups:

As great as this was, I still kinda crave using my watercolors. Digital painting has so many practical and cool aspects, but there are downsides as well. (For example, the constant urge to make everything perfect, get tinyest details right and and redo things over and over again!) Hope that I'll be able to come back with traditional paintings soon... ☺️

P.S.: I am NEVER going to draw those dragons again! What a f****ing pain!! 😭

[shy-nightmare]

🎄MERRY CHRISTMAS!🎄

Merry Christmas to you all and have a frightful, spooky Creepmas to all my fellow Goths and horror fans out there! 🎄🖤🎄

The Twisted Toon Gang would also love to wish you all a Merry Creepmas and a Happy New Year! ✨🖤✨

Please ignore the blood on the present Echo got for you 🤣

I would also like to take a moment to thank each and every one of you for all you have done for me 🥰.

@weaselnerd My fellow weasel nerd, you are a gem. I will never forget the first time we talked that night right after I posted that Baked Meme drawing, and I will never forget the times we shared, talking and having fun sharing each other's topics of interest. Thank you so much for everything you've done; talking to me, enjoying my story, and for being one of my new friends. And thank you so much for drawing the twins and letting me draw Pepper and June! 🥰 It was so much fun! And I cannot get over how adorable your art style is! Seriously, you'll make a fortune in making and selling plushies! 💲

@lastofautumn You are like the autumn season 🍂; gentle as the wistful breeze, soft as a baby pumpkin, and you have a heart as colorful as the fiery leaves and a soul as warm as the precious remnants of sunlight before winter descends. You truly made my day that morning when I woke up to find you following me, and you continue to make my days enjoying my chapters, my art, and my moon photos. Thank you for being your wonderful, kind self and thank you so much for drawing the twins too! I also love the outfits you gave them; they're KILLING it! 🤩😍🤩

One more thing. Before you ask, YES, feel free to draw Adam and Echo if you'd like! Just please resist the urge to squish Echo's face off 🤣

@marinerainbow If Autumn is like the autumn season, then you are like a rainbow 🌈; your mind is an opalescent beam of bright hues and shades of color, your kindness is as dazzling as the stars kissing the night sky I spend many praising the moon, and you are an absolute joy and just like everyone I've met, you fill my bruised, longing heart with so much happiness and delight🎇! You were one of the first people I've met online when I accidentally thought Kingston was your OC when he's actually Slash's. I'm still very sorry for that 😅 Anyway, thank you for everything you've done too; you thought my Zombie Roo thoughts were cool, you loved the colorful tarantula photos Twyla and I sent you, and you granted me permission to tag you in my story. You really don't have to make me anything for Christmas, I'm just happy you think my ideas are fun! And thank you so much for letting me draw Shiny and write about Poppy! They are one of my favorite couples of all time! 😍😍😍

I've looked up to you, Slash, and Kit for almost a year now, and you guys inspired me to come out of my shell and expand my growth on Tumblr, so I would also like to take a moment to thank you three for taking the time to chat with me and enjoy my silly rambles! 🤣

@slashingdisneypasta A.K.A. @wicked1will0sparkles You are like Moissanite; your kindness and creativity sparkle brighter than all the diamonds in the world and if you were a gemstone, I would describe you as Moissanite 💎 I still read your stories too, even the weasel and slasher smut 🥵! And thank you for enjoying my Baked Bean Meme drawing, that still cracks me up 😂 Like Rainbows, you've shown me nothing but kindness when I decided to join the WFRR/Toon Patrol community, and I will never forget how generous and honest you were when I asked you if you'd be interested in reading my chapters. It's cool if you haven't had the time yet! I get that you too are very busy, and I hope you rejoice in your accomplishments! I believe in you! 👍

@just-kit-ink You are like all the majestic cats in the world; beautiful, ferocious, and truly unique! 🐱🐯🐱 I admire your humility and kindness towards Toons; this world needs to learn humility and kindness, especially from people like you! You also possess your own element of wisdom and knowledge regarding Toons, their cartoons, and how their struggles greatly relate to humanity's and how people need to understand that no matter what species they are or what they seem to represent, Toons deserve love and respect ❤

Thank you so much for sharing your kind thoughts with me the first time we met, and the twins and I hope you and Kitty enjoy the holidays! 🥰

@imaginarytoon1 and @its-metal-mistress I owe you two all the credit for being the sole inspiration of my story, "The Toonz Twins: Toontown Sleuths". I've read a lot of your stories even before I joined Tumblr, and you both share the same love and respect for Toons as we all do! 😊 While I was writing my chapters, I would look back and think of how many times I read your stories and note my favorite parts, and smile as I feel the same immense joy I felt the first time I read them. Thanks to you two, the twins and their story were born. I owe the birth of my story to you both, and I wish you all the luck and success you find in your lives! 😁

@trashogram You truly are wise beyond your years 📚. You speak nothing but the truth about things in life even I haven't thought of, and I'd always say "Damn, how could I have missed that?", and you too have opened my eyes about the weasels' characteristics. You are special, wonderful, and talented in your own unique ways, and you have a lot of kindness and humanity in your heart that is never tarnished, no matter what you have faced in the past ❤. You are also brave and strong, and you show the determination we need to fight back 💪

Thank you so much for being so kind to me too, and thank you for your thoughts on my story as well! 🥰

@basiabd I know we don't talk much, but I have a lot to thank you for too! You've done so much for me than you think when you too liked my Baked Bean Meme drawing, and I really hope it made you laugh! 🤣 You are also very creative and very kind; I love Kipper and Picket as much as I love Pepper, and to be honest, I wanna take them all home with me. *yoinks them and hides them in my jacket* THEY'RE MINE NOW, BYEEEEEEEEE!!! 🏃‍♀️

And thank you again for tagging me about the news two days ago. I really appreciate it! 👍

@los-angeles-toon-patrol You boys know why I'm tagging you again, so deal with it 💅. And yes, I am going to thank you all again, no ifs ands or buts. Thank you guys so, so much for liking my content! Like for real, I didn't think that ANYONE, not even the OG Toon Patrol blog would not only like my art, but also follow me the day after I got 100 likes! 🥰 I know you said you're not the sentimental types, but it really means so much to me you guys think I'm cool enough to follow!😁

Also, Greasy, may I ask why you're disguising yourself as an ornament right above Twyla? 🤨

Thank you all so unbelievably much for all you have done these last four months for me. When I first joined Tumblr, I thought all I was going to do was post amateur moon photography and read some of my favorite stories now that I have access to reading them. But as time went on, I stumbled across the WFRR/Toon Patrol community and read your stories as well, I started to remember how I too would enjoy the movie and draw the weasels. And I continued to do so while writing my own stories and chapters for the rest of the year until this August of 2024, I decided to come out of my comfort shell and start posting my art and stories.

I did not think anyone would like my posts or even notice I exist, but you all have proved me wrong. You have all given me so much; friendship, guidance, solace, and above all hope. You give me so much hope to keep going, to keep sharing my art and stories, and hope that there are other people who love my work and accept me for who I am. This year has been tough for all of us, and I may not be a seer, but I do see life and beauty in each and every one of you and I hope you all see that.

I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! 🎄

Love,

Shy-Nightmare 🌙

P.S. I'm going to post Chapter Eight at 11:00 A.M. on New Year's Day and I'm gonna open my ask button on that day ❤💚❤

[chil-aglia]

𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐞 |ROTTMNT| (Leo X Male OC)

𝐀𝐥 𝐁𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤

I didn’t have time or the energy to add Adriaen into the picture above, but you guys are free to make a drawing for this chapter and I can add it for this chapter's picture.

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

Adriaen wished this was a dream, but here he was, standing beside the others who were all dressed up in strange clothing, representing different music genres. 

In front of him was Splinter, singing his heart out that reminded Adriaen of Italian opera.

Huh, he’s actually good at singing.

The others however don’t share Adriaen’s impressiveness, as they groan and shake their heads.

“No!”

“Oh, not - not good.”

“Agh.”

“That belongs in a sewer.”

Adriaen sighed at the four brothers and their harshness towards Splinter, who finished his performance and kneels down on his knees. “Oh, please, my sons. Let me be in your band!” He begs his sons, but Raph denied him, his voice in a smooth deep tone.

“No, thanks. We can’t groove to, uh—this whole situation, Big Daddy.”

Adriaen crossed his arms, blinking owlishly at Raphael’s whole…façade. “Uh, you hit your head? Why you talkin’ like that?” Splinter had to ask, tilting his head to the side with hands on his hips.

“If you want to be soul, you gotta live soul.” Raph explains, changing his voice from normal to deep and smooth. Adriaen lightly let out an airy sigh, he forgot that one of Raph’s favourite music genres was soul. “But if we need an overbearing manager who robs us blind, we’ll give you a call, m’kay?” Leo smirks, whipping his hair (white wig) to the side dramatically. 

Right, and Leo likes glam rock…that whole outfit is just…yeah no.

“Okay, fine. I’ll just start another family and join their band.” Splinter grumpily stomps away, Adriaen watching him leave before looking to the others.

”You guys are seriously doing this?” He uttered, eyeing them with a deadpan stare, Donnie had told everyone that he got them this singing gig over at Albearto Land, he didn’t exactly specify the details, only that him and the others had to get dressed up. They all couldn’t come up with a singular band costume, so they went with individual outfits of their preferred music genres.

“Alright babies, let’s boogie down. Our adoring public awaits. Albearto land ain’t gonna grand open itself.” Raph defined, whereas Leo hums in agreement before gazing his attention to Donnie. 

“How did we get this sweet gig again?”

“Well, I may or may not have intercepted a little email address to a certain Justin B yeah comma that one dot com.”

Leo smirks before clearing his throat and dusting off imaginary dirty from his costume. “Hey, I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but our music is so new, it’s like it’s from outer space.” He proclaims, warning a groan and roll of the eyes from Adriaen.

