#since again I don’t think spice really works with this family

[quibbs126]

I want a Charcoal Cookie

I mean, you can have activated charcoal in food, like charcoal cheddar, black ice cream, other things I can’t find (without the internet telling me there was some sort of trend about putting it in food, I’m just looking for actual food with it). So I mean, it works if you need the Cookies to be made of something edible

Also, maybe with charcoal being burnt wood, they could have a connection to Millennial Tree Cookie? Like, they were once a part of his forest, or even a branch from his tree, that got burnt into charcoal and then turned into a Cookie? And maybe they hold resentment for it? I dunno, just a neat idea pertaining to it I had

And also I want to make a joke about them eating wood to like, keep their powers active, like they have fire powers and they need to eat wood to keep it burning. But also they just eat sticks. Like yes, they eat other food, but they will just chomp on a twig

Just a random thing

[prettyfastcars]

rumours about you | Mob!Lando

Summary: You’re not necessarily happy regarding the announcement your family just made – about how you would be marrying one of their allies’ sons in order to unite forces and what not. You had multiple issues with your family making major decisions about your life just like that, but the main one was that you disliked the one they chose for you to marry. Lando. So you decided to confront him, thinking the two of you would work together and find a way to call off the wedding. But Lando has other plans. 

Themes: arranged marriage, smut, explicit language, enemies-to-lovers-to-enemies ish, degrading kink, dom!lando, slightly bratty!reader

“I’ve been waiting for thirty minutes.” 

When you showed up to his house – or mansion rather – earlier, his butler told you to wait for him in his study room. The butler also said that Lando would be home soon. You were not very patient at the moment given the unsteadiness of your life, so waiting for half an hour was driving you insane. 

Had it not been for the multiple bookshelves to explore and inspect, you would’ve surely lost it. 

Lando paused briefly at the doorway upon hearing the sound of your voice. Then he walked into the room in that arrogant manner of his, that maddening smile on his face, and shut the door behind him. 

The bastard knew he looked good and he flaunted it always. Nice and muscular, that tailored, dark suit looked damn good on him. Little bit of facial hair, brown curls on his head and those damn pretty eyes. Not to mention those natural, extra long lashes that would make anyone jealous. 

He smirked when he caught you checking him out. “Apologies,” He said, “But your future husband is a very busy man, you might wanna get used to it.” 

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned against the large desk, watching said future husband as he walked straight toward the mini bar and began making drinks. You noticed he grabbed two glasses so at least he was polite. But you weren’t here to have drinks and chit chat. So you got straight to it. 

“I want you to call off the wedding.” You said. 

“This is the third time we’re having this conversation.” Lando sent you a look before turning back to focus on the drinks. “And I’m asking you again, why would I do that?” He asked.

You were quiet for a moment. You two had had this conversation twice already. And each time, Lando would just send you home without listening to what you had to say. 

“Because…” You trailed off, then tried again, “Because we would be miserable together. I mean,” You chuckled humorlessly, “Marrying to unite forces? Really?” You sounded disgusted, “That’s so old fashioned.” 

Lando finally walked away from his minibar with two drinks in his hands. He sipped on one and when he made it over to you, shamelessly letting his eyes roam all over your body before he handed you the other glass. You accepted it and took a sip as well. It was some kind of spiced whiskey, and you welcomed the burn. 

He shrugged, sliding one hand into his pocket. “I see no problem with it,” He said, looking you deep in the eyes with his bluish green ones. “It’s been happening for decades in both our families. It’s made us strong, powerful, and wealthy.” 

You closed your eyes and sighed, “Then go find someone else. I don’t want to marry you.” 

Truth is, you’d known Lando and his family since you were a kid. Dinner parties, galas, birthdays, family vacations, he was always around. And you disliked him even as a child. He was too loud, too popular. Then he got older and got hot, then slept around like it was his job. The rumours that circulated around about him were… not very pleasant. 

Lando raised an eyebrow at you. “Why not?” He teased. “I’m perfect.” 

You gave him a fake smile and said, “I would rather marry someone who is less of a manwhore.” 

He chuckled. “That just means I have more experience.” He stated, then leaned closer and whispered into your ear, “Experience that I can use to turn you into my perfect little wife. Both in and out of the bedroom.” 

You scoffed, “You’re disgusting.” 

“I’ve been called worse things, princess.” 

You rolled your eyes at him. “Look just… call it off.” 

He asked, “Why don’t you do it?” 

“You think I haven’t tried? They won’t listen to me. They say I’m just throwing another tantrum. Like I’m some kind of child.” You stated, finishing your drink and leaning against the desk again. Lando stepped closer, invading your personal space, looking at you like you were some kind of oddity. “What are you doing?” You hissed. 

He finished his drink and said, “Just thinking about how I’ll handle your tantrums in the future. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumours, I’m very good with brats.” 

You should’ve known this would be useless. So instead of arguing, you said to him, “If we ever get married, I will never let you put a finger on me. You hear me?” 

The asshole smiled like he was looking at a little puppy. “You’re cute when you try to stand your ground, princess.” He said in a lowered voice. “But we both know you’ll turn into a puddle the moment I touch you.” 

Then his hands were on you, holding you by the waist as he pulled you into him. Chests pressing together, you were speechless for a moment as you stared into his pretty eyes. He smelt so good too. 

Fuck. This wasn’t supposed to happen. 

Lando smirked, “What did you think you were doing, huh? Showing up at my house in a tiny little dress, asking me to call off the wedding, accusing me of being a whore too.” He chuckled. “You’re a mess, babygirl. Don’t you see it?” He asked. “A complete brat who needs some taming.” 

He also noticed the way you clenched your thighs together, like you were craving friction down there. 

“Don’t you see you need me?” His voice was softer now, and still condescending. He leaned in and whispered, his lips brushing against the side of your mouth as he did, “I can help. I can make you the most perfect wife for me. Obediently, polite,” He chuckled, “And dirty, but only for me. I’ll handle all your tantrums in private, and I’ll be so, so good to you.” 

You couldn’t help the soft whimper that escaped your mouth at the sound of his words. They should’ve offended you, they would’ve if it wasn’t for the wetness gathering in your flimsy underwear. 

He was so close, his lips just an inch away from your own. His scent was driving you insane. You knew whatever was gonna happen from now on would change everything. But you couldn’t stop, you didn’t want to. 

So when he brought his hand in between your legs and slid it up your dress, you let him. You let out a gasp when he cupped you down there, instinctively rubbing his fingers against your dripping wet folds. 

Lando scoffed, “See? Told you you’d turn into a puddle.” You whimpered as he lazily circled your clothed clit, smearing your wetness around. “Filthy, little brat.” He chuckled, then pushed your underwear to the side to touch you properly. You let out a loud moan and he smirked, pressing his lips against yours but not kissing you yet. 

“Please…” You begged. 

“Please what?” He scoffed again as he slid a finger inside you and felt you clenching hard around him. “Still want me to call off the wedding?” He teased, slowly pumping his finger in and out of you. “Answer me, what do you want? Hmm? You want to come like a good girl or do you want to be a haughty brat and cause a scene?” 

He stroked you so perfectly, so slowly that it made you lose your mind. “Please, Lando…” You gasped. 

He added another finger as he chuckled darkly. “Look at you,” He taunted, “Showing up here again and again, acting all tough and assertive. Thinking you can tell me what to do? Hmm? You think this is how it’s gonna work?” He pulled away a little to look at your pleading eyes. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll teach you everything. I’ll worship your entire fucking existence. I’ll fuck you until you forget your own name. And in return all you have to do is be a good girl, and eventually, my wife. Yeah?” 

You nodded a little too quickly. He laughed. 

“No more of this call off the wedding nonsense. You hear me?” 

You nodded again. 

“Good girl. See? You’re learning already.” He removed his hands from in between your legs and said, “Get naked, and bend over my desk.” 

As if under some kind of spell, you obeyed immediately. You took the dress off, then removed your underwear and dropped all your clothes into a little pile. You took one look at him and he pointed at the edge of the desk, so you did as he asked. 

As your cheek pressed against the cold surface of the polished wood, your hands laid palm down on each side of your head, you could hear him behind you as he took his suit jacket off and probably also rolled the sleeves of his button up shirt to his elbows. 

Then you felt his hands on you again, rubbing up and down your sides, your hips, your back as he pressed his clothed erection against you from behind. Another whimper escaped your mouth when you felt it. Warm, and hard, rubbing against your wetness. 

He bent down and whispered into your ear, his chest pressing lightly against your back, “You see how nice it feels when you’re obedient, baby?” He trailed his fingers down your spine and in between your legs again. 

You squirmed under him, against the desk. Breathing heavily as he took his time and touched you like he was in no rush. You whined as he touched a sensitive spot inside you, “Please… stop teasing me,” You sounded just as desperate as you were. 

He kissed your ear, making you shiver just at the mere touch of his lips, before saying, “Well, since you asked so nicely.” 

The sound of him undoing his belt and lowering his zipper made your heart race. You felt his rough, but warm hands on your body again as he grabbed you on either side of your hips before pressing the tip of his cock against your hole. But he didn’t slide his cock inside of you yet because of course, he wanted to make you suffer some more. 

“Are you gonna behave from now on?” He asked, sliding the tip of his cock up and down your slit, making you whine and cry out in desperation. 

“Yes…” You whispered. “Yes, just please–,” 

The sound of his hand slapping your thigh cut you off. Followed by a slight sting which made you squirm and whine some more. Lando’s voice was deeper now when he spoke, “What did I say about ordering me around? Hmm?” 

You tried to push back into him but he pulled away chuckling each time you did. So finally you said, “I’m sorry.” 

“Good girl,” He whispered, slowly pushing inside you until he filled you up, feeling your walls tighten around him immediately. “Ah fuck, I knew you’d feel like fucking heaven.” He groaned, muttering under his breath as he fucked you with shallow thrusts. 

Lando grabbed your wrists and pinned them down at your lower back, using it as leverage to fuck deeper into you, harder, faster. He laughed when you began whining even louder, mumbling incoherently as he fucked you. 

“Sure you wanna give this up, baby?” He questioned, gradually building up his pace. “You sure you don’t want this little pussy to be full of me each night? For the rest of your life? Huh?” 

The sound of of you two fucking was driving you insane. 

“You’re gonna be addicted to this cock now, you’re gonna want it all the time.” He boasted. “But you can only have it when you’re a good girl, you hear me?” 

His breathy moans, his raspy voice, your body bumping against the desk with each thrust, the sound of metal from his belt clinking together, it was all too much, too good. 

“Please…” You whimpered, begging for more. 

“Yeah? This is all you needed, isn’t it, baby? Acting like a disobedient brat, thinking you make the rules, all of it just because you needed to be fucked and put in your place, huh?” He growled, tightening his grip on your wrists as he fucked you harder, feeling your walls getting tighter around him. 

You whined, “Lando… I–” 

He cut you off quickly, “Hold it, don’t come yet.” 

He thrust his cock harder into you, making your eyes water and your heart race. Then he just stopped, abruptly. Pulled out and pulled you up from the desk, turning you to face him. 

“You didn’t think it was gonna be that easy, did you?” He grabbed you by the chin as he spoke, staring deep into your eyes. You could barely form a thought. Lando just scoffed and leaned in to kiss you, hard, before pulling away and saying, “Get down on your knees.” 

Lust-drunk and under his spell, you did. You got down on your knees in front of him. You watched how he grabbed his cock at the base and guided his tip over to your already open mouth and said, “Now be a good girl, and suck.”  

You opened your mouth wider as he slowly pushed himself deep into your mouth. He grabbed the back of your neck and gently guided you. 

“That’s it. See? You’re learning already? That’s how a good wife sucks her husband’s cock,” He hissed in pleasure. You looked up and met his pretty eyes. He looked down at you like you belonged there, kneeling before him with his cock in your mouth. 

You felt his smooth skin along your tongue, tasting his precum as he groaned and hissed in pleasure. You whimpered, circling his tip with your tongue before sucking on it gently. 

“Look at me.” 

When you looked up at his handsome face, he said, “Fuck… you’re so beautiful, you know that? Come on now. Up.”  

Lando had you sit on the edge of the table again before he stepped in between your legs. Your arms wrapped around his neck immediately, fingers sliding into his curly hair as he leaned in to kiss you again. It was a deep kiss again with him growling into your mouth with impatience. 

He kissed his way down your neck as he aligned his cock to your core again. He slipped inside you with ease this time, making you gasp at how good he felt as he began fucking you. 

“You feel that?” He asked, as he grabbed your thighs and pushed them further apart so he could fuck you deeper. “This cock can be all yours, baby.” He whispered, lips brushing against your own as he spoke. “You can have it anytime, all day, every day if you want.” He fucked you hard, fast and deep. Your body would’ve fallen on top of the desk had he not wrapped his arms around you to keep you close. 

You moaned incessantly, not caring if his butler or housekeepers heard. “Lando …” You gasped, “I’m so close…” You whimpered. 

He chuckled. “Are you now?” He teased. “Your little pussy feels so good… so fucking tight like it was made for me,” He whispered against your skin and you barely heard him given your heartbeats echoed in your ear, you were breathless, you wanted more. 

You whined as you felt yourself getting so close to the edge again as he pounded into you relentlessly. You felt a familiar pressure in between your legs, all of it getting too much to handle.

“Lando, please,” You cried out, looking into his eyes and silently pleading. “Please, can I come?” 

He smirked, feeling your walls clench violently around him. “See I told you I was very good with brats. Look at you no longer complaining, no longer whining about wanting to call off our wedding.” His voice sounded deeper when he spoke. Then he saw that look in your eyes, you were close to losing your mind so he finally said, “Come on then, baby. Come all over this cock.” 

You didn’t need to be told twice. You came with a loud cry of his name, walls clenching around him and milking him so perfectly that he followed shortly after, coming undone while he was buried deep inside you, gripping your thigh tightly and holding you close. 

You rested your forehead on his shoulder as you both caught your breath. He wrapped his arms around your shaking body, caressing up and down your back while you held on to him like he was your everything. 

“So?” He asked in that mocking tone of his. “Still want to call off the wedding?” 

“I hate you.” You mumbled, voice muffled given you’d shoved your face into the crook of his neck. You hated how comforting his body heat was. 