“Yeah, our electro/soul/rap/glam rock is too good to quantify.” Donnie glorifies, having Mikey nod in eagerness, “Once we leave this lair, our music is gonna change everything.” He promises to himself, hyping up him and his brothers.

“Let’s harmonize for good luck. Yaowww~”

“~Wooaaaooow!~”

“Mmm, drop!”

“Untz-untz-untz-untz”

Adriaen couldn’t help but cringe, his head slightly lowering down into his shell. It felt like his ears were bleeding. To put it blunt, the four brothers “harmonised singing” was objectively terrible.

“Nailed it!”

Leo chuckled and strolled towards Adriaen, wrapping one arm around the black bandana turtle, “You sure you don’t wanna join our band? You can be, uh…pop! Yeah, pop, I’m sure we can quickly find a costume for you.” Leo tried to propose the idea of Adriaen joining them, only to earn a light but strong whack upside the head from the latter.

”Yeah, no. I’m fine with just watching from the sidelines.”

Mikey then came over and nudged Adriaen from the other side. “You sure? We all know that you can sing! Why not show off your vocals baby!” Mikey urges, but once again he was denied when Adriaen placed a hand on Mikey’s face and gently pushed him aside.

”That’s absolutely not going to happen.”

Leo grins at him, “Ah, right. You have stage fright, is that it?” He acknowledged, earning a huff from his crush who crossed his arms.

”I’m not. I’m just not interested in joining your….band.”

Before Leo could continue to persuade Adriaen on joining, Raph cuts them off by stepping in between them.

“Albeartoland, prepare to be blown away.”

Donnie ushered everyone into the turtle tank, each turtle taking their respective seats before driving off to Albearto Land. Honestly Adriaen wasn’t even keen on tagging along but he knew that someone had to keep tabs on these boys, so it may as well be him.

The four brothers continued to talk about their gig tonight, much to the boredom of Adriaen, who decided to block them out, putting on headphones and listening to his music, sighing and leaning back into his chair, closing his eyes for a moment of peace.

What Mikey had said to him earlier, somewhat stuck with him. 

Me? Good at singing? Please, the only time I even sung was if I was in the shower.

And of course, Leo adding fuel to the fire, claiming that Adriaen had a case of stage fright, somewhat ticked the latter off. He wasn’t scared. No. At least he didn’t think he was. Truth is, he had no idea. He never performed in anyone, and when given a chance he’d find some excuse to not do it.

Ugh, stop thinking about it. Just a few hours at Albearto Land and I can finally go home, eat some dinner, maybe some late-night training and then sleep.

He was brought out of his thoughts when Leo tapped his shoulder, Adriaen blinking and looking up at him. He hadn’t noticed the turtle tank had stopped moving until this very minute.

He slipped off his headphones, placing them on the dashboard of the turtle tank as Leo gestured to the open door. “We’re here. You coming?” He inquired, his usual smirk gracing his features.

”Yeah, yeah. Let’s get this over with.” 

With that he and Leo leave the turtle tank and made their way to the centre stage that stood on the pier. Managing to avoid citizens who were enjoying their time with loved ones and friends, the turtles, excluding Adriaen of course, were prepping for their concert.

Leo took a sneak peek outside before humming and commenting, a bit anxious. “Okay, look, I’m excited for the gig but this place is crawling with Albeartos.” He worries, but none of the others shared his concerns.

“So?”

“Last time we met one, things didn’t go so well, remember?” Leo recalls, deadpanning at Donatello who shrugs his shoulders.

“I do not.”

Adriaen raised his non-existent brows. He was leaning against a wooden pillar, scrolling through his phone to pass time before he puts his device away and casted a perplexed expression towards the self-proclaimed scientist. “You turned a cuddly animatronic bear into a psychotic robot bent on destroying us.” He reminded, as Leo nods in acknowledgement.

”Got April fired? Mmm? Nothing? Mm?”

Donnie stared at the two, placing a hand under his chin. “That does not sound like me, no.” He fibs, he obviously did remember but just didn’t want to admit his failed attempt at fixing the animatronic.

Adriaen opens his mouth to reply but paused when the fearful screams of people outside caught his attention. “Can you hear that? This crowd is wild for us.” Mikey endorsed on the screams, mistaking it for screams of eagerness and cheer.

“We are so good, we don’t even need to play to make people go crazy, baby.” Raph added, his voice still doing the deep and smooth tone to it. Adriaen made his way over to the curtain, about to peer outside to take a look at what was happening. “Yeah, I don’t think those are screams of joy—“ He starts but was immediately cut off when the curtains automatically opened up.

“Hello Albeartol—“

Raph sees the Albeartos attacking everyone and switches back to his normal voice and yelps in shock. “Ah!” He yelps, the four (not including Mikey who had his backed turned) watch in utter horror, Albeartoland is under attack and there are many small fires everywhere.

“Oop, there it is! Our first blood-curdling shrieks of love!” Mikey squeals, unaware of the situation at hand, Adriaen reached over and turned Mikey around so that he can actually see what was going on.

“Those bots are ruining our gig!” Leo alerted, while Donnie side eyed his brother, pointing out the obviously weakly. “As well as harassing hundreds and hundreds of people.” He muttered, to which Leo scoffed.

“Which is ruining our gig!”

Adriaen felt like sighing in annoyance but refrained from doing so to focus on the task at hand. Upon hearing Raphael instructing everyone to fight, they all jump into action.

Adriaen runs around, taking out his mystic kama’s and throwing them around, slicing at any animatronics coming his way. He caught his kama’s once they returned back to his palms, before he gazed to the side to see a little girl running away to hide behind some barrels in terror after some pretzels like ninja stars were thrown at her.

The girl shakes in terror, before she gasped when the animatronic found her behind the barrels. Adriaen narrowed his eyes and ran over, immediately standing in front of the little girl just in time to deflect the attack from the Albearto animatronic.

”Out of my way!” The bot threatens, pushing down on the kama blades, Adriaen grunts and gazed towards the shocked little girl, “Get out of here!” He orders, which seemed to have snapped the girl out of her dazed state and run off quickly to safety.

“It’s one thing to trap innocent people in a park of doom!” Leo’s voice echoed over, the bot and Adriaen turning their attention to see Leo charging forward and swinging his electric guitar, hitting the bot in the stomach.

“Yah! It’s another to ruin our first gig!”

The robot groans and goes flying, crashing into a hammer game. Leo smirks in pride before offering a hand to Adriaen who had jumped back to dodge the swinging from Leo earlier and collapsed onto his rear end.

”You okay?”

”Yeah, thanks for the save.” 

Adriaen smiled lightly and grabbed Leo’s hand, being pulled up to stand on his own two feet. The two turtles silently stare at the other, Adriaen didn’t know why but the more he stared at the blue masked mutant in front of him the more he could feel the corner of his lip nudging upward.

Leo felt the same. Except he knew what he was feeling the more he longingly gazed at Adriaen.

“Bonjour!”

They both were snapped out of their trance and jumped back in time when Mikey’s kusari-fundō wraps around Albear and yanks him away with a yelp.

“Fling-a-bunga!”

The Albearto bot is thrown into a food stand, collapsing as Leo and Adriaen stare in bewilderment. Mikey joining their side.

Adriaen looks around and finds Donnie and Raph finishing off their battles. On instinct, the turtles meet up in the middle, having defeated their respective Albearto’s.

“Alright! We beat those Beartos!”

“Yes, but we lost our loving fans.” Mikey pouted, pointing at the crowd of terrified humans who flee the pier. “How are they fans if they haven’t even heard you play before?” Adriaen questioned, only for Donnie to narrow his eyes and point over at the control tower.

“Hey. Uh, what’s that vaguely familiar guy doing?”

The boys look to see Albearto, the main animatronic that held a grudge against the turtles, climbing the tower before stopping at the panel.

“You can't stop me from freeing my chums! No one can!”

He thrusts his hand into server panel, “Let’s spice up these meatballs!” He evilly laughs, hijacking the tower’s signal to give consciousness to all the other animatronics at once. 

That can’t be good.

The lit antenna on the hats of each Albearto turns from green to red. The Turtles look around, surrounded by the advancing robots, with anxiousness.

“These animatronics stereotypes are ruining our gig!” Donnie groans, while the laughter of Albearto could be heard from a distance. All the animatronics look down at the turtles and start marching, to which the boys scream and run, climbing on top of a hot dog stand, with Leo whacking the animatronics back with his guitar.

“This gig stinks! Why did we even start a band in the first place?” Mikey huffs out, eyes narrowed. “I asked that, and you guys just said because you were all bored.” Adriaen responded, but Leo waved his finger in denial.

“Uh, no. It was because we wanted to change the world and bring people joy with our eclectic sound.”

Raph hums before grinning at an idea he had. “And is there any reason why that shouldn’t work for animatronic robots?” He asks to which Donnie was the first to speak up.

“No. No, I cannot think of one.”

Oh great.

Adriaen watched as the brothers jump off the hotdog stand and land on the stage. Adriaen decided to stay where he was, using his kama’s to swipe at the animatronics who tried to reach him.

Raph’s deep soulful voice echoed into the microphone as he addresses the Albeartos. “Listen up, y'all. We dedicate this groove to all you beautiful bear-bots out there. Hit it.” He intrusts to Leo who whipped out his guitar and began playing notes. “All right Beartos, time to get your circuits jammed!” Mikey added into the mic, with Donatello adding an electronic beat on his portable keyboard.

Adriaen stared at the group, eyes wide as he listens to the boys.

Wow…they’re so…so…

Leo is slamming his guitar on the stage, Mikey is upside down beat boxing, Raph is completely off key with his voice and Donnie was just slapping his keyboard, playing random notes. They’re making a cacophony. The noise is so terrible that a couple Albeartos’ heads explode.

…bad.

Adriaen once again shuddered at the ear bleeding noise, his head somewhat retracting into his shell. If he was an animatronic there was no doubt his own head would explode.