Lando chuckled. “Of course you do.” He taunted. Then leaning down to get closer to your ear he whispered, “Your pussy just strangled my cock so hard I’m pretty sure it left bruises on it. But sure, you hate me.” 

You whined, squirmed a little because his words made a weird wave of pleasure wash over you. 

Lando laughed and said, “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up, princess.” 

[katiethelmie]

Vampire AU

Just some lil ideas on the vampire AU idea and extra messy sketches to get into the Halloween spirit!

Literally just make it The bear but Syd is a vampire in this universe

Having her being a vampire, how? Maybe she’s been a vampire for a long time, traveling around the world being the jack of all trades

Always having her cooking be her best skill

She came back to Chicago cause she wanted to be back home again

Found out one of the favored chefs were also back in Chicago and is now working at the beef looking for a sou, she’s intrigued.

Syds outside of the beef, getting ready to go in as she smells something she recognized when visiting that restaurant in New York all those years ago

Let’s make it like he’s a reincarnation of a reincarnation from a person she’s met throughout her immortal life

A hint of blood orange, tart and a bit sweet. Not too strong but just enough to entice her for her fangs to come out

Standing face to face with Carmen Berzatto, the smell of his blood surrounds her and she gets hungry but she abruptly stops herself

Getting the job, Syd has to suppress her urges and confuse her thoughts that if what she’s feeling is a crush, admiration, or just pure instinct to taste his blood.

Or maybe all of the above?

But then she gets to see how he is while working with him then her anger and confusion arises. He’s not what she thought he was

He calls her too green

Her dish is just “not ready yet chef”

and yet she stays because she wants to improve the restaurant and make a difference to a small place.

Maybe even get to know him better, with the life he has right now

No- Not staying just for him, that be absurd and too weird. Right?

She finally quits but still has lingering feelings and she thinks, “What if I just have a taste, then I can leave and it’ll all be over I’ll be done with him and that restaurant. I don’t have to stay.”

She’s traveled all over the world and yet this one dingy place with this blue eyed mam keeps her here tethered

But does she hate it?

“Why? Why him?”

Looking at him and smelling the hint of blood oranges hits her and she’s hooked again, she came to collect her check but she stayed yet again for him

Sprinkle a lil bit of inner turmoil, with the restaurant renovations and Claire situation. Ya know, angst

And how bout him finding out she is a vampire at the end of S2 after friends and family.

Syd gets really weak after service, throwing up and getting her vampire urges

Desperate, she turns to Carmy since he’s the only one left after being freed from the freezer

“I NEED YOUR FUCKING BLOOD CARMY.”

Finally when she takes a bite, it’s literally life changing, life ALTERING like she can’t get enough and doesn’t think she’ll ever get this again so she savors as much as she can take

Secretly also he likes it, he finally feels calm and things go quiet while feeling safe in her arms

This is where spice ensues, cause he takes her back to his apartment to feed more

Once she wakes up the next morning, the bed is a bit of a mess, blood dry on her lips and chest

But there’s no Carmy

She cleans up and heads straight to the bear, and there he is, with dishes in front of him and a cold demeanor

His aura is completely changed

For S3 they make a little deal between eachother.

Carm is her blood bank and he willingly complies as long as she pushes him and he can push her for the restaurant

He thinks this’ll be the chance for him and syd to finally connect better in a weird fucked up way

While also simultaneously being sort of robotic and detached like he sorta was in S3

Also another way for her to stay with him for as long as she’ll have him

More drama ensues etc. idk I’m not good with writing but it was fun silly idea to get into the Halloween spirit!

[thatonebirdwrites]

Pumpkin

Continuation from L-Corp, Chill, and Scotch , Catco and Family, Kara and Heat, Plumerias and Ink, Aura, Coffee, and Book

The day before Halloween, Lena is finally discharged from the hospital. It’d been a harrowing two and a half weeks, and she’s still not fully recovered. She’d been offered a rollator until she’d regained her strength, but she’d rejected it.

So instead she uses a cane, carved by Kara herself once Kara discovered Lena planned to use one. Its designs hold elements of both Irish and Kryptonian symbols and mythology, and Lena honestly adores it. It’s so them.

Kara walks at her side, anxious, and she keeps one hand on Kara’s arm more for her sake than because she needs it. “You sure you don’t want me to carry you?” Kara offers again.

“No.” Lena pauses a the edge of the sidewalk. Their ride — Sam Arias — waits in the minivan. She leans closer and kisses Kara on the cheek. A new activity between them that she can’t help but do. It always elicits a blush, which is one of Lena’s favorite hobbies now. Turning Kara into a flustered mess. “How about we visit Noonan’s? I can try your favorite pumpkin spice monstrosity you raved about for the past week.”

That brightens Kara immensely. Food and sweet drinks always do. “Sure! And that’s not far from your penthouse. I can get you back easy.”

Lena’s not sure she has the strength for the walk from Noonan’s to her penthouse, but then Kara is Supergirl. “Sure.”

Once they’re both in the van — Lena in the front with Kara in the back, Sam starts up the van. “So where to? Your penthouse? Do not say L-Corp. I am not allowing you in that building until the doctor gives you the okay to work again.”

Lena chuckles. “All right. I’m only a research consultant now anyway.”

“And you have a tendency to sneak into labs and forget to eat regardless,” Sam shoots back. “No more of that is allowed.”

“I’ll make sure she rests,” Kara says.

Sam smirks and pulls away from the curb. “I’m sure you will.”

Lena shakes her head at the two. “Drop us at Noonan’s Sam. I’d like a small, non-hospital meal. Kara says she can handle my walk to the penthouse after.”

Sam raises her eyebrows. “She gonna fly you? Because I’m envious of that. Wish I had my own Super to fly me around.”

“Hey, it’s…” Kara starts to protest, but then trails off.

Lena laughs. She glances at her love, and of course, her face is a bright red. It’s just too easy to tease her.

***

Since it’s late afternoon, Noonan’s has far less customers, most nestled in corners with their laptops or a board game. Kara keeps her hand on Lena’s lower back as they navigate up to the main counter.

Sam had dropped them off with a wave and a "don't do what I wouldn't do!" which she'd supplied with a heavy wink at Lena. Which is fine. Sam can tease her all she wants. Lena finally knows what she wants, and as scared as she is to grab it, she knows she can't go back to living in fear, hurt, and anger.

She wants to step forth into the light of hope, healing, and love. So she hobbles with her cane with as much dignity as she can muster, and welcomes Kara's solid presence at her side.

"What do you recommend?" she scans the menu as they wait on the customers in front of them.

“Pumpkin spice latte is really good. It works well with black tea or coffee. Though prefer the tea version,” Kara recommended. “And their pumpkin spice muffins are fantastic. I could eat their entire batch.”

“Of course you would.” Lena smiles at her and thinks of how pretty Kara looks. Her blond hair pulled back in a bun, and her sapphire eyes which Lena could easily lose herself in if she’s not careful. She wants to kiss Kara, but not in a public place. That’s a private wish and a hope that something beyond kissing may develop.

She turns back to the counter to stop the lecherous thoughts. The barista is a teenager with spiky hair and a tattoo sleeve of a raven. “I’d like the pumpkin spice Latte black tea— two, and a dozen muffins. Eight pumpkin spice and four blueberry. To-go just in case.” She’s not sure how long she can last before laying down.

The teen nods as she writes out the order. “And your name?”

“Lena.” She digs out her wallet, and to her annoyance, her hand trembles still as she hands over the card. She hopes, in time, the tremors fade away, but the neurologist who had stopped by a few days before her discharge hadn’t found anything obvious. Though he suggested she go through a nerve conduction test in their outpatient facility. Yet more tests she doesn’t want to deal with anymore.

She’d done this to herself, and at random moments of the day, she feels a surge of frustration with herself at how foolish she’d been.

Today, however, as she stands there, with her wooden cane, leaning against Kara, she feels hopeful. No more anger at herself. Instead, she'll put that energy to living a healthier life, where she never takes her health for granted again.

Once they have their food, Kara navigates them to the nearby National City Park. “Why not have a picnic?” She’d argued. “It’s so nice outside!”

How could Lena say no? They choose a spot far off the beaten path in a clearing of oaks and maples. The sky has a few cirrus clouds, and the air a nip of chill. A few leaves cling to the trees, most scattered across the ground.

Kara lays out her coat and gently settles Lena atop it. She sits next to her, her leg pressed up against Lena’s and their backs to the oak tree “To your health!” Kara says and lifts her pumpkin spice latte in a toast.

Lena smiles and holds hers up as well. “May it be well.” She sips it, and to her surprise, she finds it rather good.

She’d chosen tea rather than coffee for the base, which melds well with the other spices. The Almond milk also blends it into a prefect concoction that isn’t too sweet but also isn’t like drinking pumpkin pie in a cup.

“I’m impressed.” She looks at her cup and shakes her head with a smile. “You were right.”

“See?” Kara grins and throws back a large swig of hers. Considering both are fairly warm, Lena wonders if her powers prevents Kara from burning her mouth. “Sweet drinks can be fun and delicious. Plus, you can’t have a spooky season without pumpkin. It’s like some sort of hidden human law or something.”

Lena laughs. “That is so not a thing, but okay, dork.” She opens the muffin container, and uses the plastic fork to carve off a piece of one of the pumpkin spice ones. The flavor plus the fluffiness of its texture isn’t half-bad. “Fairly good. I think I still prefer blueberry though.”

Kara grabs one and eats it so quickly that it reminds Lena of those Garfield cartoons in the newspapers she’d read as a kid.

“Did you even taste it?” Lena jokes.

“Of course!” Kara says between bites on her second or perhaps third muffin. “Supertastes! And smells. I am surrounded sensually by pumpkin!”

“Sensually,” Lena drawls. She leans closer with a smirk. “Quite the word choice.”

Kara swallows, her eyes wide. Bits of muffin debris stick to the side of her mouth. Lena runs her thumb along Kara’s lip to wipe it away. God, she wants to kiss her so bad. Her entire body rings with desire, and it’s hard to not look at Kara’s lips.

In turn, Kara watches her, an intensity in her gaze, her pupils blown. A look Lena has rarely seen. She sets her cup in the cup-holder and lays a hand against Kara’s cheek. Rubs her thumb back and forth over her cheekbone.

“Our drinks will go cold,” Kara murmurs.

“Mmmm. I’m sure you can warm them up.” Lena scoots closer, and her eyes dart from Kara’s sapphire to the rosy hue of her lips. She runs her thumb down Kara’s face toward her lips again. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispers. Her health scare has taught her, if anything, to not take things for granted, and she definitely does not want to take Kara for granted.

Kara could still leave her. Could find her too prickly, too petty, too much.

Sharing her heart’s desire could backfire on her, and she’s not sure she can handle Kara’s rejection of her love.

Yet, she's a scientist, and evidence is key to combating irrational thoughts and fears. So far the evidence in Kara’s physical responses to her touch hints that maybe, just maybe Kara desires her too. The best way to test this hypothesis would be to directly kiss Kara.

Yet she finds herself suddenly shy. It takes her nearly a minute to gather up her courage to finally ask, “May I kiss you?”

“Yes, please.” Kara breaths out the words.

Tentatively, Lena leans forward and presses her lips to Kara’s in a chaste kiss. Starting simple with hopes of repeatability later.

To her surprise, Kara responds enthusiastically. Her arms wrap around Lena, and she kisses her back fervently. All too quickly her tongue slips into Lena’s mouth, and Lena’s lost in the sensation. Lost in the fire that burns between them, the desire that throbs through her entire body. She tastes pumpkin spice, a hint of almond, and a sweetness that overwhelms all her nerves.

Time ceases to have meaning. Only Kara’s lips and tongue holds any meaning. Unlike the hospital’s timelessness, Lena embraces this kiss-version, her entire body filled with the warmth and light of Kara.

Lena’s lungs start to burn, and she has to pull back to breathe and calm her racing heart. She presses her forehead against Kara’s and takes the moment to just bask in the afterglow of the best kiss she’s ever had.

“Gosh, wow, um... " Kara takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "You’re so amazing.... pretty." That causes a huff of a laugh from Lena. Kara's just too cute. One hand rests at Lena’s waist, and the other is tangled in Lena’s hair. “But we should probably take it easy to not stress your heart.”

That’s when Lena realizes she must have climbed into Kara’s lap during their kissing. Well, that’s only a trifle embarrassing. “Not worried about that right now,” she admits out loud. “Would rather keep kissing.”

That earns her one of Kara’s cute blushes.

“Embarrassed, darling?” Lena strokes Kara’s cheek with the back of her hand. “I’d love sex too, but I understand if you need to wait.”

“Lenaaaa!” Kara whines. She buries her face in Lena’s shoulder, which amuses and delights Lena to no end. “Wish I could,” she mutters. “But don’t wanna hurt you.”

Oh. That is a complication. Kara’s powers could make it difficult. She knows Kara has a tight control on her powers; it’s why Lena had been fooled for so long. Would that change if Kara gets too worked up in sex?

“What would help you feel comfortable?” Lena rubs a hand down Kara’s arm, her biceps wonderfully sculpted under her fingers.

“I’m not sure. My cousin mentioned Red lamp emitters help him, which was a detail I didn’t want to know at the time.” Kara makes a face, but then smiles ruefully. “I really do want you, Lena. I do. It’s not until your hospital stay that I realized just how much.”

Lena breathes in and lets it out slowly. She’d been half-joking about sex, but hearing Kara say ‘I want you,’ has her hungry for more. She wants all of Kara’s truth. All of her journey to this point. “What about it helped you realize that?”

“Well, your growing affection for one.” She brushes a lock of Lena’s hair from her eyes and tucks it behind her ear. “I struggled with panic, and Alex, Sam, and Kelly all helped me understand why I felt so, so scared.” Kara huffs out a laugh. “Alex even bluntly said it. ‘Kara,’” she mimics Alex’s voice far too well, “Just own up to your feelings. You’ve got it bad for her. So of course you’re scared to lose her.’ And I opened my mouth to deny but realized then that I couldn’t because Alex was right.”

“Wait, Alex is okay with me and you… together?” The concept blows Lena’s mind.

“Well, yeah, you’re family, Lena. Even Eliza considers you part of our family. She always asks me if you’re coming with.” Kara smiles and kisses Lena’s nose.

Now it’s Lena’s turn to flush. She had no idea Kara’s adopted mother paid much attention to her beyond being polite.

“You come to our holidays now,” Kara continues, “and often stay the night at my place. It was only when I got caught up being Supergirl during that last crisis, trying to figure out who framed me, that we didn’t do sleepovers.”

“I did miss them.” Lena tugs at her own fingers and looks down, shy and uncertain. Tears sting her eyes, and she sighs. “I was so hurt after Lex’s death, and I thought drowning myself in work would help. But it nearly killed me.” She nibbles on her lower lip and decides to just say it. “I — I’ll be seeing a therapist in my outpatient treatment. Sam’s overjoyed and even more insufferable about it, but I wasn’t sure if that’s a deal breaker for you?”

“What? No way! I’m glad for it.” Kara tugs her into a hug and kisses her head. Lena can’t help but melt into her endless warmth. “We can be therapy buddies. Me with my mind-healing, and you with therapy.” That invokes a chuckle from Lena, because of course Kara would spin this into dorky territory. “Oh, just think,” Kara raises her hand and moves it as if showing off a new art piece, “once we’re done mind-healing, we’ll be unstoppable.”

“A Luthor and a Super,” Lena says, and the thought warms her from head to toe.

Kara looks at her with a grin, and Lena can’t help herself. She places her hands on Kara’s cheeks and kisses her again. Soft kisses, where she peppers them over Kara’s face and mouth. Her heart overflows with her intense feelings: the hurt forged into acceptance, the fear into hope, and the grief into her fervent love.

“God, I love you so much,” she murmurs. She drags her nose down Kara’s neck.

That elicits a sharp intake of breath, then Kara’s hand on the back of her head. “You — you love me? As in love-love? Like romantic?”

Lena pulls back to meet Kara’s incredulous look. “Yes, in love. I have been for years, Kara, and I told you this in the hospital.” She pinches Kara’s cheeks. “That truth hasn’t changed now that I’m discharged.”

“Oh.” Kara smiles, and her shoulders relax as if she’d harbored hidden tension. “I — I was afraid your affection in the hospital would fade after you discharged — gosh, it’s silly now that I say it out loud…”

Lena shrugs. “I had a similar fear. But the hospital taught me to not let fear overtake me. To not take things for granted. I have this one life to live, and why not let love rather than fear direct me?”

“That’s beautiful.” Kara strokes Lena’s cheek. “And I want you to know that I — I love you too. Like really love you.” Those words blossom in Lena’s chest like rays of light. “Does that mean we’re girlfriends now?” Kara asks with a smile.

Lena nods, wordless for once, her desires, hope, and love all corded up inside her, where all she wants is to unleash it on Kara. To map her body with her lips, fingers, and tongue. But first she needs to solve Kara’s powers issue.

Which means she needs to investigate red light emitters. It’s a new project, one that won’t tax her too much. She’ll need something that' isn't related to the health tests and the physical, occupational, and mental health therapy.

She leans forward and kisses Kara in response. A soft, slow one that briefly collapses time into their shared love. Kara's stomach breaks them apart this time, and Lena can't help but laugh.

"Let's get you fed," she says, poking Kara's stomach, which earns her Kara's blushing.

They return to their somewhat cold food — Kara does indeed do a blast of her heat vision to steam the lattes, though now Lena has to wait for it to cool enough to drink.

Ideas bloom and evolve into schematics and possible experiments. She wants Kara to feel comfortable and safe no matter where they take this.

And if she’s being honest, she’s a little anxious about how to navigate around Kara’s powers in the bedroom too. Being with a superpowered alien requires a bit of creativity, but Lena loves a good challenge.

Just as she adores her lovable, foible, and dorky alien.

[peaches2217]

All the Gold in the World

This was my very first Mario fic, originally published June 22/23, 2023! As the original Tumblr publication was on a burner account, in celebration of its (belated) anniversary, I figured I'd give it its long-deserved place on my main blog. Please enjoy this throwback! And here's the AO3 link.

~~~

There it was again, that telltale sparkle in those big, blue, beautiful eyes. It was just as Peasley had hoped: an invitation to sneak away from the dreary duties of the palace in favor of strolling an upscale shopping pavilion arm-in-arm, a bit of light conversation about how worn his favorite tunic was becoming and won’t you help me choose a new one today, my love?, and a break for coffee that just happened to see them seated across from a display of some of the finest, most colorful, undoubtedly most expensive gowns in the kingdom, all efforts to disguise (and eventually expose) his true plan.

Seeing the awe in his Luigi’s eyes as he cast longer and longer glances at the display, watching the corners of his lips twitch beneath his mustache as the subtle spark of innuendo grew into a flame of yearning… he’d known it, oh, he’d known it all along!

Now, Peasley was very clever, and his consort had the loveliest of tastes, so how this knowledge had eluded him for so long, he was ashamed to say he wasn’t certain. But it didn’t matter now. The only question that mattered now was—

“Which of those gowns are you eyeing, my pet?”

Luigi sputtered so hard that a small mouthful of coffee forced its way past his lips.

“Wh— gowns? What gowns?” he stuttered, wiping the coffee dribbling from his chin with the back of his hand, a shamed blush overtaking him. “I don’t see any gowns!”

Peasley, unfazed, handed him a paper napkin. “I was thinking the deep green A-line with the bell sleeves, personally. The color’s a given, and the silhouette would compliment your form exquisitely. Perfect for the upcoming Edamame Extravaganza.”

Luigi hastily wiped his glove and the table clean, his mouth opening and closing in a way that wasn’t unlike a Cheep Cheep caught on dry land. Assorted sounds came out, but nothing coherent. 

Peasley couldn’t help but chuckle. His Greenie had a number of interests he’d tried to hide, offering up such excuses as “It’s embarrassing!” and “It’s really nothing, just a dumb pastime, you know?” when he was inevitably discovered. Yet every last one of those interests enamored Peasley, and perhaps none more so than this. Oh, how proud he was of his own detective work.

“I— I-I just couldn’t pull off a dress that well,” Luigi finally managed, “you know?”

“Nonsense! You once pulled off a more stunning Peach than the real deal. You didn’t hear that from me, of course.”

Luigi simply hid behind his coffee, humming nervously. His Starbeans order was always the same: a medium-roast Hoolumbian with so much nutmeg that the air around them smelled like a winter market. Watching him sip and hum and blush, Peasley found himself craving pumpkin spice.

“But they’re so… expensive, right?” Luigi eventually said into his near-empty cup. “I-I could never! I’d never ask for something like that!”

Ah, of course! His Luigi had come from a commoner’s background, after all. Little had changed since he’d become Prince Consort of the Beanbean Kingdom. He was still more comfortable in cotton and denim than the tunics and robes of the palace, he still preferred tinkering with pipes and assorted machinery to sitting in committees or kissing babies as adoring citizens fawned over him, and, so it would seem, he still worried about money, as though an entire royal family’s wealth wasn’t his to partake in.

“You needn’t concern yourself with such matters!” Peasley’s right hand met Luigi’s left, their fingers lacing together. Luigi’s hands were larger, quite a bit so, and yet they fit Peasley’s like a lock and key. “I would never offer something I couldn’t afford to give.”

That statement wasn’t entirely true — he’d promise his love a five-course banquet if all he had was a single loaf of bread, and by the stars he’d make it happen — but he could most certainly afford this, and that was essential to reinforce. For weeks now, he had been privately swooning to thoughts of Luigi strolling through the lush gardens of the palace, clad in silk and velvet that swished at his feet with every step, a crown of matching roses in the place of his favorite hat. He was one step closer to bringing that image into reality, and that was worth all the gold in the world.

And yet the reassurance didn’t seem to quell any of Luigi’s worries — in fact, he only looked more stressed, more uncertain. He stared awfully hard at some spot on the table that Peasley couldn’t see, and his fingers had gone rigid in Peasley’s hold, and— was he… trembling?

Dread blossomed in Peasley’s gut. Had he done something wrong?

“Luigi.” His opposite hand reached out to touch his face, offer comfort, but he stopped himself. Right. He typically preferred not to be touched when he was like this. “Luigi, my darling, what’s wrong?”

For a long moment, Luigi didn’t respond. And so Peasley waited, patient, ready to offer whatever words of comfort he needed.

“I can’t wear a dress,” Luigi finally said. It wasn’t a bashful excuse. It was a lament.

Confusion clouded Peasley’s rationale. Normally, he would drop the topic, see to Luigi’s well-being, and then ask questions when his beloved was in comfortable night clothes with a mug of hot chocolate in the privacy of their chambers. But that deadly mix of confusion and curiosity compelled him to squeeze his hand and ask, “Whyever not?”

At that, Luigi shook his head. “It’s so silly.” He cast a rueful smile to the side, but he did squeeze Peasley’s hand back, so that was progress, at least.

“‘Silly,’” Peasley said, scooting his chair in as far as it would go without crushing his midsection, “is Desi showing up drunk to Chori’s beanceañera on last night’s episode of The Mung and the Restless. What’s not silly is anything that causes you distress.”

Luigi laughed at that, quietly, but genuinely, and his eyes briefly met Peasley’s. They still sparkled, but with something new, something much more melancholy.

“It’s… it’s kind of a holdover, I guess.” He looked back down as he turned Peasley’s hand over, gloved thumb tracing aimlessly over his palm. “From my old world.”

“From Bruck-Len?” Peasley confirmed, watching Luigi’s thumb travel its idle path. “Did something happen there?”

Luigi set his lips into a thin line, and a short but not uncomfortable silence fell over them while he gathered the words he needed. “Nothing one-off, it was more… In Brooklyn, you couldn’t… guys really couldn’t wear those sorts of clothes, you know? If you do, you get made fun of, called names, roughed around, ‘cause you’re not, you know, not a real man.”

Peasley blinked, looking back up. Luigi didn’t meet his gaze.

The quality of one’s character based on the fabric they clad themselves in. The notion made little sense to Peasley.

“Well, what constitutes a ‘real man’?” he wondered aloud. Surely it wasn’t really something so inane as what clothes a man might wear. He, for example, was about as manly a man as they came — he was powerful, intelligent, skilled in combat, exceedingly good-looking — and yet he wore tunics while attending to political affairs or missions and Luigi’s oversized shirts at night, all dresses in all but name.

Yes, he knew well the typical fashion norms and how they differed between men, women, and those who lay in another plane of identity altogether, but never had he heard of such controversy in response to those norms being altered.

Luigi, his beautiful and equally manly Luigi, shrugged in response. “Someone more… rugged, I guess? Definitely not someone who wears a dress. And real simple clothes aren't enough either, oh no. Gotta be macho, hot-headed, tough, athletic, ready to throw down at the drop of a hat…”

“...perhaps with unkempt hair, lighter overalls, a red shirt, maybe?” Peasley guessed, half-joking. And to his delight, that got another laugh out of Luigi, a much lighter, heartfelt laugh. 

“Oh, no,” he said, “even Mario wasn’t man enough half the time!”

“Really? But he fits your description perfectly!”

“Yeah, but he had one liiiiiitle tiny problem: he supported me.” Luigi’s smile diminished again, not into a full frown, but his eyes seemed distant, wistful. “He was the only one I could really be comfortable around, you know? He hates shopping, but he’d always take me to the mall during sales because he knew I didn’t have the nerve to go without him. Sometimes he’d buy whatever I bought in his size and wear it out with me, and then he’d act like a goof so everyone stared at him and not me. Those were the only times I ever got to feel… well, good about wearing girly clothes.”

A feeling like warm nostalgia creeped into Peasley’s chest. Yes, he could picture it well: a shorter, smoother-faced Luigi, in the light fashions of city youth, perhaps a simple skirt and blouse. His matching elder twin, striding alongside him with twice the confidence and none of the elegance, going out of his way to make his gait as clumsy as possible with the biggest smile on his face.

Luigi smiling too, a younger and shyer smile, a boy becoming comfortable in his own skin, in the clothes he felt suited him best.

How could anyone envision such a sight, much less witness it for themselves, and not be besotted? How could anyone see that and mock him?

Peasley’s left hand moved to his opposite side, and he realized with a start that he was instinctively going for his rapier. But his rapier was back at the castle, and the threats which his beloved recounted were all in the past, unchallengeable, unchangeable. Something about that thought left a bitter taste in his throat.

“But I… still got the worst of it,” Luigi continued, and a heavy emotion like woe dimmed his features. “Mario, no one really cared what he did. He was a normal kid where I wasn’t involved. But me? No, I had enough going against me! You take a boy that likes other boys and wearing dresses, and you get…” He cleared his throat. “You get Mario getting grounded a lot. I think he’d beat up like, six different kids by the time we got out of high school?”

The bitterness in Peasley’s throat eased, and he washed the last of it away with a swig of his chuckoccino. He would have to give his gratitude to the elder brother next they met. He hoped little had remained of those vile perpetrators when he was done with them.

Luigi sighed heavily, leaning his cheek into his free hand. “Sooooo… yeah. Wearing dresses still scares me I guess. It shouldn’t, not anymore, I know that, but…”

But you’ve been scared your whole life, haven’t you?

An ache resonated deeply within Peasley, a hurt the likes he hadn’t felt since his favorite character’s untimely death in Days of Our Limas. 

“Oh, my love…” He finally gave in; he couldn’t help reaching forward to stroke Luigi’s face where his hand didn’t obscure it, and the ache lifted slightly when Luigi relaxed against his touch. His sad eyes grew warm, and Peasley could feel the blood rising beneath his skin. So warm, and so responsive… “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to bring up such distressing memories.”

Luigi lifted his head, just enough so that Peasley could cup his cheek. He graced Peasley with a smile so gentle and trusting and grateful that Peasley was sure he could drop dead on the spot from the crushing weight of affection alone.

“Honestly? It felt kinda nice to talk about it. Finally off my chest, you know?” Luigi’s right hand pressed Peasley’s palm deeper against his skin, and for a moment, he said nothing else. But his gaze caught some grounded nothing, and the corners of his mustache twitched, and was he blushing? Yes, he was absolutely blushing, a gorgeous scarlet growing in intensity against Peasley’s touch. “Kinda makes me feel like, uh... l-like it's... time to try again?” he finally found the nerve to say, quietly, but steadily.

Peasley, sagacious as he was, knew that this was his cue. Oh, his brave darling! He would gladly meet such bravery halfway.

“Then— then will you accompany me to that boutique across the street?” His eyes flickered briefly to their conjoined hands as he laced their fingers together once more, his right and Luigi’s left. This whole time, in one form or another, they’d remained connected. Truly like lock and key. “Will you choose a lovely gown and wear it for me, my dear?”

That luminescent shade of red burned hotter still, and as much as Peasley normally enjoyed such a sight, he considered backing down this time, truly considered it. But Luigi nodded, pulling Peasley’s hand towards himself. “As you wish,” he said, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Peasley could feel his lips curl into the smallest of grins. “Mio principe.”