He could barely even hear what the boys were saying but no doubt they believed that whatever it was they were doing was something amazing and sounded good. Adriaen peeked out from his hide away and saw all of the animatronics weep and shut themselves down by pulling their wires out.

Okay that’s horrific. But understandable. 

He then saw how the main Albearto jumps into a bumper car, placing his hands over his ears. “Oh, It’s so awful! I wanna say something dramatic and villainy, but my little bitty ears can’t take any more of this! You accused turtles have bested—no, worsted me yet again! Agh!” He wailed, screaming before driving away.

After that the boy’s fortunately stopped their nonsense of noises, proud of their accomplishment.

“Guys, we did it.”

“We nailed our first gig.”

“We are the Mad Dogs!”

“Goodnight, Albearto land.”

Adriaen makes his way over, his ears still ringing a bit as he looks at the four with dismay. “Never play another gig again. For my own sanity.” He warns them, watching how they didn’t seem to understand but shrugged it off.

“Hungry?”

“Pizza?”

“Albearto’s?”

“Garantie!”

Adriaen’s eye twitched as he slumps his shoulders and started making his way back to the turtle tank, “I’m going home.” He informs the squad, who quickly chase after him, all whining to him about how they wanted to stay out and get some food.

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A/N: I APOLOGISE FOR ANY GRAMMAR MISTAKES THAT WERE MADE, I TYPE REALLY FAST AND OFTEN DON'T SEE THEM UNTIL I ACTUALLY PUBLISH THE CHAPTER.  

I was going to make Adriaen do a little singing scene, but I was just too tired to try.

First Chapter here

Next Chapter here

[recentadultburnout]

Info for writer in Thai series fandom: Pet name & tone indicator sound

Some words to call your lover

Sweet and polite

คุณ-khun or เธอ-tur with ฉัน-chan, เรา-rao or ผม-phom(offically this one is for men, but it did get used by women) are words that can be used with people who are not your lovers but are considered to be quite sweet to call your lover that. I already mentioned it in Chapter 4. Chan and tur are very popular choices for song lyrics.

ที่รัก-thirak straight up call a person "someone you love". Rak is love, so if we want it literally, it would be beloved or something along those lines. I never saw anyone actually use it seriously before. Just a parody of something, or like I do, to tease a friend. Or, if we count, I think I've heard a mom call her child "mom's thirak" before. We could add สุด-sud in the front, sudthirak, make it mean "someone you love most."

แฟน-faen Boyfriend/girlfriend but non-binary. If used as a pronoun, then it usually comes with those Thai sounds khrap/ka at the end. You probably need to draw the word out for good measure too. Its sound is the same as how the word fan in "fan club" is pronounced in Thai, so there are a lot of fan club or faen khrap puns/jokes used with actor shipping situations.

คนดี-kondee Khon is a unit of human in Thai, and dee is good. เด็กดี-dekdee Dek is a child, and dee is the same as dee in Khondee. I feel like both Khondee and Dekdee have a bit of a patronizing feeling. But not always in a bad way, though. Is that a thing? Like, if you used those words with someone sincere, you probably felt the urge to take care of them at least a little bit. You probably feel like they are a precious, cute little thing. Something like that The fact that Im 100% sure parents used dekdee with their children might factor into it. As for Kondee, I'm about 90% sure.

Dek means kid, but we use it quite loosely, so twenty-somethings get called Dek all the time, and if it were by an elderly person, then the Dek in question might as well be a mother of two.

พ่อ แม่-por and mae As in father and mother. Usually, it starts when a couple becomes parents. A fur baby will do too for some.

Insulting words as a pet name

เด๋อ-der clumsy, foolish, silly, awkward, stupid, dull, dump_ Those things mix together, but like, in a soft version. Usually used with something add to the front, such as ไอ้-Ai, เด็ก-dek, or some Thai's sound for tone indicator(?) to the back, or both.

อ้วน-uuan fat, chubby—อ้วน can actually be a parent-given nickname too. I know some women around my mom's age range whose nickname is that. Personally, if it says it in a particular way, I find it really cute.

เหนียง-niang double chin

เถิก-terk go bald,the description of a hair line that starts to recede.

ลุง-lung Uncle (the one that is older than the father) aka old man. Usually used by a noticeable younger person. Not that they actually date someone older than their dad, or do they?👀

เด็กโง่-dekngo Stupid child, but like, an endearingly stupid, childish person.

ดื้อ-due _Not obeying, refuse to comply_ often used to describe a child. I saw ดื้อ  get translated to stubbon a lot, but personally, I find that not quite fitting (not that I have other words in mind). It might just be a me thing, though.

Probably a full-on PDA couple, act cute to each other 24/7

เล็ก-lek Small,tiny

ใหญ่-yai Big,giant

This two are a pair. Sometime it will have something added to it, ตัว-tua which means self/person/body, for exemple.

Animal + small or pi/nong/por(dad)/mae(mom) + animal Something like, cat, bear, pig, dog

Ex:Pi Muu(pig)/Nong Miao(cute alternative way to call cat)/Miao lek(small)/Por Mee(bear)

บี๋-bie Short from baby

Repeating a syllable of a nick name two times for a lovey-dovey pet name is also a thing.

ไอ้ต้าว-ai tao Tao is a meaningless sound that was derived from a word that was a prefix "เจ้า-Jao." It is used to express that the speaker thinks the person being mentioned is cute/childlike. They most likely appear with a strangely sweet voice. Sometimes used for friendly mocking of someone for being childlike.

Eng sub-cute dimples = Ai tao dimples

หนู-nhu Nhu is something that is used with children, but it also can be for a lover. Can be innocent or quite sinful depending on the context. (This one is already mentioned in Chapter 4 too)

เค้า Kao and ตัวเอง Tua-eng are a pair. Kao is for calling yourself, and Tuaeng is for calling your lover. What is of interest is that Kao typically refers to the third person, and Tuaeng refers to "oneself." It kind of gets perceived as something silly that people in love do. There are some words that are born from distorted "tuaeng" that you can use for a lover too, such as using only the first word "tua", shortening the "tua" sound to make it sound like 'ta-eng, or combining the two sounds to make it sound like "teng". The "Kao" might be replaced by other words such as Rao, and it might help lower the silliness, or not? Lately, I have seen some traders (usually women small business owners) call their customers Tuaeng to make them feel closer to them. Not Kao, tho. I have yet to see any shopkeeper use Kao for "I.".

Kind of a little roleplay, but not really?

ป๋า-pa Dad as in father or 💰Daddy💰 as in sugar daddy.

An overly respectful way to call someone or use a title that the receiver doesn't actually own is also something I see and think is pretty cute.

Legal prefix

เด็กหญิง-dek ying 

abbreviation - ด.ญ.

For those who were assigned female at birth under the age of 15

Translate to - none

เด็กชาย-dek chai

abbreviation - ด.ช.

For those who were assigned male at birth under the age of 15

Translate to - none

นาย-nai

abbreviation - none

For those who were assigned male at birth, from age 15 onward

Translate to - Mr.

นาง-nang

abbreviation - none

For those who were assigned female at birth and marriage (optional since 2008),

Translate to - Mrs.

นางสาว-nang sao

abbreviation - น.ส.

For those who were assigned female at birth, from age 15 onward

Translate to - Ms.

Some words/phrase that relevent to love life.

เพื่อนคู่คิด มิตรคู่ใจ-phuea khukhit mit khuchai This is a phrase that describes a marriage partner as a friend ( phuea = friend) who will help you think ( khit), a trusting ally (mit ), and your best friend who you can rely on. I find it to be very romantic.

คู่ชีวิต-khu chivit life partner

คนรู้ใจ-khon ru jai person who knows your heart

ศีลเสมอ-syn samoe (like the name of a character from Cutie Pie)

ศีล Syn = precept

เสมอ samoe = same,equal

"Syn samoe" is a figure of speech that is probably roughly equivalent to "birds of a feather flock together." It is a concept that in order for one to be able to associate with others with ease of mind, one needs to hold the same moral code and values. If a person only holds on to one of the precepts, not killing, they wouldn't be suited to be with someone who also does not steal, not only as a lover but also as a close friend or someone close in general. And also the reversal, which is that if you can be close with someone, then you must be on the same level as that person, good or bad.

คนคุย - khon kui Person (you) talking to If A is Khon Kui of B, then they are getting to know each other with romantic intentions, but nothing is serious yet.

กิ่งทองใบหยก - king thong bai yok - jade leaf gold branch A very suitable match, used for those who are about to get married.

ผีเน่าโลงผุ - phi nao long phu - rotten ghost, decayed coffin When a couple is a very suitable match, but it's because they both are bad

ทองแผ่นเดียวกัน - thong phaen diao kan - the same gold sheet To become one piece of gold is to be connected by marriage. Ex: These two families are going to become the same piece of gold soon = someone from each of their families is going to marry the other.

ข้าวใหม่ปลามัน - fresh rice, creamy(?) fish A word to call a newlywed couple. Anything new is good, so in a period of newlywed bliss, everything will be good in your eyes.

ถ่านไฟเก่า-old coal Old flame, ex-lover who still might get back together

โซ่ทอง-gold chain A child is parents' gold chain that will link parents' hearts together forever. Basiclly, it is a concept that by having a child, the couple will be more committed to each other. Kind of scary if you ask me.

จีบ-jeeb _woo, flirt, spark, spoon, court, bind around_ I saw this translate to flirting most of the time, but while flirting is not serious, จีบ can be.

หยอด-yort is to put or pour it little by little in a narrow place; in some contexts, it means to drop in sweet words when you talk to someone, aka flirt.

อ้อน-oon is to plead, to implore, to cajole, to wheedle, to whimper. 

กัดก้อนเกลือ-kat kon kluea-to bite on a cube of salt Is to be poor. usually mean when your financial situation is likely to be better than it is if not for your choice of partner.

ป๋า pa - เสี่ย sia - เด็ก dek pa/ dek sia When these words are used together, pa or sia is an (usually) older, wealthy (this one is a must) man, and dek, which translate directly to child or young, is a (usually) younger person who got financial benefit from being in this relationship. Pa or Sia is a sugar daddy, and Dek is a sugar baby, basically. 

คบ-kob Is mostly used to mean dating, but it can also mean "associate" or "friend with", and it has been used for a variety of ambiguous speaking scene in drama and novels.

ชง-chong-brew It's kind of like creating an opportunity for someone else to say a pick-up line. Say things in order to push your friend toward the one you think your friend will like (whether the assumption is correct or not). Say a pick-up line or flirt with someone for the other person. GMM actors do it to other shipping pairs all the time. I find it quite funny, lol.

เพื่อน=friend But it can also mean accompany if you say it in some way. You could say that you want someone to go somewhere with you as เพื่อน and that would mean that you want them to accompany you, not that they are your friend exclusively. You can say it to anyone. friend, family member, lover, co-worker, etc.

Here Ayan say that he thanks Akk for นอนเป็นแฟน instead of นอนเป็นเพื่อน. 

นอน=sleep 

เป็น=as ,are, be, become, have, constitute, be able to 

แฟน=lover 

เพื่อน=friend

นอนเป็นเพื่อน=to go to bed with someone and keep them company

เพื่อน can also mean co-worker, school mate, 

slice-of-thai.com, thai-tones.com, [Learn Thai] Five Tones in Thai (Pronunciation Practice) <--Some of the links for the Thai 5-tone explanation.

I think it would help in the next part (and with the Thai language in general) if you could remember what tone is what.

The mid one, number 1, had no mark, and the other is as you can see in that orange band.

อา, อ่า, อ้า, อ๊า, and อ๋า is probably going to be the same when spelled in English (unless we make something up, like, อา=ah, อ่า=aah) but in Thai, you can see that the mark on top of them is different.

There are also a bunch of things that are relevant, like the way each type of Thai alphabet has its own base(?) tone in itself, making tone marking affect them differently. Ex: low consonant + dead syllable + short sound = rising tone (5) Even though it is written with no mark tone and so looks like it should probably be a mid tone (1), but we are not here for an actual Thai lesson, so you just need to remember that different tone is a thing and different tone = different mening.

Sounds that we use to indicate the tone of the sentence

****This topic isn't really an official and well-organized thing, plus my knowledge and ability to explain are quite limited, so maybe don't see it as a fact but something subjective?

If I put a check mark in the example column, it means it makes sense to put the sound in that row in the blank. Well, at least to me, it makes sense.

A sentence that has some polite words in it doesn't mean that it is in fact polite or that the speaker is being polite and proper. So while Khrap and Ka are polite, people still can and have used them to end a sentence that is so impolite you will get customers yelling for your manager to fire you for saying it.

Some of those sounds can also be paired with other too. For example, Na(4) and Si(2) can be paired with Ka(4) and Khrap(4), as well as a few others, and include each other.

Index

[puffles]

Finished Serious Weakness, I think it'll resonate with a certain type of horror fiend. Or autists mobbed by the horrors of ableist society and can stomach dark yaoi. Probably shouldnt read this post if you cant stomach dark

Not very funnee running commentary below

Could HRT Have Saved Trianon? No, But At Least He Will Have Smooth Delightful Baby Skin.

Attacked by Ableism: Is it worse than having Autism Sangwoo abusing you?

The aquarium scene reminds me of the Adam Raki movie where they have the annoying autism caricature and a woman trying to fix the guy but in the end it doesn't work out. Hair-pulling shit

Ok this was funny as fuck

Sometimes I want to grab Trianon and shake him wondering why he can't be as functioning as me (this is untrue u can never function in Society™️)

Homoero-autism is the new cool fangled thing. Out of the two self published school shooting stories, this definitely is better. Mostly because it wasn't written by a teenager

A SERIOUS weakness even!!! Hahahahahah!!!!

AHAKNSEN GIRLYPOP ASKING FOR HELP IN A COMPETITIBE SHOOTER GAME 😨😭

I want to wiggle Insul around because he's such a desperate needy pathetic little bugger

I always craved like an evil autism x evil autism hannibal but a lot of the fanfics were too overly dramatic about the nature of killing (and too many references to classics that I don't get the beauty of) so I very much prefer the destruction urge Insul has

G*MER DESTROYED!!!!!!! We live in a society

Honestly Insul is so fucking funny but I am shaking my head seriously because i cannot stan this problematic fudanshi

Oh that's a really good depiction of a traumatic experience. I don't have a singular traumapoint so I can't compare how realistic it is, but it does execute the visceral fear and dissociation through text really well, down to the structure.

I will someday draw parallels to every single media on the serious weaknesscore recs in my private discord message groups, but today I am too tired to recall all of them. I have read all of them though. I think the closest yaoi manga to the weird caretaker shit would be this one where it involved a guy with seizures taking advantage of another guy because of "guilt" but it turns out the caretaker was killing people and then cue regular goreing of the seizureman and all. It's called Feeding Lamb by Masumi Nishin

I liked the story 😃 I mean I like all of Porpentine works for the most part but there's aspects I really connected to with the whole conformity stuff and mentally wishing to laserbeam people who dont get it.

I like the f/f version because I want sick twisted f/f that the people always speak of but never fucking exists. I can piss better than Tri my peehole shoots at forces that mimics a penis at a urinal

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

I nEvEr GeT aSk GaMe StUfF

✨🦋🌿🎀💝💥💎💌

Geee, alright already! 🤣🤣🤣

✨What's a fic you've posted you wish you could breathe life into again and have people talking about it? (or simply a fic you wish got more credit)

Okay, first things first, I'm pretty satisfied with how all of my fics have been perceived so far, so I can't really complain. 

That being said: Someone who cares is doing significantly less good than Hic sunt dracones, statistics-wise. It is my own emotional support fic and incredibly close to my heart, so I really am delighted about every positive comment I get about it. 

🦋what are you most insecure about when you post a fic?

Erm, everything? Can I say everything? 🤣

I'm literally a nervous wreck after posting, anxiously hitting F5 and waiting for feedback, mind in a constant loop of self-doubt.

What if my characterization is off?

What if the premise sucks?

What if my readers don't like the direction I'm taking the story? 

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!! 

🌿how does creating make you feel?

So many things!!! 

For one thing, it scratches the brain itch. I’ve always had to create things, as far back as I remember. When I was a kid, my parents could stick me in a corner with some paper and scissors and crayons and glue and wouldn’t hear from me for hours. 

Even during the 15 years that I didn’t write, I always had to be doing something creative. Knitting, painting, drawing, photographing, you name it. It’s an urge that I need to fulfill and I get crabby if I can’t. 

Seeing the end results makes me feel insanely proud and accomplished. It may not be perfect, but I made that! I sunk my teeth into it and saw it through and made this wonderful thing that I love. 

🎀give yourself a compliment about your own writing

How dare you make me say nice things about myself?! 

Okay … I guess my writing does something to other people that makes them want to create their own stuff. People have repeatedly told me that reading my fics kickstarted their own imagination into creating stories or art of their own. And every time that happens, I get so incredibly happy because that is like a god-tier compliment right there! That somebody found my writing so engaging that it made their brain spin off on a tangent and they created something out of it! 

💝what is a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

Dragons! Dragons dragons dragons dragoooooons!!!! 

The feedback I am getting for this fic just won’t stop blowing my mind, seriously, and every time I think it’s done, you guys hit me in right in the feels again with your gorgeous comments and rec lists mentions and fucking FANART! I am incredibly happy and humbled and awed that people are loving it so much! 

💥find your least kudos'd fic - say something wonderful about it.

That would be Someone like you, which is a little bonus story to Someone who cares. It's a purely self-indulgent little one-shot featuring married Steddie and a baby. This universe is my emotional support AU and I loved visiting the boys again. 💕

💎why is writing important to you?

Wow, where to start? 

Because it's incredibly fun and allows me to completely immerse myself in the story I'm creating. Because I get to be self-indulgent and spoil myself and make the story exactly like I want it to be. 

And because I have met so many amazing, creative, lovely ppl through it over the past few months, who bring me joy and make me smile every single day.

I honestly don't know how I could ever go without it for so long! 

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

Okay, so I'm still firmly stuck on the demon!Eddie brainworm and fully planning on turning it into a chaptered fic. I'm still figuring out a lot of the specifics, but I've already got some nice twists and details planned. There'll be demon besties Eddie and Chrissy, a nice side of Buckingham, lots of smutty goodness, Dustin running a mystery YouTube channel and so much more, it will be glorious! 

[legends-of-time]

The Journey of Living at Downton

Chapter 49: August 1925

Masterlist

TW: depictions and discussions of suicide. In no way am I an expert in this matter. I tried to write it the best I could.

——

Emma quietly hums as she rocks and pats the baby in her arms after the early morning feed. Her son gurgles up at Emma as she cradles him in her arms. Emma beams at him, unable to take her eyes off him, eager to watch every action of the month-old baby.

Thankfully Patrick Owen Branson's birth had gone smoothly. After recovering from the shock of labour starting, Tom had quickly snapped into action and called for help to assist Emma up the stairs from the servant area. Thomas had swiftly appeared and the two of them got Emma up the stairs and into the car that still sat outside. After that, the birth happened quickly with Emma having the urge to push soon after they arrived at the Hospital.

Sybbie had turned 5 just over a few weeks later and happily carried around her Auntie Emma and Uncle Tom's new baby with her father anxiously following her, worried about her dropping him. Ivy has taken the role of older sister very seriously when it comes to Patrick while Michael has very little interest in his little sibling as he can't play with him so he happily runs after Teo, Robert's new puppy from Violet.