~~~

It took a week, several trips to a handful of the kingdom’s finest shops, and many hours of compliments and sugary-sweet assurances, but by the time the Edamame Extravaganza rolled around and two very important guests arrived at the palace, Luigi stepped out to greet his brother clad in gentle slopes of deep green and gold, a simple but elegant gown that only served to make the handsome prince that much lovelier still.

Mario’s first reaction was shock, followed by what Peasley could best assign as glee. The words the twins exchanged in their native tongue flew by too quickly for him to catch anything of substance (he was, though he would never admit it, a bit slow in learning the language), but the gestures and laughter and the way Mario clapped as Luigi twirled to demonstrate the gown’s billowing skirt told him everything he needed to know: the elder sibling’s taste wasn’t as benighted as he’d feared it might be.

But most importantly, Luigi, his Luigi, was beaming. He was no towering monolith of self-confidence, but he held his head a little higher, and he walked with a sort of grace Peasley hadn’t seen from him before, and the golden embellishments of his attire looked comparatively dull next to the sheer joy that radiated from his countenance.

How much more brightly would he beam tonight, Peasley wondered, when he revealed he’d purchased every single gown Luigi had tried on during their venture, all thirty-seven of them? Surely he would outshine the sun itself.

“You’re going to send him to the hospital,” Peach sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as they stepped away to let the brothers chat. “If he was worried about how expensive a single dress is…”

“I already assured him I wouldn’t do anything I couldn’t afford.”

“I’m surprised you could afford that.”

Peasley tapped his temple in response. “Pragmatism, dear,” he teased. The humble Mushroom Queen was above using her title and benevolent reputation to obtain favors from her citizens. Peasley was not.

Peach shook her head and sighed again, but she couldn’t disguise the fond grin that found its way onto her face.

Turning to watch the brothers once more, Peasley followed suit.

Luigi was the rare sort who possessed no unflattering angles; he looked just as good in a gown as he did in overalls as he did in nothing at all. But he was most beautiful, Peasley decided, when he was unabashedly himself, when he lost sight of the eyes that followed him and simply let himself be, with no pretense  — in those rare instances, he could finally see himself the way Peasley saw him.

Showering him in fine clothing and helping him overcome an old emotional wound wouldn’t miraculously dissolve all of his insecurities. But if it helped even the slightest bit, then that was worth all the gold in the world.

[struggling-author]

Hey what are your avatar otps besides azulaang?

oh umm… I wouldn’t call them OTPs since that is exclusively Azulaang, but my bi Azula headcanon lives in a variety of ships. Azutara, Azuki, Maizula… not Tyzula tbh because that feels like… imbalanced? and not Tophzula because they are menace-besties but not romantic, but with any of the other girls I think it could be great. Azutara has the enemies to lovers from Azulaang but with more spice and less forgiveness, they‘d tear eachother apart first but that makes it even sweeter if they eventually fall in love. Azuki is kind of different because Suki is more rational and holds less of an emotional grudge, it‘d be difficult for Azula to earn her trust but she would not be openly hostile to her unless necessary. I imagine this one could only happen if Azula is already in the middle or post redemption though, because Suki would not put up with any EtL shit. I guess that is exactly why it intrigues me too, I feel Suki would be more willing to give Azula a chance, more than Katara for example, but at the same time it would be impossibly hard to win her trust and I‘d like to see if Zula can manage it. Lastly Maizula, and I prefer this one over Tyzula because I feel Mai is more capable of holding her own against Azula in a relationship. It’s a complicated version of childhood friends to lovers and I‘m kind of here for it. No idea how it would work though lol.

Aside from Azula ships, I think Zutara is pretty cool and works well alongside Azulaang. Kataang is kinda cool in theory too, but I don’t like shipping Aang with anyone except Azula, it feels wrong 🤷‍♂️ The only other Aang ship I can imagine liking is Zukaang, but I don’t talk about it much.

Oh and I have to give a shoutout to Sokkla, I don’t particularly vibe with it but they’re the sister ship to Azulaang and I do see the potential of the two genius strategists, so if Aang didn’t exist I would definitely ship Sokkla instead. Nothing but love to the comrades over there. 🫶🏼

edit: totally forgot this but I actually also love Tylaang aka Ty-Lee and Aang, it just has absolutely no fandom so it’s hard to get the ball rolling. I just feel they would be such a wholesome bubbly cute ship, and I dig the Ty-Lee airbender ancestry theory so she‘d love to learn all about airbender customs and they‘d have so much fun and probably a huge family 😅 anyway I think party of why I ship this is just because I think these two deserve the world and it represents my wish for them to be totally carefree and happy. you can also add Azula and make this a throuple, I think that would work because you have Tyzula as the polar opposites and Aang in the middle to bridge the gap.

speaking of throuples I enjoy the idea of… Azutaraang? (Azula/Katara/Aang) but it is very difficult to make work. The only way I can see it is if Azula and Katara fall in love first because nothing good could come of them fighting over Aang. or maybe I could see like a stranded on a deserted island AU where the three of them have to work together and learn to rely on eachother… idk, difficult but not impossible.

Oh and I love Zuki too (Zuko x Zuki) …damn I guess I do have quite a few non-Azulaang ships. anyway this is essentially a bodyguard AU and it’s actually my favorite Zuko ship (sorry Zutara) not much to say about it cuz I’ve barely engaged with it, but I love the idea and think they would just work really well together. I also can see this as a throuple with Sokka again. I don’t really vibe with Zukka on their own but if you add Suki then I love it, because Suki deserves two good boys and it’s more fun for everyone involved if those two good boys are in love with eachother too.

final edit hopefully: Sokka Azula Aang is good too, for the same reasons listed for Zuko Suki Sokka, I swear that’s it now. goodbye lol.

[keen-as-a-peach-2217]

All the Gold in the World

Or, Peasley doesn’t acknowledge gender norms and wants to see Luigi in a pretty dress.

Very nervous! This is my first complete Mario fic, so I’m posting it here first to see what the response is. If it’s decently received, I’d like to clean it up and post it to my Ao3. While I’m not what I’d call a master wordsmith, it’s a labor of love, so please enjoy, and critiques are welcome as well!

EDIT: We’re live on Ao3! 

~~~~~~

There it was again, that telltale sparkle in those big, blue, beautiful eyes. It was just as Peasley had hoped: an invitation to sneak away from the dreary duties of the palace in favor of strolling an upscale shopping pavilion arm-in-arm, a bit of light conversation about how worn his favorite tunic was becoming and won’t you help me choose a new one today, my love?, and a break for coffee that just happened to see them seated across from a display of some of the finest, most colorful, undoubtedly most expensive gowns in the kingdom, all efforts to disguise (and eventually expose) his true plan. Seeing the awe in his Luigi’s eyes as he cast longer and longer glances at the display, watching the corners of his lips twitch beneath his mustache as the subtle spark of innuendo grew into a flame of yearning… he’d known it, oh, he’d known it all along!

Now, Peasley was very clever, and his consort had the loveliest of tastes, so how this knowledge had eluded him for so long, he was ashamed to say he wasn’t certain. But it didn’t matter now. The only question that mattered now was—

“Which of those gowns are you eyeing, my pet?”

Luigi sputtered so hard that a small mouthful of coffee forced its way past his lips.

“Wh— gowns? What gowns?” he stuttered, wiping the coffee dribbling from his chin with the back of his hand, a shamed blush overtaking him. “I don’t see any gowns!”

Peasley, unfazed, handed him a paper napkin. “I was thinking the deep green A-line with the bell sleeves, personally. The color’s a given, and the silhouette would compliment your form exquisitely. Perfect for the upcoming Edamame Extravaganza.”

Luigi hastily wiped his glove and the table clean, his mouth opening and closing in a way that wasn’t unlike a Cheep Cheep caught on dry land. Assorted sounds came out, but nothing coherent. 

Peasley couldn’t help but chuckle. His Greenie had a number of interests he’d tried to hide, offering up such excuses as “It’s embarrassing!” and “It’s really nothing, just a dumb pastime, you know?” when he was inevitably discovered. Yet every last one of those interests enamored Peasley, and perhaps none more so than this. Oh, how proud he was of his own detective work.

“I— I-I just couldn’t pull off a dress that well,” Luigi finally managed, “you know?”

“Nonsense! You once pulled off a more stunning Peach than the real deal. You didn’t hear that from me, of course.”

Luigi simply hid behind his coffee, humming nervously. His Starbeans order was always the same: a medium-roast Hoolumbian with so much nutmeg that the air around them smelled like a winter market. Watching him sip and hum and blush, Peasley found himself craving pumpkin spice.

“But they’re so… expensive, right?” Luigi eventually said into his near-empty cup. “I-I could never! I’d never ask for something like that!”

Ah, of course! His Luigi had come from a commoner’s background, after all. Little had changed since he’d become Prince Consort of the Beanbean Kingdom. He was still more comfortable in cotton and denim than the tunics and robes of the palace, he still preferred tinkering with pipes and assorted machinery to sitting in committees or kissing babies as adoring citizens fawned over him, and, so it would seem, he still worried about money, as though an entire royal family’s wealth wasn’t his to partake in.

“You needn’t concern yourself with such matters!” Peasley’s right hand met Luigi’s left, their fingers lacing together. Luigi’s hands were larger, quite a bit so, and yet they fit Peasley’s like a lock and key. “I would never offer something I couldn’t afford to give.”

That statement wasn’t entirely true — he’d promise his love a five-course banquet if all he had was a single loaf of bread, and by the stars he’d make it happen — but he could most certainly afford this, and that was essential to reinforce. For weeks now, he had been privately swooning to thoughts of Luigi strolling through the lush gardens of the palace, clad in silk and velvet that swished at his feet with every step, a crown of matching roses in the place of his favorite hat. He was one step closer to bringing that image into reality, and that was worth all the gold in the world.

And yet the reassurance didn’t seem to quell any of Luigi’s worries — in fact, he only looked more stressed, more uncertain. He stared awfully hard at some spot on the table that Peasley couldn’t see, and his fingers had gone rigid in Peasley’s hold, and— was he… trembling?

Dread blossomed in Peasley’s gut. What had he done wrong?

“Luigi.” His opposite hand reached out to touch his face, offer comfort, but he stopped himself. Right. He typically preferred not to be touched when he was like this. “Luigi, my darling, what’s wrong?”

For a long moment, Luigi didn’t respond. And so Peasley waited, patient, ready to offer whatever words of comfort he needed.

“I can’t wear a dress,” Luigi finally said. It wasn’t a bashful excuse. It was a lament.

Confusion clouded Peasley’s rationale. Normally, he would drop the topic, see to Luigi’s wellbeing, and then ask questions when his beloved was in comfortable night clothes with a mug of hot chocolate in the privacy of their chambers. But that deadly mix of confusion and curiosity compelled him to squeeze his hand and ask, “Whyever not?”

At that, Luigi shook his head. “It’s so silly.” He cast a rueful smile to the side, but he did squeeze Peasley’s hand back, so that was progress, at least.

“‘Silly,’” Peasley said, scooting his chair in as far as it would go without crushing his midsection, “is Desi showing up drunk to Chori’s beanceañera on last night’s episode of The Mung and the Restless. What’s not silly is anything that causes you distress.”

Luigi laughed at that, quietly, but genuinely, and his eyes briefly met Peasley’s. They still sparkled, but with something new, something much more melancholy.

“It’s… it’s kind of a holdover, I guess.” He looked back down as he turned Peasley’s hand over, gloved thumb tracing aimlessly over his palm. “From my old world.”

“From Bruck-Len?” Peasley confirmed, watching Luigi’s thumb travel its idle path. “Did something happen there?”

Luigi set his lips into a thin line, and a short but not uncomfortable silence fell over them while he gathered the words he needed. “Nothing one-off, it was more… In Brooklyn, you couldn’t… guys really couldn’t wear those sorts of clothes, you know? If you do, you get made fun of, called names, roughed around, ‘cause you’re not, you know, not a real man.”

Peasley blinked, looking back up. Luigi didn’t meet his gaze.

The quality of one’s character based on the fabric they clad themselves in. The notion made little sense to Peasley.

“Well, what constitutes a ‘real man’?” he wondered aloud. Surely it wasn’t really something so inane as what clothes a man might wear. He, for example, was about as manly a man as they came — he was powerful, intelligent, skilled in combat, exceedingly good-looking — and yet he wore tunics while attending to political affairs or missions and Luigi’s oversized shirts at night, all dresses in all but name.

Yes, he knew well the typical fashion norms and how they differed between men, women, and those who lay in another plane of identity altogether, but never had he heard of such controversy in response to those norms being altered.

Luigi, his beautiful and equally manly Luigi, shrugged in response. “Someone more… rugged, I guess? Definitely not someone who wears a dress. And real simple clothes aren't enough either, oh no. Gotta be macho, hot-headed, tough, athletic, ready to throw down at the drop of a hat…”

“...perhaps with unkempt hair, lighter overalls, a red shirt, maybe?” Peasley guessed, half-joking. And to his delight, that got another laugh out of Luigi, a much lighter, heartfelt laugh. 

“Oh, no,” he said, “even Mario wasn’t man enough half the time!”

“Really? But he fits your description perfectly!”

“Yeah, but he had one liiiiiitle tiny problem: he supported me.” Luigi’s smile diminished again, not into a full frown, but his eyes seemed distant, wistful. “He was the only one I could really be comfortable around, you know? He hates shopping, but he’d always take me to the mall during sales because he knew I didn’t have the nerve to go without him. Sometimes he’d buy whatever I bought in his size and wear it out with me, and then he’d act like a goof so everyone stared at him and not me. Those were the only times I ever got to feel… well, good about wearing girly clothes.”

A feeling like warm nostalgia creeped into Peasley’s chest. Yes, he could picture it well: a shorter, smoother-faced Luigi, in the light fashions of city youth, perhaps a simple skirt and blouse. His matching elder twin, striding alongside him with twice the confidence and none of the elegance, going out of his way to make his gait as clumsy as possible with the biggest smile on his face.

Luigi smiling too, a younger and shyer smile, a boy becoming comfortable in his own skin, in the clothes he felt suited him best.

How could anyone envision such a sight, much less witness it for themselves, and not be besotted? How could anyone see that and mock him?

Peasley’s left hand moved to his opposite side, and he realized with a start that he was instinctively going for his rapier. But his rapier was back at the castle, and the threats which his beloved recounted were all in the past, unchallengeable, unchangeable. Something about that thought left a bitter taste in his throat.

“But I… still got the worst of it,” Luigi continued, and a heavy emotion like woe dimmed his features. “Mario, no one really cared what he did. He was a normal kid where I wasn’t involved. But me? No, I had enough going against me! You take a boy that likes other boys and wearing dresses, and you get…” He cleared his throat. “You get Mario getting grounded a lot. I think he’d beat up like, six different kids by the time we got out of high school?”

The bitterness in Peasley’s throat eased, and he washed the last of it away with a swig of his chuckoccino. He would have to give his gratitude to the elder brother next they met. He hoped little had remained of those vile perpetrators when he was done with them.

Luigi sighed heavily, leaning his cheek into his free hand. “Sooooo… yeah. Wearing dresses still scares me I guess. It shouldn’t, not anymore, I know that, but…”

But you’ve been scared your whole life, haven’t you?

An ache resonated deeply within Peasley, a hurt the likes he hadn’t felt since his favorite character’s untimely death in Days of Our Limas. 

“Oh, my love…” He finally gave in; he couldn’t help reaching forward to stroke Luigi’s face where his hand didn’t obscure it, and the ache lifted slightly when Luigi relaxed against his touch. His sad eyes grew warm, and Peasley could feel the blood rising beneath his skin. So warm, and so responsive… “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to bring up such distressing memories.”

Luigi lifted his head, just enough so that Peasley could cup his cheek. He graced Peasley with a smile so gentle and trusting and grateful that Peasley was sure he could drop dead on the spot from the crushing weight of affection alone.

“Honestly? It felt kinda nice to talk about it. Finally off my chest, you know?” Luigi’s right hand pressed Peasley’s palm deeper against his skin, and for a moment, he said nothing else. But his gaze caught some grounded nothing, and the corners of his mustache twitched, and was he blushing? Yes, he was absolutely blushing, a gorgeous scarlet growing in intensity against Peasley’s touch. “Kinda makes me wanna, um, t-try again,” he finally found the nerve to say, quietly, but steadily.

Peasley, sagacious as he was, knew that this was his cue. Oh, his brave darling! He would gladly meet such bravery halfway.

“Then— then will you accompany me to that boutique across the street?” His eyes flickered briefly to their conjoined hands as he laced their fingers together once more, his right and Luigi’s left. This whole time, in one form or another, they’d remained connected. Truly like lock and key. “Will you choose a lovely gown and wear it for me, my dear?”

That luminescent shade of red burned hotter still, and as much as Peasley normally enjoyed such a sight, he considered backing down this time, truly considered it. But Luigi nodded, pulling Peasley’s hand towards himself. “As you wish,” he said, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Peasley could feel his lips curl into the smallest of grins. “Mio principe.”