Mary is still down after what had happened at the races and with Henry. Despite her insistence that she is fine, Emma can see that she has withdrawn slightly and is not laughing as much though holding baby Patrick does bring out warm smiles from her.

Edith is also feeling a mixture of emotions. She had quietly confessed to Emma that Bertie had proposed when they had been up in London but she has not said yes yet as she hasn't confessed to him who Marigold really is. Emma hopes she'll tell him soon as she really doesn't want another Mary and Matthew situation when Matthew proposed the first time.

Rosamund has also come to stay, apparently because of a cold though Emma has her suspicions that she's hear because of Edith. Not that Emma would complain, she likes Rosamund and Edith is quite close with her aunt so it only makes sense she would have her support.

Not everyone is down in the dumps. Mr Molesley had done well in his exam and has been offered a teaching position at the local School where he'll be doing a couple of lessons a week. Whereas Mrs Patmore's new house in Houghton-Le-Skerne, a little to the north of Downton, on the border with County Durham, has already received its first guests in its function as a bed and breakfast.

——

"A house of ill repute." Emma splutters, trying not to laugh but horrendously failing.

Mary sniggers. "That's what Anna said. Of course we all feel sorry for her."

The two look at each other, trying to keep a straight face before they both splutter with laughter again as they cross the Great Hall to enter the Drawing room.

Mary had told her what Anna had told her. Sargent Willis had come round (again) to inform Mrs Patmore that her first guest had not been as respectable as she first thought. A Mr Ian McKidd and a Mrs Dorris had decided to use Mrs Patmore's bed and breakfast as a little hideaway as they ran from Mrs Dorrit's husband who's suing Mr. McKidd for damages related to adultery leading to Mrs Patmore's bed and breakfast gaining the label of a site of a house of ill repute.

Emma sniggers out a laugh as she recalls Anna's hilarious description of a shocked Mrs Patmore. Oh dear, of all the people it should happen to, it had to be the naïve and innocent cook.

Emma stops Mary at the door to the Drawing room. "Now, I know you can't help yourself, but we need to be sombre for Edith's sake, alright?"

Bertie's cousin, Peter Pelham, 6th Marquess of Hexham, had died from malaria while travelling in Tangiers late last month. This only just puts another level of strain on Bertie's proposal to Edith no doubt.

Mary rolls her eyes and huffs, "Who cares? He probably won't have a job now, my romance might not be the only one to come to an untimely end."

"Exactly what I mean, keep your gleefulness to yourself." Emma retorts as they enter the room.

——

They all have assembled ahead of dinner with the addition of Isobel. The only one missing is Edith. The mood is rather subdued.

"Poor Mr Pelham. First that terrible day at the race track, and then to hear his cousin's died." Cora says.

"It does seem very hard." Isobel agrees.

Edith walks in. Robert and Billy rise to stand next to Tom who already stands next to the settee that Emma sits on along with Cora and Mary.

"Did you get hold of him?" Emma asks her, concerned.

"Yes. He's coming tomorrow, on the first leg of his trip to Tangiers. I've asked him here." Edith replies as she moves to stand in front of them all.

"Good." Cora agrees.

"How is he?" Billy asks, concerned.

"Sad." Edith sighs. "He loved his cousin, and it was all so quick. The trouble is they've already buried him. Bertie's not sure what to do."

"Well, that's ordinary in hot countries. It won't mean any disrespect." Isobel reassures her.

"No. But should they leave him there?"

"Surely that decision is down to the new Marquess, not to Bertie?" Mary asks, her tone isn't kind, more irritated.

"Well, that's the thing. He is the new Marquess. Bertie."

There's an astonished silence after Edith's announcement as they take in the news. Emma watches in concern as Mary's face morphs from smugness to annoyed disbelief.

"Bertie Pelham is now the Marquess of Hexham?" Robert asks in a tone of utter disbelief though not out of unkindness, more shock.

"Yes."

"Nonsense. He's having you on. He'd have told you if he was the heir." Mary remarks, almost ready to laugh at the whole situation.

But Edith remains serious and cool. "He did tell me. But his cousin was in his thirties, and they all knew the girl he was going to marry."

"But that's absurd! If Bertie's a marquess, then Edith–"

"Edith would outrank us all. Yes. That's right." Robert says, interrupting Mary and starting to laugh at the whole situation.

Rosamund and Isobel join in his laugh, but Cora and Mary, like Emma, don't, though she knows Cora's reasons are more like Emma's than Mary's.

"Was he a close relation?" Emma cuts in, still surprised as well as concerned. If Edith was unsure about accepting Bertie because of Marigold, what'll this do to the situation?

"Second cousin, once removed. Nobody thought it was possible he would ever inherit. Least of all Bertie." Edith replies.

"Well, he seemed like a nice young man to me." Isobel remarks.

"And getting nicer by the minute." Rosamund quips mischievously causing her and Isobel to let out another giggle. They're having such fun over this.

"With a real love of Brancaster." Tom adds.

"Golly gum drops! What a turn-up!" Robert says gleefully.

The door opens to emit Mr Carson.

Cora takes the cue. "That's dinner." She rises to her feet. "If we're not too distracted to eat."

Isobel, Rosamund, Billy, Robert and Edith walk out first. Cora, Emma, Tom and Mary hang back.

"So we'll all bow and curtsy to Edith. You'll enjoy that, Mary." Tom quips at the disgruntled sister.

"Hardly." Mary scoffs dismissively. "And if Bertie is Lord Hexham, which I still don't believe, he won't want to marry her now."

"Careful, or people will think you're jealous, dear. We don't want that." Cora says gravely as they all file out past Mr Carson.

Emma can't but feel this'll end badly.

——

They're at their after-dinner coffee in the drawing room. Only Robert has gone to bed early again. Cora, Rosamund, Isobel and Edith sit chatting together, laughing. Emma overhears mention of poor Mrs Patmore's situation but she is absorbed in her own private conversation with Tom, Billy and Mary.

"I had a call from Henry earlier." Tom remarks.

Mary looks startled but asks softly, "Henry? Why didn't you say?"

"He's saying it now." Emma says.

"How is he?" Mary asks anxiously.

"Mourning Charlie Rogers. Missing you." Tom answers.

"You're not to ask him to come here." Mary warns him sternly.

"Suppose he just turns up?" Billy remarks, trying and failing to be subtle about it. Emma narrows her eyes at her friend.

"Don't encourage him, Billy. None of you should. I mean it. We'd be wretched long term." Mary declares.

"And you're not wretched now?" Billy asks.

Mary sighs and moves away.

"She's right about one thing, you can't encourage him." Emma says to the two men next to her.

"But you see how sad she's been." Tom argues. "I think Henry needs to come."

"I don't know..."

"Oh, come on Emma." Billy scoffs. "She just needs to see him, to realise maybe she shouldn't have ended things with him."

Emma grimaces. "I just know it'll end badly."

"How?" Her husband questions.

"This is Mary we're talking about. She doesn't like her hand being forced and asking Henry to come will rile her up further than she is already with the Bertie situation." Emma explains her thinking. "She needs to come round to it in her own time."

"You don't know that." Billy says.

Emma rather thinks she does.

——

The next morning, Emma sits on one of the red settees across from Rosamund, who's flicking through a magazine, while Robert is writing at his desk, cradling Patrick in her arms as he has a quiet snooze.

They had received good news the day before, Daisy passed every paper she had taken with high marks. Emma remembers the little girl (one she had always found quite irritating) and is amazed to see her progress.

Cora comes in. "Where is everybody?"

"Mary and Tom are agenting, Billy's at work and Edith's gone to meet Bertie's train." Emma replies as Cora moves to sit next to her, reaching over to softly stroke Patrick's cheek. "I've just come back from being outside with the children. Apparently there was some important bug excavation needing to be done in the grounds."

This causes the adults to all chuckle.

Rosamund is the first to sober up. "Are we going to talk about it? Are we really going to sit by and let this young man's family and future be put at risk from a scandal we are hiding from him?"

"I don't think she has to tell everybody, but I agree. She must tell him. Then it's his choice." Cora answers.

"I agree." Emma declares. "This is the sort of thing you really should not keep secret from your spouse."

"Isn't it up to Edith?" Robert argues.

"From what I've learnt, we really shouldn't leave it up to your daughters." Emma retorts.

Robert looks affronted at this and goes to reply but Rosamund cuts him off, "Robert is scared of Edith loosing a marriage worthy of the name because after Tony Gillingham had gone, he thought none of his daughters would make a marriage worthy of the name. Now there's a chance of one, and he can't bring himself to give it up!"

"You haven't got children. You don't understand these things." Robert retorts dismissively.

"No. I haven't had children, Robert, as you so kindly remind me, but I hope I do have a sense of decency." Rosamund cries angrily.

"How long are you planning to stay? Your cold must have cleared by now." Robert counters. Christ, the two are like children.

"Don't fight. Nothing's going to get better by you two falling out." Cora says in a sharp whisper as the door to the Library opens emitting Edith and Bertie, who walk in through the Small Library. The others rise to greet them.

Cora approaches them first. "Hello, Mr Pelham. I mean..."

"I'm going to stay Mr Pelham until the service." Bertie says, saving her the embarrassment. "But I wish you'd call me Bertie, anyway."

"Of course, hello Bertie." Emma greets warmly. "I don't believe you've met Patrick?"

"Er no." He accepts the baby, rocking him slightly and looking softly down at Patrick, who's just woken, staring at the unknown person in wonder.

"What sort of service will it be?" Robert asks.

"Not a funeral. I've decided not to disturb him." Bertie says, sounding almost choked up. Emma smiles softly as her son reaches and clasps Bertie's finger in a tight grip as if to comfort him. "I'll fetch his things and settle his debts and have a service at home to say goodbye."

"That sounds like a very good plan." Cora says.

"I hope you'll allow me to come." Edith says.

"I want you to come." Bertie says simultaneously warm and desperate.

"You remember my sister?" Robert indicates to Rosamund.

Emma takes Patrick from him so he can greet Edith's aunt properly.

Bertie walks towards the woman. "Of course. Lady Rosamund."

"This must be a strange and unsettling time for you." Rosamund says sympathetically.

"I'll say. My mother's cock-a-hoop," Bertie remarks, "but she doesn't appreciate that I was devoted to Cousin Peter."

"I'm sure she does." Cora assures him.

"Not really. Most people didn't get the point of him. He was... so delicate. But he was as kind to me as any man has ever been."

"Then how pleased he'd be to know that you're his heir." Emma says softly.

"That's so nice of you." Bertie's voice cracks as he begins crying in earnest. Edith puts a comforting hand on his arm. "Goodness. I'm afraid you've made me blub."

"Let me take you upstairs to unpack. Luncheon's not for half an hour." Edith tells him. They walk past the others and out by the other door.

Rosamund, deeply moved, turns to Robert. "And that's the man you want to trick into marriage?"

Robert lets out a huff. "I'm going for a walk." He walks out the other way.

"I agree." Cora says. "But Robert thinks Edith's had so little luck in her life."

"He can't be serious!" Emma scoffs. "Doesn't he know that she'll never be happy with such a secret dangling over her?"

"Exactly. We all know she's making a mistake." Rosamund says.

——

Bertie is more together by the time they all sit down for luncheon, attended by Mr Carson, Thomas, Mr Molesley and Andy. Isobel has joined them and Mary and Tom have returned from their agenting while Billy is still at work though had called earlier to see how Bertie is to which Emma could only tell him that he's in a bad way over his cousin.

"What was it about Tangiers that your cousin enjoyed so much?" Isobel asks Bertie as he sits next to her.

"Who knows?" Bertie replies. "He used to talk of going down to the beach and watching the young fishermen bring in the nets. How the setting sun would make the scene magical until everything was suddenly plunged into darkness."

"Goodness. How... lyrical."

"He was lyrical. He was an artist. In his heart, anyway." Bertie says with a small soft smile.

Emma grins. "I like the sound of him."

"I don't think this family can boast much in the way of artists. Although we did have an aunt who was quite good at macramé." Robert quips. Everyone chuckles politely.

Mary, however, doesn't and speaks up, after having stared at Bertie the whole time with an odd look on her face that's been unnerving Emma, "So, are you here to settle things with Edith before you leave?"

This startles everyone. Everyone either gives shocked looks or frowns in Mary's direction for her being so indelicate. Emma is in the latter category.

"Mary, please." Cora reprimands, astonished.

This doesn't deter Bertie. "I hope so. I hope we can get things settled, but I mustn't jump the gun." He gives Edith a hopeful smile.

"So, Bertie, you mentioned your mother, but what other family do you have?" Emma asks, happy to deter the conversation.

"That's it. My father's dead, obviously, there are no siblings. It's just me and Mother." Bertie answers.

"You were joking when you said she was cock-a-hoop, but she must feel a certain pride." Cora says.

"I wasn't joking," Bertie dissuades, "but judge for yourselves when you meet her."

"You talk as if we should be scared of her." Tom remarks.

"She makes Mr Squeers look like Florence Nightingale." Bertie quips. Everyone chuckles a little awkwardly. Edith looks rather alarmed. Oh, dear.

——

Later in the day, they're all gathered in the Library for tea and a puppet show. Tom and Bertie sit behind the booth and operate the puppets, one of whom is a Punch character who is whacking another character, a Policeman, with a slapstick. Billy, Mary, Emma and Edith as well as Ivy, Michael, Sybbie, George and Marigold sit lined up on low stools in front of the booth to watch the show. Nanny Jean is in the background while the other Nanny, Margaret, is in the Nursery with Patrick as he naps. Robert, Cora and Rosamund are watching from the red settees.

"Take that! And that!" Tom as Punch, in a weird, high-pitched voice cries.

"Ow!" Bertie cries as the Policeman.

"Punch is terribly fierce. I don't think he's a good model for marriage in later life." Mary remarks.

"Or relations with the law." Robert says with a chuckle.

"Take that! And that! And that!" Tom says as Punch, still dealing out blows.

"Ouch, you rascal!" Bertie's Policeman retorts.

"And that's the way to do it!" Tom makes Punch bow, and the show is over. Everyone claps and laughs.

"Very good!" Billy compliments.

"Whoo, Daddy!" Ivy cheers.

Emma laughs. To think that she herself had watched a couple of Punch and Judy shows when she was a child, over 80 years in the future, and here her children are, in the past, watching a similar show. Funny how life works and things last.

Emma then hears Mr Carson clear his throat. "Er, Mr Talbot."

Wait what?

Emma turns around just as Mary does, both in surprise and alarm. There Henry Talbot is, trailing after the butler as they both come through the Small Library.

Cora rises to greet their guest. "Hello, Mr Talbot. Mary never told me you were coming."

"I didn't know he was." Comes Mary's reply.

Neither did Emma. She gives a sharp look to both Tom and Billy, who both avoid her gaze.

Henry stays near the exit, unsure of his welcome. Mary hasn't got up from her seat. "Well, the thing is, I was driving down from Durham and I suddenly realised I'd almost be passing the gates."

How convenient...

"What were you doing in Durham?" Rosamund asks, still seated and Robert walks up to Henry.

"Oh, I was doing various car things."

"We haven't seen you since that awful day at Brooklands. I hope you're coping with it all." Robert says.

"Well, one doesn't have much choice."

Mary approaches Tom and Billy with Emma trailing after her. "Did you two know about this?" She hisses in an accusing undertone.

"I might have said that if he was coming from Durham, then he'd be driving quite close." Tom says casually.

"Don't think I'm amused! I dislike my hand being forced." Mary retorts.

"Which is exactly what I told them." Emma quips.

"No one's forcing anything." Billy argues.

"Now you're here, I hope you'll stay the night at least." Cora says to Henry, drawing their attention back to the wider conversation.

"Mary?" Henry prompts hopefully.

"Perhaps Mr Talbot is in a hurry to get home?" Mary replies coolly.

"No, no I'm not."

"It's settled then. Carson, will you please tell Mrs Hughes? And ask someone to unpack for Mr Talbot." Cora instructs. Mr Carson sketches a bow and leaves.

Emma in the meantime helps Billy and Edith as they direct the children to Nanny. It's clearly best that they evacuate the area.

"I'm afraid you've missed tea." Robert says.

"Oh, don't worry about that." Henry dismisses.

"I won't." Mary retorts, forcing a cold smile. Mary sits down on one of the red settees, pretending to be interested in a magazine.

While Henry approaches Bertie, Emma turns to Tom. "Pretty sure you and Billy have allowed Henry to make a bad miscalculation." She says as she watches how Mary is still pretending to read her magazine, but she's so nervous and upset that she opens and closes her hands convulsively, which is something they rarely see.

"Don't say that." Tom murmurs.

——

Mary comes walking up the staircase, followed by Tom and Emma.

"This is so precisely not the way to win me over!" Mary snaps.

"Mary, will you just get off your high horse?" Tom retorts as they come to a stop on the landing.

Emma winces that. She'd made the executive decision not to say anything, not wanting Mary's anger to be misplaced towards her, Emma who hadn't done anything.

Mary turns back to him angrily. "Why are you interfering?"

"Because I love you and I want you to be happy."

"Well, you've got a bloody odd way of showing it!" Mary hisses.

"Well, I take it this is me you're fighting about?" Emma turns to see Henry catching up with them.

"Yes, it is. And you can dig yourself out. Because I've had enough." Emma huffs. "With all of you."

Mary scoffs as Emma and Tom walk away, leaving her and Henry alone.

"I told you this wouldn't work." Emma murmurs to her husband.

"You're not helping!" Tom huffs.

——

Robert stands chatting to Bertie near the fireplace in the Drawing room after dinner. "How are you getting to Tangiers? Is there a boat that sails direct?"

"Actually, I'm flying. For the first bit, anyway." Bertie tells him.

Emma perks up in interest at that from where she sits in one of the chairs next to them.

"What?" Robert exclaims incredulously.

Bertie chuckles. "I know. It does seem rather daring."

"And impressive." Emma grins. She knows travel by air in this time is still rather new compared to her time.

"I do not envy you." Rosamund comments from where she sits in an armchair opposite.

"I don't know. Now the commercial airlines are starting to operate, I dare say we'll all be flying hither and thither before too long." Robert remarks.

"I rather doubt that." Rosamund says with a laugh.

Emma watches this all amusedly. "Well, I do. It's quicker and more efficient. People will want that."

On the other side of the room, Billy and Mary are having a conversation of their own. It clearly doesn't end well as Mary's then marching to the door in a huff. Henry walks out after her. Emma watches after them, worried.

——

Emma is giving Patrick the morning feed in the Nursery the next morning. The children are out with the Nannies so Emma has the room to herself for a short while.

Emma is just burping him when the quiet is disrupted by Tom angrily storming in. "I can't believe her!"

Emma helps Patrick do one last belch before pleasing him back in his cot and turns to her husband, "Tom? What's happened?"

"It's Mary. She forced Edith to tell Bertie about Marigold and now he's stormed off." Tom explains, trying to calm down but still breathing heavily out of anger.

Emma's jaw drops. "What?! Why?!"

"Henry's gone. It's all my fault, I should've stopped them from announcing it."

"Announcing what?"

"Edith has said yes to Bertie." Tom explains.

Well, that explains it all.

Emma sighs, coming over to stroke his upper arms. "It's not your fault. This is Mary we're talking about. Edith is happy, she isn't, so she's decided to be horrible."

"I know but I knew, I knew she was suspicious of Marigold. And I invited Henry over. I should've handled it better." Tom grumbles.

Emma presses her lips together, knowing any comments right now will not be helpful.