~~~

It took a week, several trips to a handful of the kingdom’s finest shops, and many hours of compliments and sugary-sweet assurances, but by the time the Edamame Extravaganza rolled around and two very important guests arrived at the palace, Luigi stepped out to greet his brother clad in gentle slopes of deep green and gold, a simple but elegant gown that only served to make the handsome prince that much lovelier still.

Mario’s first reaction was shock, followed by what Peasley could best assign as glee. The words the twins exchanged in their native tongue flew by too quickly for him to catch anything of substance (he was, though he would never admit it, a bit slow in learning the language), but the gestures and laughter and the way Mario clapped as Luigi twirled to demonstrate the gown’s billowing skirt told him everything he needed to know: the elder sibling’s taste wasn’t as benighted as he’d feared it might be.

But most importantly, Luigi, his Luigi, was beaming. He was no towering monolith of self-confidence, but he held his head a little higher, and he walked with a sort of grace Peasley hadn’t seen from him before, and the golden embellishments of his attire looked comparatively dull next to the sheer joy that radiated from his countenance.

How much more brightly would he beam tonight, Peasley wondered, when he revealed he’d purchased every single gown Luigi had tried on during their venture, all thirty-seven of them? Surely he would outshine the sun itself.

“You’re going to send him to the hospital,” Peach sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as they stepped away to let the brothers chat. “If he was worried about how expensive a single dress is…”

“I already assured him I wouldn’t do anything I couldn’t afford.”

“I’m surprised you could afford that.”

Peasley tapped his temple in response. “Pragmatism, dear,” he teased. The humble Mushroom Queen was above using her title and benevolent reputation to obtain favors from her citizens. Peasley was not.

Peach shook her head and sighed again, but she couldn’t disguise the fond grin that found its way onto her face.

Turning to watch the brothers once more, Peasley followed suit.

Luigi was the rare sort who possessed no unflattering angles; he looked just as good in a gown as he did in overalls as he did in nothing at all. But he was most beautiful, Peasley decided, when he was unabashedly himself, when he lost sight of the eyes that followed him and simply let himself be, with no pretense  — in those rare instances, he could finally see himself the way Peasley saw him.

Showering him in fine clothing and helping him overcome an old emotional wound wouldn’t miraculously dissolve all of his insecurities. But if it helped even the slightest bit, then that was worth all the gold in the world.

[fancylala4]

Hey,

What do you think of Taylors " Sqaud" of friends.

Like, it's weird how you don't know who soem of her friends are until they make a comment of if there's a photo...like either Emma stone ( which I feel she only out their " friendship " in the headlines because emma and Joe have a film together and I'm guessing taylor wanted some fire storm around that )

Blake livly gives mean mean girl vibes ike she'll act that she's this mum who loves to bake and be a good friend but she did have a wedding at a plantation and there's other stuff that I can't remember right now.

Lena Dunham. ( I can't withbthst woman - like have you seen her insta post she tries to be like a model but it's awkward and cringe, and all the other things that I can't bare to actually write)

Keleigh teller...like talk about mean girl, and how she loves to post about her lavish life ( I feel sorry for miles sometimes) and I find it funny it wasn't until top gun 2 came out we even know that Keleigh was friends with Taylor.

The football wife ; britney like she obviously loves the attention more than her family, like I bet you she'll name her next child after taylor in some way - Robin if it's a boy and one of the many girl names taylor has sung about.

I'm hoping someone it's taylor again ..because with all the sings she's released to stop other artists, there's enough evidence to show, and even okd interviews about her relationships.

What I don't understand is how the documentary about scooter and taylors fued isn't getting talked about.

Like taylor knew about the whole thing, I believe it was all orchestrated to make her the ultimate victim.

And what annoyed me is two poscasters who a woman talked about it...but they are so " go woman" " dont talk bad about other woman" that they just said poor taylor - i think even said soemthing like she was a teenager when she signed and probably trusted the men around her ( even though woman do horrible things to and not just men and everyone deserves to be told when they've been shit)

She's going to do something that shifts people and that shift will cause people to actually look at her and see her for who she is.

I didn’t comment on her girl squad because I don’t know who’s even in the squad anymore. I know Selena was friends with her but I think something happened between them. Lena is an awful person who has no talent whatsoever and being friends with Taylor makes a lot of sense since they are similar in personality. I also get the feeling that she hated to be seen with the squad because she looks like the odd woman out. Blake is basically irrelevant and I will always side eyed her when she had her wedding on a plantation. Though her friendship with Taylor made sense since Taylor has done similar things like that. I don’t know who footballer’s wife or teller are. Isn’t Sabrina and ice spice in her squad now? She switches friends as often as she does with her clothing. It’s hard to keep track of.

I don’t really know much about that whole situation with scooter and Taylor. But I think it had to do with her masters? I think artists should own their music. However, Taylor was in a better position than others because she used her power and influence to break free. She was incredibly lucky that worked out for her. Though I could see her opening her own company and screwing over artists signed under her like scooter did.

[akaridream]

after dark pt. 2: rooftop (hawks x reader)

tags: hawks x reader

cw: cursing, hawks is a flirt, afab reader, mentions of drugs/alcohol, smut in later chapters

taglist: @inkthgoat ​ @pnsduck @mysideeffectsofyou

masterlist

You nearly cried when you saw half a million yen in your bank account Saturday morning. You spent a few extra minutes in bed, grinning at the ceiling and thanking the kami for Hawks. You couldn’t help but think of the smile in his voice and the playful spark in his eye. I should thank him again, you thought. You reached for your phone just as a text came through.

Hawks: morning! the transfer should have gone through by now, lemme know if you got it

You: Yes, I got it. Thank you again, the amount is extremely generous for three weeks. I hope my work lives up to it

Hawks: i’m sure you’ll be worth it :) so for monday, i was thinking we should meet up near the psc hq with enough time for you to give me a quick crash course on taking photos for evidence. I’ve got an ear piece for you too, so we can be in constant contact while we’re spread out

You: Yeah we can do that. Do you have a DSLR?

Hawks: lol what is that

You: Are you serious

Hawks: nah haha its the 21st century, i know what a digital camera is :D i don’t have one though

You: omg good grief Hawks

You: Most cell phones can take pretty good pics these days, so I’m sure yours will be fine. Or I can teach you how to work the SLR and I’ll use my phone since I know what I’m doing

Hawks: ooo I kNoW wHaT i’M dOinG

You: Wow, the attitude. I could always just take your money and run

Hawks: could you tho? i bet i could track you down

You: I could go off the grid and you’d never find me

Hawks: eh, you’d get bored and lonely. plus i have my ways

You: Maybe bored, but I doubt I’d get lonely. Snowy owls are solitary

Hawks: not always ;)

You couldn’t help but blush. His cheeky banter made you wonder how he could be so comfortable with someone he just met. You crafted, then deleted, then rewrote, then deleted your reply again, trying to find the line between professional and playful. He was right, after all, and spring was on its way.

You: I should have known you were going to be a handful, Hero.

Hawks: ;) ;) ;)

You rolled your eyes and blushed again. Goofball, you thought. You just might reciprocate the flirting, once your work was done.

You: Text me when you have something important to talk about, Bird Brain

Hawks: aw c’mon, i’m just teasing ya

Hawks: how does 3:30p monday at the family mart a block east of the psc sound? we can grab some snacks, hang out on the rooftop and take some practice shots

You: No offense, but you kind of attract attention, so going anywhere in public in the light of day with you is going to be a no for me. Nighttime shooting is more involved than shooting in full daylight, that’s when I think we’ll need to practice. How about tomorrow after sundown?

Hawks: you just can’t wait to see me, huh?

Hawks: but yeah, I can make that work. same place, 8p tomorrow. and i’ll grab snacks beforehand, all by my lonesome :’( what kinda stuff you like?

You: Sounds good to me. Nothing spicy. Other than that I’m really not picky. Something salty and something sweet I guess

Hawks: no spice? bummer

Hawks: i’ll hook you up tho. see you then!

You felt childish sitting on the roof with your feet overhanging the side of the stories-high building downtown Fukuoka. The busy street below bustled with life, but no crimson feathers to speak of yet. Your stomach was convinced you were on a roller coaster, slowing ticking up and up and up towards the crest of a great drop. No professional dealings had ever gotten you in knots like this.

What if I’m a bad teacher? What if he’s a total moron and doesn’t understand anything I say? What if I trip over my words? What if I forget something super important and his photos turn out horrible? What if he forgets to take off the lens cap?

Your anxiety and the bracing breeze sent a chill through you. You pulled your thumb sleeves tighter over your knuckles. Cold weather was your comfort zone, but something in the air felt… Different.

You pulled your camera bag onto your lap and fiddled with the settings. The night cityscape from the top of the building made for a nice shot, and it might ease your nerves to practice what you wanted to say in your mind before Hawks arrived. You stood, knelt, leaned, trying to get the composition just right when you sensed a presence behind you.

“Ayo! Getting started without me?”

“Geez, tell the entire neighborhood we’re up here!” you griped, turning off your camera.

Hawks laughed, took off his flight goggles and slid his headphones off to hang around his neck. “Not like we’re doing anything nefarious up here anyway! How ya been?” he asked, sitting down to lean against the half wall ledge next to you, konbini bag in tow.

“Fine, just getting a couple shots of the skyline,” you said before stowing your camera. “How are you?”

“Oh, you know. Same old stuff, chasing cliche thieves and villains. Come check out what I got for ya. Whatever you don’t like I’ll be happy to eat. Cool jacket by the way. Custom made?”

“Oh, this?” you gestured. “I modified it myself actually. All I did was take some cheap track jacket, cut a hole in the back and surged the edges. Well, and I dyed it black.”

“Let me see the back,” he asked, gesturing for you to turn around. You turned shyly, spreading your wings out to compliment the work you’d done. Hawks smirked, impressed. “Very nice. You sew then?”

You tucked your wings back in and sat next to Hawks. “I like to make or modify stuff for my wings at least. Tailors are expensive, plus sometimes I get the itch to do creative stuff.”

“That’s really cool. I may have to commission you for some of my ideas!” he said, pulling out a veritable buffet of konbini goodies. You chuckled.

“Geez, are we expecting guests?” You grabbed a pack of umaibo, one of your favorite crunchy snacks.

“Nah, I’m just a growing boy! Hero work burns a lot of calories, and I haven’t had a break since lunch!” he said as he tore into a famous Famichiki. He offered a second to you. “Saw these right next to the register and couldn’t pass ‘em up. Something about konbini fried chicken warms the soul, ya know?”

You took it, smiling. “These remind me of middle school.”

“Yeah?” he asked. “How so?”

“There was a Family Mart between school and home, I used to grab them all the time,” you said. “Glad you don’t mind being a cannibal.”

He laughed. “Right? People call me that all the time! We can’t help that we’re birds of prey!” His laughter warmed you. Or was it the hot food?

“I always wonder what school was like,” Hawks continued. “I was home schooled. Well, sort of. I never went to regular school at least.”

“You didn’t go to UA?” you asked. “I thought that was pretty much a requirement for pro heroes.”

He shook his head. “Nope, not for me at least. I might have liked to go there, but…” He looked into the distance. “Growing up wasn’t the best for me.”

You tilted your head and looked at him. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

He shrugged and sighed. “Eh, s’just how it is. Things are good now. I’m glad I don’t have to worry about stuff like where meals are gonna come from anymore, you know?”

You frowned. “Damn, it was that bad? I hate that.”

He polished off his chicken and stole some umaibo from your open bag. “Yeah, it was shitty but it didn’t last forever. But enough about me anyway. What’s your family like?”

“Mom was pretty quiet and Dad was super busy, so pretty typical family, I guess. Although I do have a twin brother.”

“Ooh, that’s cool. Where do they all live?”

“Up in Hokkaido,” you said, stealing back your umaibo.

“Damn, that’s far. Anywhere near Sapporo?”

“Mom’s near Date where I grew up, a couple hours southeast of Sapporo. Don’t really know where my dad is these days, and my brother’s way out in the middle of nowhere. He hates the city even more than me.”

“You hate the city?” he asked, leaning towards you.

You nodded. “Too much going on. The noise, the lights, the swarms of people… It’s a lot. My hometown was pretty quiet but there was no opportunity for work there. Sapporo would have been alright probably but… I just wanted a big change I guess, so I picked Fukuoka. So here I am, just trying to cope with my quirk.”

You surprised yourself with how much you said, chalking it up to Hawks’ comforting presence and being a good listener.

“Crazy that you moved across the whole country. Does your brother have a similar quirk?”

“Yep, almost exactly the same. His wings are pretty much pure white, almost no speckles like I have.”

“Ah, interesting,” he said. “You guys close?”

You gave a cynical chuckle. “Definitely not. I’m not really close with anyone.”

He tilted his head. “Not with anyone? Really?”

You shrugged, trying to avoid his eyes.

“No best friend?” he asked.

“When I was in school. But not anymore.”

“No boyfriend?” he asked incredulously.

You laughed darkly. “No, definitely not.”

Hawks furrowed his brow but smiled playfully. “You mean you’re not a total ball-busting heart-breaker?”

You snorted. “Hell no. Try chronically single.”

He chuckled. “I may be high on the public approval charts, but I’m afraid I suffer that fate too.” He tossed you some Winter Melty Pocky. “My excuse is that I’m always too busy, but I wouldn’t mind making time for someone special. Maybe someday when things settle down and villains don’t run the streets some angel will sweep me off my wings.” He had a wistful look in his eyes as he tore through another snack.

“Yeah, I guess I wouldn’t mind that either,” you said.

Your mind drifted back to your middle school days as you opened the Pocky. Your first kiss had been stolen by a rambunctious boy in your class who was dared to play the Pocky game. The popular girls turned him down, but you, not knowing the true intention of the game, waited patiently with the biscuit in your mouth. As his lips crashed against yours, you were confused, not lovestruck as you wanted your first kiss to be. The only kiss since then was a brief make out session at the only college party you ever attended. He tasted of cheap beer and tobacco, a combination that still makes your stomach turn. You never spoke again once winter break arrived, but at least the occasion was consensual.

As you munched on the bitter chocolate, you wondered what Hawks might taste like. You caught yourself and squeezed your eyes shut. Am I insane? I just met this guy two days ago!

“So, the other day you said you don’t trust heroes. Any particular reason why?” Hawks asked.

Your face grew tense. “A few. The hero market is pretty over-saturated these days.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, that might be true. But how does that affect your trust in them?”

You crossed your arms. “I’m not convinced there’s enough crime to go around. I think a lot of them probably take care of a couple high-publicity jobs and go home after an hour’s work.”

Hawks eyed you. “Have you looked at crime statistics recently?”

“Not since college.”

“You might be surprised at them. I’m not trying to say you’re wrong, but crime rates have changed a lot with quirks getting more common.”

“Yeah, and while quirks are a fine explanation for the crime increase and the overabundance of heroes, I’d rather it be police stopping crime. Doing it for the notoriety defeats a lot of the purpose in my eyes.”

“What’s the difference though?” Hawks asked, turning towards you. “Isn’t it good that crime gets stopped, period?”

You shook your head. “Doing something good just because you know people are watching? Seems a little hollow. To me, it’s more about integrity. Heroes should work behind the scenes more and focus on doing the right things when no one is looking.”

He nodded. “I completely agree. So how do you know they aren’t already doing that if all you see are their TV appearances?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but once you met Hawks’ golden eyes, your words died in your throat. Damn, you thought. He’s exactly right. He seemed to know it too, but he didn’t boast. He only continued to search your eyes, his lips upturned in a soft smile.

“So, what do I need to know for your camera?” Hawks asked as he opened a bag of spicy chips.

“First thing, you had better not get any of that spicy dust on it, or I’ll toss you off the roof,” you quipped. You might not mind a touch of spice, if it came from his lips.

“Your threat would be scarier if I couldn’t fly,” he said, attempting to steal one of your Pocky sticks. You swatted the back of his hand playfully.

“Uh-uh, if you wanted some Pocky you should have gotten two, bird brain,” you said, pulling out a stick and waving it to tempt him. “These are my favorite.”

Hawks pouted. “Aw, but spicy chocolate is so good!”

You briefly thought of putting the biscuit between your teeth to tease him with it, just like the old Pocky game, but you could never work up the nerve to be so bold. Instead, you held the stick in front of his mouth and rolled your eyes.

“Geez, if you’re gonna whine about it.”

“You sure?” he asked, holding your eye contact. You rested the Pocky against his lips. He smiled and gently bit the biscuit in half, then chased it with a spicy chip, then ate the other half of the Pocky. He hummed in delight as he licked the flavored dust off his fingers. You scrunched up your nose.

“That is so gross,” you said, laughing.

“Mm, the chocolate on those is even better than the regular ones! Definitely a good combo. You sure you don’t wanna give it a try?”

“Absolutely not, especially after you just licked your fingers!”

He gave a menacing smile and extracted a chip from the bag, loaded with spicy dust. “Come on now, just one won’t kill you.”

“Ugh, no way!” You pushed his arm away, giggling. He easily overpowered you and brought the chip dangerously close to your face. “That smells like fire, oh my gosh Hawks!”

You playfully shoved at each other, laughing as you tried to get the diabolical chip as far away as possible. Hawks feigned weakness and you grabbed his wrist, aiming the chip back towards his mouth. He chomped it, then lunged for you Pocky, snatching it out of your hand.

“You cheater!” you squealed, grabbing his other wrist and struggling with him for control.

“Ah! Damn girl, you’ve got some sharp claws!”

You looked at your hands, noticing your naturally black nails digging into his skin. You released him, suddenly guilty over the half moon marks left in his flesh.

“Oh, geez, sorry!” you yelped. Hawks just smiled and took out a piece of Pocky.

“No worries, I’m tough. I can handle a battle scar or two,” he said, holding the Pocky to your lips. “See, didn’t even break the skin.”

You took the Pocky with your teeth and turned away, cheeks warm. “Maybe I should have for stealing my treat.”

“Didn’t your parents ever teach you to share?” he asked with a gentle elbow to your side.

“They taught me to fend for myself! Now are we gonna goof off all night or we gonna get down to business? We do have work to do tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I just like making you laugh.” His smile made his eyes wrinkle. Your heart stuttered and you couldn’t help but smile too. He’s so pretty…

“Oh, but speaking of work, here’s the ear piece.” He pulled a device from his pocket and handed it to you. “Connect it to your phone and tomorrow while we’re on surveillance, we can talk to each other.”

You examined the compact device. “And what if I get sick of hearing you?”

He grinned and shrugged. “You can always turn down the volume and see how long it takes me to notice you aren’t listening.”

You laughed. “Alright, sounds good. Now, let’s get started with some camera stuff. Do you know what aperture is?”

Hawks pretended to rack his brain. “Hm, that company from the Portal games?”

“We’re gonna be here all night, aren’t we?”

He shrugged. “Only if you want to.”

next (part 3)

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Eighteen

Back in Clontarf, I perch at the gleaming, marble island while Jude prepares dinner. I watch him doing it with undisguised interest, because he cooks the way that I imagine he makes art, fully absorbed, with precision and confidence, and completely and utterly in the flow of his own enjoyment. He connects his iPhone to a Bluetooth speaker and plays music for a while, until Ivy bursts in and complains that she can’t focus on her homework with all of the noise.

He switches it off for her, but even in the silence he moves around to the beat of the music in his head, with a smile on his face that only endures the more stupid questions I ask him about what he’s doing. He’s making a spice mix in a pestle and mortar, he’s coating the fillets in flour, that’s actually rose water, not vanilla, yes, he taught himself how to do this, those flowers are actually totally edible, they’re not just there to look good, so a shallot is actually stronger than an onion, that’s why he’s using it. He prepared a lot of it earlier, marinating fresh fish in harissa for hours, and par boiling the potatoes so that they’d be oven ready by the time we got home from visiting Jen, and when I ask him where he found the time to do all of this he explains that he was simply procrastinating, because he doesn’t want to write his thesis. 

We eat at the dining table with Ivy, who shovels the food into her mouth in the span of about five minutes despite her complaints about it tasting bad, and gives a series of very bored, one word answers to his questions about school in between mouthfuls. He reminds her that she should practise for her piano lesson tomorrow and tells her that he can’t collect her from afterschool hockey so she’ll have to get the bus. It occurs to me that this is perhaps the most un-sibling like relationship I’ve ever witnessed. Perhaps it’s a symptom of their age gap. 

“Where’re your parents tonight?” I query once Ivy rushes off to her bedroom to reconvene whatever teen girl things were interrupted by dinner, and he looks down at his plate. “Working late again.”

“Seems like they really like to work.”

“They sure do. Or they really like not having to be in this house.”

He’s said things like this to me before, these kind of vaguely troubling statements about his parents in very casual, matter of fact ways, as though they’re entirely absent and have no love for each other whatsoever, and this is something he finds normal. I’ve never asked him about it before, and something I’ve never quite been able to handle the idea of broaching, but now, since we’re… kind of, sort of going out with each other it suddenly feels important to know whether his expectations for his own relationships are different to his parents’ strange marriage.  

“What is it about them?”

“We don’t have to discuss these grim things about my family, it’s alright.”

“We don’t have to, but I think I’d like to know about it.”

He pushes his food thoughtfully around his plate. “They just shouldn’t have gotten married, I suppose. I think they meant well initially but it’s ultimately done more damage than good.” He glances towards the closed door and up towards the ceiling, where his sister is, and lowers his voice a little bit. “I think they’ll probably get a divorce as soon as Ivy finishes school.”

“Oh.”

“I’m the reason they’re married, and she’s the reason they’re still together. They had this amazing idea at one point that having another child would solve all of their issues, but now they’ve just trapped themselves in a bind for an extra nine years. They could be blissfully divorced by now, but they won’t do it until she’s moved out, because they don’t want to disrupt her schooling.” 

“How old were they when you were born?”

“Nineteen and twenty one.” 

“Oh, God.”

“Yep, big mistake. Whoops.” he tosses a chunk of potato into his mouth and leans back in his chair. “Mom finished school and went to stay with her aunt in America, took up a job at a department store in Albuquerque, hooked up with a med student at a bar on her first month there, and well…” He throws up his hands in mock celebration. “Here I am!”

“I suppose that being unmarried with a child wasn’t really an option for your mother at the time.” 

“No, not at all, I mean, she had come from catholic Ireland. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to live at home again unless she married the man from that bar.” The way he speaks about his father is strange, as though despite his presence in their lives, he’s still some random, nameless med student from San Bernardino. 

“And then what?” 

“Well, then my dad continued school, and my mom began her studies and my great aunt took care of me on and off until my dad got his doctorate degree. Then they had Ivy, on purpose, by the way, and when she was a baby we moved back here.” He shrugs. “That’s all.”

I breathe out a laugh. “You’re so cagey.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah it’s like you don’t want to talk about them, or your home life, like, ever.”

He doesn’t look like he’s all that bothered by my interrogation, he just gives me this self-effacing little smile. “Come on, Evie. It’s because this stuff is boring.” 

“I don’t think it’s boring at all.” 

“Well, okay. They didn’t want to be together, they shouldn’t have had kids, and they act like they never did because they barely parented either one of us. Has anyone ever told you that you’re bad at letting things drop?”

“Yeah, loads. Has anyone ever told you that you’re bad at talking about serious things?”

“Of course.” The corner of his mouth quirks up and he lifts my arm from the table to kiss the inner part of my wrist. “Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?”

“Yes, you. Tell me what it was like for you when you were growing up.” 

“I’ve told you loads about my childhood already though.” 

“Yeah, you have, and I loved hearing about how badly behaved you were and what it felt like to live in America, but I wish you’d get into the guts of it, the real stuff.”

“The real stuff?”

“The stuff that makes you so clearly sad. You get that look on your face whenever it comes up.”

He hasn’t let go of my wrist, and now his thumb is gently stroking the skin that he kissed a moment before while he stares out into the garden through streak-free glass patio doors, and he chews on his lip before deciding to speak. “Well, when Ivy was born I stopped being a kid, I suppose. My parents didn’t have a lot of interest in caring for either of us, and I was lucky, because my great aunt in Albuquerque did all of that for them when I was little, but when we moved here the support system really fell away. Nobody had considered that. We have my mom’s parents, but they’re about as warm as she is, and even though we’d be dumped over to theirs at the weekends, it wasn’t like we had especially fun or memorable times. Usually we’d get some bucket of crap toys from the seventies and whatever was on the three TV channels that they had. They were okay, but Ivy was a really nervous toddler. She didn’t like being around unfamiliar people, to the point that our grandmother would have to roll her bottles down the hallway to where she was hiding at the bottom of the stairs so that she’d drink anything at all. She just screamed whenever either of our grandparents came near her. It just wasn’t working out, so we eventually stopped having to go, and by then, when I was like eleven, it just made sense that I’d look after her instead.”