——

It's gotten worse, Bertie has now asked to be taken to the station. At the front door, a car stands ready with Andy in attendance. Emma stands with Robert and Tom as they wait for Bertie to get in, but he's walked a little way off into the park with Edith.

Tom checks his wristwatch and sighs. "He'll miss his train."

"Let him miss it. He can catch the next one." Robert remarks. "What happened?"

"Apparently, Mary forced Edith to tell him about Marigold." Emma tells him.

"I wouldn't say forced." Tom argues.

Emma rolls her eyes. "It sounds like it to me."

"How did Mary find out?" Robert questions.

"Mary is not stupid." Tom replies.

"No. And she's not always kind, either. Was it really a mistake?"

"What difference does it make?"

They carry on watching Edith and Bertie. Emma wishes it was the opposite but she doesn't blame Bertie for being upset for not being told about Marigold. It isn't long before Bertie touches his hat and moves away, leaving Edith behind.

——

Mary sits in the Estate Agent's office, waiting for Tom to start their day's work. Emma walks in with a face like a thundercloud.

Mary frowns when she sees her. "Where's Tom?"

"Trying to clean up the mess you made, but don't worry, he's failed. Bertie has left for the train, and now Edith won't be the next Marchioness of Hexham." Emma replies hotly.

Mary shrugs calmly. "Well, that's not what I wanted."

Emma narrows her eyes and scoffs. "Isn't it?"

"I still can't believe she'd never told him. How was I to know that?" Mary responds, cool as a cucumber.

"Don't play the innocent with me." Emma warns her. "You should know better."

"I didn't mean it—"

"Don't lie!" Emma shouts at her. "Not to me! You can't stop ruining things! For Edith, for yourself! God, you're a literal child who sees their sibling has a shiny new toy. You'd pull in the sky if you could! Anything to make you feel less frightened and alone!"

"You saw Henry when he was here, high-handed, bullying, unapologetic. Am I expected to lower myself to his level and be grateful I'm allowed to do so? Tom and Billy brought him here. Why are you not yelling at them?" Mary retorts, no longer acting cool and working herself up into quite a passion now.

"Trust me, they've already had a telling off but only because they really should've known what you're like. I mean, just listen to yourself. 'Lower yourself to his level'. You're not a princess in The Prisoner of Zenda!" Emma cries in disbelief.

"I thought you of all people would understand me but you're just like the rest of them." Mary snaps.

"The amount of times I've stood by you, defended you but you've taken it too far!" Emma yells again. "You ruined Edith's life today! How many lives are you going to wreck just to smother your own misery?"

"I refuse to listen!" Mary says furiously, getting up from her chair.

She tries to leave but Emma doesn't move out of her way. Instead, she stares directly into Mary's eyes and calmly states, "You're a coward, Mary. Like all bullies, you're a coward." She marches out having hopefully given Mary a lot to think about.

——

"Christ, I can't– she– urggghhh!" Emma cries, unable to form proper sentences with how angry and frustrated she is. She paces her and Tom's room while her husband sits on the bench at the end of their bed.

"I'm glad you talked to her. I might've throttled her." Tom remarks.

"Don't put yourself down, I was quite close to it myself." Emma huffs. "What are we going to do?"

"I know a way we can sort this. At least partly." Tom tells her.

"How?"

"Violet."

Emma frowns. "Tom, she's somewhere in France. We have no way of contacting her."

"Well, actually. I do." Tom admits.

"Heh?"

He goes to the tallboy in the corner of their room, opens a drawer and pulls out a letter. "She wrote to me. I received it shortly after she'd gone."

He hands it to Emma and she takes it, reading it to see Violet genuinely had written to Tom, detailing where to contact her if need be. Emma grins.

"Why you're smiling?" Tom questions, slightly amused.

"It's funny. She clearly trusts you and to think how to her you were this odd foreigner to her once." Emma remarks.

"'Suppose. But we need to do this quickly." Tom says.

"The nannies usually take the children outside soon. What if we abscond ours and have a trip to the Village. What do you say Mr Branson?" Emma smirks at him.

Tom returns her smirk. "Why Mrs Branson, how clever you are."

——

Emma and Tom are walking through the Village, Emma walks next to Tom as he pushes along Patrick's pram with a letter in hand to drop off at the Post Office. Ivy and Michael are running about just ahead when Miss Baxter, who was rushing past, comes to a sudden stop.

The lady's maid is panting heavily with wide panicked eyes. "Mrs Branson, Emma, you need to come quickly."

"What's happened?" Emma questions, worried for the woman. Ivy and Michael have stopped up ahead, watching them curiously.

"It's Thomas."

That's all Emma needs to hear before her stomach drops to the centre of the Earth.

She looks to Tom, who nods. "Go."

Emma flashes him a thankful smile before turning and beginning to run back to the house with Miss Baxter.

"Mama?" She hears Ivy call.

Not wanting her daughter to panic, Emma smiles calmly over her shoulder, slowing slightly. "Mama just forgotten something sweetheart."

Ivy accepts this and begins tugging Michael along with her to carry on playing.

——

(A/N: This is the suicide part.)

Emma and Miss Baxter hurry through the empty downstairs passage, looking for Thomas. They look in the Servants' Hall, the Boot room – empty. Emma ignores all the odd looks they're getting from the other servants as she has only one thing in mind.

They move on to the stairs, barging past a surprised maid, Lucy, and enter the men's corridor. Andy is just exiting his room, pulling on his tailcoat, when they turn the corner.

"Does Mrs Hughes know you're on the men's side?" He says rather sternly to Miss Baxter before startling when seeing Emma. "Er, Mrs Branson—"

"Where is he?" Emma demands.

"Wha—"

"Mr Barrow. Where is he?"

"Er, he was going in for a bath."

Emma sees all colour leave Miss Baxter's face and she knows that her face has done the same thing.

"Oh, my God." Miss Baxter gasps. "Come with us!"

They rush past him, around a corner and to the door of the bathroom. Andy follows, alarmed.

"Hello!" Emma bangs on the door, Miss Baxter joins her. "Thomas! Are you in there?!" She tries the door handle, but the door is locked or bolted. She rattles it desperately. "Will you open this door?!"

"Get back!" Andy instructs.

Emma and Miss Baxter move back, the former has her hands in her hair, pulling in distress while the latter has her hands clapped to her mouth.

Andy aims a kick at the door, then another one. The second kick tears the bolt off the door frame, and the door bursts open. They rush in.

In the red-tiled room, Thomas has filled the bathtub with water and got into it, still wearing his undershirt and trousers. He's lying in it with his eyes closed, pale and lifeless. The water has a reddish tinge, and there's blood spatter on the sides of the tub, on his arms and on his chest.

"Oh, my God!" Andy gasps, horrified.

Emma goes into nursing mode, running towards him and surveying the damage before she starts tearing her underskirt into ribbons for makeshift bandages.

Miss Baxter turns to Andy. "Fetch Mrs Hughes. Send Anna for the doctor, but tell no one else what you've seen."

Andy runs out and Miss Baxter joins Emma by the bath.

——

Emma and Miss Baxter have lifted Thomas' arms out of the bathtub and bandaged his wrists as best they can with the materials they have and are now cleaning him up, softly dabbing his face and arms with wet towels. In the meantime, Thomas had moved his head slightly but very weakly, which is a relief to see.

Both of them look up in alarm when footsteps are heard and the door opens. But relax when they realise it's only Andy and Mrs Hughes.

Mrs Hughes stands in the doorway for a moment, shocked at the sight, but then recovers quickly, closing the door for privacy. "Anna's gone for Doctor Clarkson."

"Good, we've bandaged his arms for now but we need help in getting him out, changing him out of his wet clothes and get him into bed." Emma tells them.

"I hope he won't mind if we undress him." Miss Baxter says.

"He's past minding if we put him in a shy and threw coconuts." Mrs Hughes remarks. "Now, you two take his feet and Andy and I will take an arm each."

They move to do as she said. Mrs Hughes and Andy each take Thomas under one arm while Emma and Miss Baxter move to the end of the tub.

"Has anyone told Lord Grantham?" Emma asks.

"Mr Carson's seeing to that."

"Right. Here goes." Andy says.

They start pulling Thomas out of the tub. He opens his eyes a fraction and groans. Emma winces at that, her nurse façade falling slightly.

They pause before having a go again.

——

Thomas groans awake.

"Thomas? Thomas?" Emma calls worriedly. They'd been able to get Thomas into his room and change him before Dr Clarkson's arrival. The doctor had been able to treat him without needing to take him to Hospital.

Mr Carson had suggested the idea of telling everyone that Thomas is ill with influenza rather than what had happened. He doesn't want any more people than those who already do to know what happened. Emma agrees with it. As far as she is aware, suicide is a crime in England right now and will be until the latter half of the century. There's the worry that, because Thomas did not succeed, he risks being imprisoned or taken to the asylum. Though for Mr Carson, it's the additional huge scandal for the family.

Robert and Mr Carson have also oh so graciously allowed Thomas to stay for the time being, to take needing to find a job off his mind, which they should have done or something similar at least in the first place.

Emma watches from where she sits at the edge of the bed as Thomas slowly blinks his eyes open. He frowns when he sees Emma, looking slowly over Dr Clarkson, Miss Baxter and Mrs Hughes, who stand behind her before it dawns on him. He suddenly pales.

"I—" His mouth is dry so Emma brings water to his lips to which he takes a sip.

"Mr Barrow, I was able to stitch you up, though Mrs Branson provided superb aid prior to my arrival, so you will not need to go to Hospital." Dr Clarkson kindly but professionally tells him.

"Thank you, Dr Clarkson." Thomas mournfully replies, refusing to look up at anyone.

"And now you're awake and there's nothing else, I will leave you in the diligent care of Mrs Branson and your colleagues." Dr Clarkson adds.

"I'll take you to the door, Dr Clarkson." Mrs Hughes says. The two of them leave.

Miss Baxter lingers for a bit longer, flashing a small, pitying smile in Thomas' direction. "I glad to you're looking better." She says softly before leaving.

As soon as she's left, Thomas pulls a face. "I don't want her pity." Normally that would come out as a grumble but instead, he says it faintly almost like a ghost.

"She's cares for you so you're going to get it whether you like it or not." Emma quips softly.

"Why did you stop me?" He suddenly asks. He fiddles with his bandages to which Emma gently slaps his hands away.

"What? Other than the fact you're my friend and I don't want you to die?" Emma retorts, trying to keep it light.

"Well, you haven't been acting like my friend recently." Thomas retorts.

Emma's face drops. "Yeah, I know I haven't and I'm sorry but I'm my defence, you can be a real bastard sometimes."

"Yeah, I know." Thomas mumbles but this time there's a slight quirk at the corner of his mouth which isn't much but it's something.

(A/N: End of the main part of TW)

——

Emma continues to stay with him for the rest of the day before Miss Baxter takes over and Emma goes to join the others for dinner, at which she learns they'd also been informed of what had happened.

Edith isn't there and has actually gone up to London. After Emma had left Tom, Edith had asked him if he could drive with her to the Station so he could take the car back to Downton. Apparently, the kids had a lot of fun in the spontaneous car ride.

The next day is largely the same though Anna and Miss Baxter take turns in relieving Emma and helping to look after Thomas. At one point in the day, Mary brings both Ivy and George up to visit with oranges to make him feel better. He's still weak and pale but a tad better on what he was yesterday, physically anyway.

Come Friday, Emma sits in the Library with Tom on her break from looking after Thomas/just generally keeping him company. They're on their own as Rosamund, Cora and Robert are getting ready for their tea at Mrs Pamtore's B & B. Rosamund had suggested it, to make a little news story out of it to help with Mrs Patmore regaining the bookings she lost due to the place being deemed a 'house if ill repute'. Emma's glad that's being sorted at least.

Emma is startled out of her musings when Andy comes striding into the room.

Tom looks up from his newspaper. "Andy?"

"The Dowager called, Sir. She's returned to the Dowager House and is now making her way to Downton." He hurriedly informs them, a tad out of breath.

Both Emma and Tom's heads snap towards each other at a speed that really should've snapped their heads off.

"That was quick." Emma remarks. "You should go go to the door, Andy. Don't want her in a mood if there's no footman to greet her."

Andy nods and darts out of the room.

Violet's car comes up the drive to the house and halts at the front door. Andy comes out to meet it and opens the rear door for Violet to get out. Tom and Emma come hurrying out of the house to greet her.

"I can't believe you came!" Tom remarks in greeting.

"You made it sound so urgent." Violet retorts.

"Even so, we really appreciate it. Thank you." Emma says. They start moving towards the entrance together. "Was everything all right when you got home?"

"Well no, not really. Spratt has gone away." Violet complains, pulling them to a stop.

Okay, odd.

"Did you tell him you were coming back?" Tom questions.

"A good butler should not need to be told." Emma almost laughs at that but decides not to interrupt Violet as she continues with, "Now, where are they? My broken-hearted granddaughters?"

"It's just Mary. Edith's gone up to London. We didn't know when we wrote." Emma tells her as they continue walking towards the house.

"All the better." Violet says. "Oh, and after that's been sorted, I would rather like to meet Patrick."

Emma smiles at that. "Of course."

——

Thankfully, Mary is not mad at Tom or Emma for summoning Violet though in doing so has appears to have worked as Mary is much happier, ready to make peace with Edith as well as having sent a telegram to Henry to come as soon as he can today. If Mary wants him then Emma's happy for her.

By the time of his arrival, Billy has arrived home from work and stands anxiously with Emma, Tom and Mary in the Library as Henry walks in through the Small Library. The atmosphere is not exactly pleasantly relaxed here. Mary is extremely nervous, Henry looks confused and reserved, Tom is cautiously optimistic but not overly optimistic while Billy is reserved but hopeful. To be honest, Emma just feels exhausted and is just wishing for the sweet release of this being over.

"Well. That's it. We'll leave you to it." Tom announces.

Emma and Billy begin to follow him just as Tom moves to leave, but Henry's voice stops them.

"You don't have to go."

"Believe me, we do." Emma remarks.

"Exactly. We've been part of this courtship for quite long enough. It's for you to manage from here." Billy adds.

And they walk out and close the door behind them. Billy and Tom begin walking towards the stairs, crossing the Great Hall but Emma doesn't, slowing down her steps.

Billy's the one who catches what she's doing first. "Emma?"

"Wouldn't be weird for me to impatiently wait outside the door until I find out whether there'll be a wedding or not?" Emma tries to say it conversationally but instead, it's awkward and she's cringing.

The two men share a grin and Tom turns to her and says, "Weird but we won't stop you." And they both leave, chuckling.

Emma rolls her eyes and plonks herself on the closest chair by the door.

A short time later Mr Carson emerges from the door that leads to the servants' quarters at the corner of the Hall and moves to the door leading to the Library. He startles but recovers quite efficiently when he spots Emma.

"Mrs Branson?"

"Er, don't mind me, Mr Carson. You just get on with your work." Emma says, trying to not act like she's just been caught red-handed spying. Well, not spying but something close to that.

The butler looks at her baffled but does just that. Emma doesn't see what happens but she can tell he's startled at what he sees and then very quietly and discreetly moves back out of the room and closes the door again.

"I take it by you're expression it's good news?" Emma asks, grinning at the almost scandalised look on the man's face. She lets out a few quiet sniggers.

Just then, Mr Molesley arrives with tea on a tray.

Mr Carson outs up a hand to stop the footman when he reaches them. "Uh, give it a moment, Mr Molesley. Better give it a moment."

He gives Mr Molesley a very significant look, which Mr Molesley answers with a soundless "Ooooh!" when the penny drops.

To be honest this sends Emma from quietly sniggering to full-out laughter.

——

"What is it with men Mary is marrying making both you and Billy their best men?" Emma remarks as Tom shrugs on his mourning coat while Emma does his tie.

It's Saturday 22nd of August 1925 and it's the day Lady Mary Crawley and Mr Henry Talbot get married. Apparently, the two aren't hanging about. The last time he was here, Henry had brought a marriage licence nod conveniently, his uncle is a bishop which means they're able to marry at the earliest convenience which is this Saturday.

They're a little late getting ready and are moving at double the speed than they would've done if they hadn't gotten, er um, busy this morning.

Tom laughs. "It is strange that both of us will have been the best man at both if her weddings."

"Funnier things have happened," Emma remarks as she steps away from him and turns to her dresser to slip on her earrings and pull on her gloves. "Did you know Mr Carson had Henry have breakfast in bed so that there would be no chance of either Henry or Mary catching a glimpse of one another?"

"This is Mr Carson we're talking about. He wouldn't take any chances with Mary's happiness." Tom chuckles, as he places the flowers in his lapel and Emma hands him his hat.

Emma steps back to look at him but not before stroking his lapels to make sure there are no creases. "There. You're all set and now you really must go."

Tom flashes her a grin and gives her a quick peck before he leaves the room to meet with Henry and Billy and make their way to the Church.

——

Emma had arrived in time to watch Anna do Mary's hair and put the finishing touches to Mary's wedding dress along with Cora and Rosamund. It's an altogether less romantic, more modern affair than at her wedding with Matthew, but still very elegant, because come on, it's Mary.

The door opens. Edith comes in, still in her travelling clothes. She looks unsure and reserved.

"What? I don't believe it! Why didn't you say to expect you?" Cora exclaims in surprise as she, Rosamund and Emma all rise from their seats.

"Because I wasn't sure until I got on the train." Edith replies.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine. Can you not ask me that for the rest of the day?"

Mary turns to Emma, Cora and Rosamund. "Could you leave us for a moment?"

"Of course." Her mother says.

Emma, Cora, Rosamund and Anna move towards the door. Anna opens it for the ladies. Cora pauses at Edith's side to stroke her arm encouragingly.

Emma gives her a warm smile. "I'll see to the children."

"We'll wait for you downstairs." Rosamund adds before they all finally leave. Hopefully, there'll be no blood to mop up or a body to hide.

——

Thankfully neither is true and they all arrive at the Church in one piece. The wedding goes swimmingly and they all soon find themselves emerging from the Church after the newly married Mr Henry Talbot and Lady Mary Talbot to applause and people showering the newly married couple with flower petals. They pause to kiss, to more cheering, then move on.

There's a horse-drawn carriage that Mary and Henry take their seat in before it moves off towards the Abbey.

"Better than ours do you think?" Tom asks after they finish waving it off.

"Nah, no wedding will beat ours, I'm certain." She flashes him a warm loving grin to which he kisses her. They pull apart and Emma adds, "Now, only one more Crawley sister to sought out."

Tom sighs. "Hopefully that won't take long."

Emma looks over to see Edith standing in the churchyard, watching Ivy, Marigold, Michael, Sybbie and George with a loving look on her face. The children are running and laughing and playing tag around Sybil's large stone tomb.

Emma rather thinks it'll all turn out fine in the end. With any luck.

——

A/N: Can't believe I started this story just over two years ago and now I'm here with only one more TV episode to go and then it'll be the movies!!! Where does the time go?

Some facts that I thought might be useful:

Tallboy = tall cabinet

'Punch and Judy' is a traditional British puppet show played from a booth, featuring Mr. Punch and his wife Judy as the main characters. Punch is a clownish creature, a jester and a trickster and most of the comedy comes from the other characters falling victim to Punch's slapstick. Punch speaks in a trademark squawky voice, which is traditionally achieved by the performer speaking through a squazzle, but with less discerning audiences like here, any silly voice alteration will do.

Although suicide itself is no longer a criminal act, under section 2 of the Suicide Act 1961 it remains a criminal offence for a third party to assist or encourage another to commit suicide.

Please leave comments on how you're enjoying this story and what you think.