“What did that involve?”

“Everything. Feeding her, dressing her, putting her to bed, shopping for food, toys, eventually bringing her to the creche. She used to go to the childminders while I was at school, but only until I finished at three or four o’clock, and then I’d swing by and get her. A child collecting another child, like, I don’t know if they’d let that kind of thing happen anymore, but it was a small family run childminders, the kind of lawless place where they have this one old granny looking after about twelve children in her house and everything and anything goes. My mom used to come home and cook dinner for a while, but she was delighted when I got old enough to do that for her too. It meant she could stay out of the house for longer and do whatever she used to do. Have affairs or whatever.” He huffs out a laugh. “I mean, I really don’t know if that was ever the case but I wouldn’t be that surprised. Everything got really confined because of Ivy, you know? I always had to be home, and helping, and collecting and living my life on this schedule while all the other teenagers were just being blissfully selfish and… just teenagers.”

“But you had time to yourself, surely?”

“Yeah, at night when my parents were finally home from work, but I mean, yeah, it wasn’t about not having time to do hobbies or hang out with my friends, it was about having to do it at all. It was about having to consider those things. Nobody should have to parent their siblings, it was really stifling and really unfair. If my parents wanted another child then they should have been prepared to take care of her. You can’t just offload that responsibility onto the older child. I resented it, and I still do.”

I spear my fingers into the side of his hair and run my hand down the back of his head. “That’s why you went to Berlin.” 

“I just didn’t want to do it anymore.”

“You shouldn’t have ever had to.”

“Right.” He hesitates and his teeth rake over his lower lip, pulling the skin until it’s taut and white. “I just feel like going to Berlin was the most selfish thing I could have possibly done though.”

“No way.” I say. “It forced your parents to do what they should have been doing all along, and look after your sister.” 

“Yeah but it didn’t really do that. I look at Ivy now, and she’s doing a lot of those things I used to do for her all on her own. My parents never stepped up like I hoped they would, so she’s just becoming another teenager with too many responsibilities, and parents that will divorce as soon as they can and leave her without a solid base to come home to when she’s in college. And then, you know, on the other hand I think about Jen, and how bad everything has become for her and I know that if I’d stayed, and if I’d been here for her then maybe I could have-”

“It’s no use thinking that, Jude. You had to be on your own for once. You can’t hold up the whole world on your shoulders.”

“I’m selfish.” His voice is acidic, and the moment I feel his fingers loosen on me I grab a hold of his sleeve, because all of a sudden it feels vitally important to keep a connection between us.

“You didn’t get a proper childhood. I’d be even more selfish if I were you. You need to be doing the things that you want to do, seeing the world, partying with your friends, all of that stuff that you’ve been doing for the last four years. It’s all food for your soul.” 

“You’re too forgiving of me. It’s okay to say that I’ve been generally inconsiderate.”

“You’re way too hard on yourself.” I say quietly. “And you know that’s not true. You’re a good person, and you were always so nice to me, even when I was quiet and shy. You made an effort to talk to me at that time that Jen invited me to that modern art exhibition in Dublin, and you made me feel so included and asked so many questions about me even though I felt so nervous around you both.”

“I feel like that’s the least anyone could have done.” He says sulkily, as though he doesn’t really feel like being talked out of his mood. “The more I dwell on it the more I think there is something seriously wrong with me. Something that should have been figured out a lot earlier, but like, here I am, a twenty two year old, in the final months of my final year at college and I feel a bit… I dunno, lost, or something. I’m floundering, and I don’t really know who I am anymore. I swore I had it figured out at eighteen but now that seems laughable to me.”

“Nobody tells you how weird it is to be in your twenties.” I declare. “They insist that it’s amazing and fun and you’ll have all of this independence, but actually it feels strange and vulnerable, and there’s no rule book about how to navigate your way through it. One day you’re a stupid teenager and the next you live on your own and you have to know how to use the city bus and remember the pin of a debit card.”

“Yeah.” 

“It’s alright that you find it hard, is all I’m saying, and I for one, feel like I truly knew nothing about being an adult. To be honest sometimes I get a bit freaked out by how lost I feel. But then I try not to think about it, and I just go on with my day.”

“That’s your advice?” He says, with the hint of a smile threatening to crack through the gloom. “Just don’t think about it?”

“Probably shouldn’t be, should it?”

“I think that’s terrible advice, Evie.”

“Well that’s all I have for you.”

He leans into me and lightly kisses my jaw before going back to his food, and the featherlight touch of his lips sends shivers right down to my toes. “Well I think we should think about hard things.” He says. “I think that ignoring them only gives them more power, actually.”

“Maybe some things aren’t meant to be processed now. They’re meant for later.”

“How much later?”

“I don’t know. Just later.” I push the last of my dinner onto my fork and into my mouth and try not to feel self-conscious about the fact that he’s watching me like I’m under a spotlight. 

“I just want you to know that if you ever wanted to talk to me about any of the things that happened you in first year then-”

My chair makes a hideous scraping noise against the parquet floor. “Do you have any pictures of you when you were small?” I say, wiping my hands on the thighs of my jeans, and he blinks. “Um. Why?”

“Just when we were talking about your childhood, like,” I stack his empty plate on top of mine. “I was wondering to myself what you might have looked like as a little boy. That’s all.”

“There are some, somewhere yeah. I can root them out if you want.”

“I’d love that, would you mind?” I hastily pack things away in the dishwasher, and I put the plates in crookedly, and I can’t find where the cutlery goes, and Jude is there, and he takes the forks out of my hands and gingerly places them into the sink. 

“It’s fine. Leave it.” He says. “Come into the living room, I’ll get the baby photos out.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[eliteseven]

(about consonance) so, spooky month and (I guess) it would be Serena and Shads' first Halloween, do they have any rituals prepared? like watching a horror movie every day, or making themed meals, a costume idea?? I love this month and I'm curious about these two, they're cute. Also, taking advantage of the fact that I rarely make asks here, I'm listening a lot to a band called The Warning, and there's a song that screams Nobleheart to me, it's called 'Show me the light' and I'm addicted to it.

Ooh well firstly, feel free to share anytime you feel like it 🥹💕 i love asks, they prevent me from actually working and that is the sweetest blessing

Some Consonance Spooky Season HC’s:

-Since it’s their first Halloween together I don’t think they’d have a full on house/cottage together yet. Maybe a shared apartment (I think they would live with the hallowleafs part of the time too tbh, but I do see them having their own shared space)

-I feel like Jen is super into the season (goes hand in hand with Shadowheart, tbh) ! Serena, being from the coast and all, hasn’t experienced proper seasons (at least since her mother passed, and the spirit of the holidays went with her….) and Jen is so eager to show her, especially now that she’s happy and Shar-less 🥹💕

-The domesticity??? Decorating their place together, spending chilly mornings bundled between the blankets??? Or Jen wrapping her scarf around Serena’s neck and drawing her in for kisses when they’re on walks? Having a pumpkin carving competition and flinging pumpkin innards at each other like stupid kids 🤭

-Jen being a fiend for horror movies- they watch one every night of the month. Serena doesn’t love them 😅 i don’t think she’s scared, tbh…let’s just say she didn’t really have the holiday spirit, prior to Jen, living alone. Jen kinda loves the adrenaline rush and it’s the perfect excuse to burrow into Serena’s warmth 😏 (not that she needs one).

Eventually, Jen inevitably gets distracted, or bored…. and suddenly remembers what (or whom) she’d rather be doing…😮‍💨 Tav loves movie night lmao

-Holiday cooking/baking!!! Jen can’t cook for shit- Tav isn’t much better, but she actually learns from Emmeline. Jen looooves to linger in the kitchen and distract Tav while she cooks Jen’s favorites. She sings for Tav sometimes 🥺💕 other times they share spiced wine and festive drinks and slow-dance in their kitchen. ….many dishes are burned along the way but neither of them really care. Jen wants to put a ring on this woman so badly, she never got to feel this way with Shar 😭🥰

Bonus: Jen learning that Tav’s mom used to make her holiday cookies (like the cute little pumpkin ones) and she spends an entire day trying to recreate them in some way, despite her atrocious skills in the kitchen. I genuinely think Tav would sob 🥺 she misses her mother every day and the fact that Jen went out of her way to give her a little piece of that happiness again???? Godddd Serena is so sickeningly in love with her, and vice versa.

-Jen debuting a skimpy little piece for a costume and Serena absolutely burning her hand holding whatever dish she was about to serve (worth it). Tav has always hated those corny couples’ costumes and suddenly she is very down to be whatever tf Jen wants. Cop and robber? Fine. Jen wants to be a vampire? Tav is her loyal thrall. Jen wants to be a cowgirl? She’s a damn horse, then 😭 Jen owns her, I’m afraid

-Isobel and Aylin probably throw the best parties, I feel like that’s where they’d be on Halloween, if not out and about touring. Everyone loves seeing Jen back to being social and coming to all the gatherings. She’s just…so happy and light, with Serena. Could def see Karlach and Wyll joining them for a group costume too tbh. (Mystery inc. ft. Their new puppy Scratch, perhaps???😭) I just love their little found family.

-More holiday festivities! Pumpkin patches, haunted houses (another excuse for Jen to hop on Tav’s back), bonfires at the Hallowleaf residence for all their friends 🥹💕 and ofc playing music together around the fire!

Re: “Show me the Light” by the Warning:

How cool!!! A sister trio!!!! 😮 so I gave it a listen and it was really beautiful!!! I like their vocals a lot, but man, the lyrics! I could see it from both of their perspectives, but particularly the “make me a rebel, stealer of your heart” feels like Tav imo, while “hold me please, never leave/need a daily poisoning” is very Shadowheart. That was just my initial interpretation for them though, I love it! I will put it on the NLS/Nobleheart playlist I have! 😁🥰 thank you so much for the rec, I love songs for writing inspo!!!!

[quibbs126]

I’ve moved on to drawing characters’ parents now, because I just want to keep drawing character and shirking what I actually need to do

Okay that’s partially a lie, I am writing a PowerPoint thing with my notes (though so far it hasn’t gone much farther than appearances), but still, I guess I’m doing this now

Oh and also, I switched over to my normal marker pen because the thing I was using for the lineart, my normal sketching pen, gives me no real line weight, and it was bothering me so much. Though I might still switch again, likely over to the syrup pen, at least to try it out

So anyways, first up we have Norma, and now (tentatively) Juliet, Marcus and Julian’s parents

I had already designed their grandpa, might as well draw the parents too

So I don’t really know what Norma and Julius’ original roles were, they probably didn’t have any, but they were around, and Norma was outgoing while Julius more reserved and probably smart. Then I considered having them be dead, which I still might do, but I also don’t know

I am thinking though that the two are archaeologists or something, and that if they’re alive, they’re just out traveling for work, and someone else watches their kids (if Marcus and Julian aren’t adults I guess). In retrospect I’m realizing I could have had Anya be that, but oh well

So I’ve mentioned that Marcus and Julian are supposed to have half markings, half white fur, so basically here Norma has the white fur, while Juliet has the markings, like her dad

I also decided that Norma has some extra hair color at the end, mostly just to give her a bit more spice

One thing you may have also noticed is that originally, Juliet was named Julius, and that yesterday I said Jules had a son that was Marcus and Julian’s dad. Well today while drawing her and giving her long hair, I decided “you know what, screw it, Julius is a woman now”, and so now she is

And also by which I mean, I didn’t just flip her gender, she’s transfem. She eventually realized she was a woman and is much happier living as one with her wife. Not sure if she transitioned before or after their kids, but they’re probably chill with it

Admittedly I’m still working out what her new name would be, and I just slapped on Juliet so that I have a name. I was asking my Cookie Run Discord server for help, since I didn’t know who else to ask, but I didn’t really like the suggestions, so Juliet’s her tentative name right now

But I don’t really like Juliet much either, it really does sound to me like a poorly thought out genderbend name, like Sonic to Sonia or Sonica, you get what I mean. Slap a bow on and they’re now a woman

See the problem is, when I originally named the parents, it was sort of supposed to be like they mashed together their names in some way to make their kids’ names. Marcus and Julian coming (somewhere) from Norma and Julius. Not only that, but as I’ve now decided, the lavender hair side of the family has a naming convention of Jul-, so I wanted to stick with that, hence Juliet. So Juliet here has to somehow fit in with those rules. Honestly I’m thinking of changing Norma’s name alongside Juliet’s, to see if I can think of something better for both

Wait crap, I’ve gotten sidetracked. I still have some more to say about Juliet here, but just know that I don’t really like her name and it will likely change, along with Norma, and let’s move on

One thing I have thought about when it comes to Juliet is that she personally has issues with her own father, Jules. He was distant due to the Striker project and they never really saw eye to eye (Jules did care about her, he just didn’t say it out loud to her). It’s part of the reason she works in archaeology, because in her eyes it’s the antithesis to science, which is looking into the future, while she looks into the past

It’s not really that important, but her feelings and resentment towards her father would probably have some role in the Striker story, especially since Striker’s confusing Julian for Jules

Anyways, on to the last person, Anya

Straight up, she’s just here because I needed a third person to put here, and she’s supposed to be Nina’s mom, so

She was originally dead, but I’ve now decided she’s not, I have too many dead parents, she and Erik are just divorced for reasons. Maybe Erik later realized he was gay or something. Nina lives with Erik most of the time due to wanting to be a doctor like him, but she visits her mom on the holidays. I don’t know

I feel like she and Norma ended up looking similar due to the white fur, but they have white fur for different reasons. Norma has it for her sons’ marking weirdness, and Anya has it because Nina has white fur and I was trying to show that it came from her mom’s side instead of the albino weirdness it originally was (because I didn’t understand albinism at the time). Unfortunately I decided to put them on the same page, so their similarities are incredibly obvious

As I stated earlier, maybe I could make Norma and Anya related, like I don’t know, they’re sisters and Anya looks after Norma’s kids while she’s out. Though that means that Anya and Erik are probably living in the same town. I mean, I guess that can happen with divorced couples, I’m not really familiar with how they work, but to me it feels like they should be living in separate towns or something, I don’t know

Also it again brings the problem of “character who already has cousins on one side now has cousins on another”, just now with Nina instead of the other three. I guess cousins are somewhat common (I wouldn’t know, I don’t have any, at least not first cousins), but I feel like I’m using it too much. Granted, right now it really is only Nina, Mercury, Venus and Saturn that have it, so maybe not

I don’t know, forget about Anya. She’s not important and I didn’t really think about her when making her, I literally just needed a third person because I had made Norma and Juliet

And so yeah, I guess that’s it for today’s characters. Not that great, I need to think more on these characters before I draw them. I think I’ve got too much energy now and I don’t spend enough time thinking on things first, just drawing like crazy

[fabeong]

Ascension - a SWTOR short (2)

When the Sith walked onto the bridge where Andronikos was pouring over the flashing console he only glanced up once. Then his mind registered what he saw seeing and he looked up again – because the Sith wasn’t wearing her helmet. In the dim light of the cave on Tatooine he had seen the basics; green scarred skin, diamond face tattoos, glowing yellow eyes. But here, under the bright light of the ship her features were illuminated and Andronikos couldn’t help but stare a bit.

She really was small, with skin the colour of a forest like Endor’s, and short black hair tied back in various places with basic decorations, and those scars – if Andronikos didn’t know any better he would think someone had pushed the Sith’s face into barbed wire. But damn if she wasn’t still kinda pretty, and those yellow eyes stared right back at him with a defiance that made something shiver down his spine like an electric jolt.

“Nice ship.” He said. With the silence broken the Sith came in properly, approaching the console he had been inspecting.

“You think you can fly this as well as your own?”

“Heh. I can fly anything, trust me.” Andronikos smirked, patting the consoles. The Sith’s cheeks twitched like she didn’t know how to smile, and his curiosity overtook him. “What’s the story, Sith? Seems like you know all about me and I don’t know nothing about you. You always a sicko or you just kind of fall into it, like I did?”

The Sith exhaled something close to a chuckle and fell gracefully into the captain’s chair; she peered up at him with those yellow eyes and for a moment he wasn’t sure if she would reply. But then she shrugged.

“I didn’t really have much choice.” She said. “My parents were slaves. I was a slave. Originally I was meant to be something like a housemaid, for cooking, cleaning, and… personal use.” She tossed the phrase out so casually, raising her eyebrows, and Andronikos rolled his eyes. He got the insinuation.

“But?”

“But I kept hitting back. Eventually the family… devalued me,” she gestured lightly to her face and the spiderweb of scarring, “and sent me to Kessel, to the spice mines there. Do you know it?”

Andronikos frowned – he knew Kessel well enough, and he knew the typical work and fate of the slaves one saw in those mines.

“Rough place.” He ventured, and the Sith chuckled in agreement.

“Most don’t last a year. I was there for two. Then one day the overseer was lashing me harder than he should have and…” her voice trailed off, and her gaze fell to her hands. She flexed them, and Andronikos heard the crackle of electricity, saw the sparks jump across her fingertips. He looked back up at the Sith’s face, grinning.

“Tell me you killed him.”

“One moment he was raising the whip again and the next… well, his ashes were getting all blown into the spice. I couldn’t explain what I’d done, but I remember the way everyone looked at me. One of the higher-ups must have seen, because I was handed over to the Sith just days later.”

“So here you are.”

“So here I am.”

“Funny how those Sith work.” Andronikos leant back against the ship’s wall, deciding to return the favour of a story, “I was an accountant on Moneylend when I decided I wanted a little more adventure. So I put a blaster to the head of the Intergalactic Banking Clan and walked off with a few million credits.” Just to illustrate the tale he spun his blaster out its holster and raised it at the Sith, who didn’t even blink. If anything, the twitch of her mouth solidified into the closest thing to a smile he’d seen so far. Andronikos grinned too. “Been robbing and murdering ever since.”

“Well it sounds like you made a good start. Just don’t put a blaster to my head.” Her words came out as a murmur, lovely and low without the distortion of the helmet.

“Don’t worry, Sith.” Andronikos smirked, holstering his weapon again, “I got a good survival instinct.”

There was no doubting it now, the Sith’s lips curled upwards into a smirk of her own.

“Me too.”

He paused, her yellow eyes and placid smirk filling his vision; but then a snarl came from somewhere else in the ship and the Sith looked over her shoulder, her face falling back into a guarded frown. “Khem Val. I should go.” Andronikos shook his head as she got to her feet and began to leave.

“You’ve got to tell me how you got that beast sometime.”

She paused in the doorway, looking back at him and holding up her electric hand. “Another time. I promise.”

Then the Sith was gone, her footsteps echoing through the ship and leaving Andronikos with the consoles. Promise, huh? He wouldn’t have pinned her down as a woman so easy to talk to, but he couldn’t deny the promise of more conversations… wasn’t bad. Maybe he’d even find out her name next time.

Sith. Andronikos shrugged, turning back to the ship controls. Never can figure them out.

[justwannaflex]

(—) ★ spotted!! HAZEL BHAGYARAJ on the cover of this week’s most recent tabloid! many say that the 27 year old looks like SIMONE ASHLEY, but i don’t really see it. while the SINGER is known for being OPTIMISTIC my inside sources say that they have a tendency to be EXCESSIVE i swear, every time i think of them, i hear the song DANCE THE NIGHT BY DUA LIPA {she+her / cisfemale}

Headline

I want fabulous, That is my simple request, All things fabulous, Bigger and better and best, I need something inspiring to help me get along, I need a little fabulous is that so wrong?

Stats

name: hazel bhagyaraj

age: 27

nicknames: z, hals , ellie

date of birth: 1996

place of birth: Perth (Australia)

nationality : indian & australian

gender identity: cis woman (she/her)

sexuality: pansexual

family : parents and 1 older sibling

occupation: singer

career claim: ginger spice

net worth : 14M $

spoken languages : english and tamil

positive traits: optimistic, hardworking, resourceful, caring, free spirited, inventive

negative traits: envious, excessive, bossy, compulsive, frivolous, prideful

characters/celebrities inspo: tba

zodiac sign : tba

Bio

Hazel was born in Perth (Australia) to Indian immigrant parents. She's the second child of the family. She grew up middle class with an engineer mother and a university teacher father. She had a comfortable life and went to private schools. It is where she grew envious of the children of wealthier family. She never lacked anything and had a great life but she always wanted more. She knew she was destined for something bigger.

After graduating high school, she moved to Sydney to start an acting and modelling career. She got a few jobs in commercials and catalogues. She even starred as an extra or a tiny role in a few soaps, shows and films but nothing big. She never got cast in anything important. Still she knew she would make it somehow so she persevered.

Until her father got into an accident. She agreed to move back to Perth to help her mother take care of him since her career was not going anywhere. After her father got better, she wanted to move again but covid hit, stopping her. After the pandemic, she had lost her momentum and decided to quit acting to become an influencer or a singer.

Hazel worked in Louis Vuitton's shop in Perth before being picked to be a spice girl. She spent all day serving the clients she wished she could be. On her freetime, she posted videos and sang at luxurious venues. She was building followers and she kept hoping to be the next big thing. One evening, she was singing at Perth's Ritz-Carlton when a producer noticed her. That was her big break. Six months later she became a superstar.

Now she lives the life she always aspired to and is obsessed with staying relevant. She is doing everything to keep the spotlight on her.

Career

After being a failed model, actress and influencer, Hazel is now ginger spice on the global girlband sensation that is the Spice girls.

The group reached stardom two years ago. She has been living the dream ever since. She makes cameos in movies and tv shows. She went from being an employee to a Louis Vuitton's brand ambassador. She is always at a party, an award, on set, or on tour. She never takes a minute for herself. She has to keep moving and keep eyes on her. She is not the easiest to work with and push the people around her to high standards. She is starting to build herself a diva reputation and is trying to control her image

[theladyragnell]

For the three sentence ficlets: ACoFaF, the bird cousins and "The Baroness' Revenge", should that strike your fancy

(I didn't have much to say about this one that wouldn't have gotten into Explicit Land, which I wasn't in the mood for tonight, so have a ficlet with some of that implied!)

Chirp’s first sign that something has perhaps gone wrong during her visit to her family in the Mortal Realm is that she tries to take a drink of wine and tastes only sea water. In the spirit of science, she takes another sip. “Cousin,” she says, turning to Squak, who’s grimacing his way through his own glass, “it seems to me that perhaps someone has sabotaged your bottle of wine.”

“Just keep drinking,” he says, waving a hand. “It still gets you drunk, I have discovered over the past few days, it just tastes like the sea.”

Not just one bottle, then. If Squak had been on the same bottle of wine for three days, something truly would be gravely wrong. “Perhaps we could buy something new?”

“Oh, I’ve tried that. Then I bring it back to the next, and it’s sea water.”

Chirp considers that in silence for a moment. “Do you think that perhaps, cousin, this has something to do with, well. With the Seafoam Court? Or people within it?”

“Perhaps, cousin? Certainly, I would say. The first bottle of wine came with the compliments of Baroness Alven.”

“Ah.” Chirp puts her glass down. She’d like to be drunk, but not at this cost. “Your suitable but not suited match. She intends to hold you to your promise? Grandfather may have given us leniency, but I don’t know if he’ll allow it if she sues you for breach.”

“Blackmail would add a certain spice or our relationship,” Squak says, and they both consider that for a moment. He isn’t wrong, really. Still, it would be inconvenient at the orgies, if they were caught in some kind of vengeance duel. Squak seems to come to the same conclusion, because he sighs. “No, it will never do. I’ll simply have to fake my death. Do you think Grandfather would rename me Viscount of Peckerton?”

Chirp frowns. “That doesn’t seem likely to help. I don’t suppose you could, well, do as I did with Prince Andhera, could you? That is, put her off while making her think you care? You could tell her, quite rightly, that everything about Apollo was simply a ruse. Surely she would appreciate a ruse! Especially as he’s dead.”

“Then she might ask why I haven’t written to arrange our wedding.”

“You could at least talk to her. Esmé is a great believer in talking about things, and it does seem to work.”

Squak sighs and finishes his glass of salt wine. “I suppose it’s the only option I have left.”

*

Chirp stays around, partly to make sure Squak doesn’t ruin the beverages in the nest for the next several centuries and partly because she does love a good scandal. As soon as the baroness gets the message Squak sends (with a tern, of course, Squak wisely considers that a sea bird might soften her heart), the thing with the beverages stops, so at least it’s not too onerous waiting.

Baroness Alven, when she arrives, is dressed to kill, enough to make Chirp sigh a little over being married. “Lady Featherfowl,” she says, barely inclining her head. “I hope you have been well since the Bloom.”

“Oh, you know me, always in the beak of health!” Baroness Alven raises her eyebrows. “Do go easy on him, won’t you?”

She sniffs a little. “I haven’t once expected fidelity. Why should I? But I expect respect, and I expect information. And now I expect an apology. On bended knee.”

“I do hear he’s very good on his knees,” Chirp says encouragingly, and leaves them to it.

*

Chirp doesn’t see or hear anything about either of them until Baroness Alven comes out to drink tea for breakfast, looking very self-satisfied. “I do hope that our families can be on better terms again, after whatever negotiations you and my cousin engaged in last night?” she inquires.

“Negotiations were satisfactory, yes. I have an invitation to the next orgy. Perhaps I’ll see you there, Lady Featherfowl?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Chirp assures her, toasts her with her teacup, and moves on to discussing other gossip.

[incapableclown]

The Sims Mega-Legacy

The Sims has been my go-to guilty pleasure since I was a little girl and the first game came out. I remember begging for the expansion packs for my birthday or Christmas, and setting a timer to take turns with my sister and always trying to sneak a few extra minutes.

Decades later, I’m still playing. I don’t have to take turns with my sister anymore, and I don’t spend all my free time meticulously controlling my Sims’ lives anymore. But I still love the game.

But that’s the thing - I’ve always meticulously played out all of the details of my Sims’ lives, but I always picked the same things. I almost always started with a single YA female, who almost always enjoyed gardening and painting. She almost always got a job as a writer or painter or educator, and she almost always married (or at least had a relationship) with Thorne Bailey or Akira Kibo. She always had just one or two kids, and the kids were always A students who had earned all the Top Notch traits. I’d abandon the family after 2 or 3 generations, always starting over with a new file and vowing to switch it up this time, but I’d do the same thing within a few in-game weeks. I got bored, but I was stuck in a rut.

I was determined to love the game like I did when I was a kid again, even just for a little bit.

I discovered mods and started having fun exploring the game again. MCCC became my new obsession, and I slowly branched out (but still have so many more I’d like to try!). I was thrilled when I discovered instructions on how to download Sims from the Gallery and have MCCC populate them into my game! It always made me chuckle a bit to be out in town and run into Patrick Dempsey, or Hasan Piker, or Mr. Bean. I started a Not-So-Berry Challenge and had a lot of fun with that, but I felt like I wasn’t utilizing all of the packs and wanted to really do some things I hadn’t done in-game before.

So I started thinking - what were my biggest complaints about how I was playing the game recently? I came up with three main issues:

I was stuck in a perpetual Same-Sim Syndrome cycle. I didn’t play with mean Sims, or elder Sims, or big families. I didn’t pay attention to the household descriptions of the premade Sims, so the lack of storyline gameplay was even more amplified.

I felt rushed to complete the goal, whether it be Aspiration or work or relationship. Not every kid is an A student, not every adult makes it to the top of their career, and not every relationship lasts forever. Why was I forcing that standard on my Sims? In a game that’s supposed to be fun?

I lost attention and interest when playing the same family for a while, but felt nervous to play another family in the same file in case things were messed up when I came back. I was micromanaging the fun out of it.

I thought of a few things to try to spice up the game, like trying to find another updated legacy challenge to play, or finding a kind of scenario spinner. I decided to play a scenario on a new file to try it out, and then I saw a TikTok of someone showing off their family tree, which they’d created using an external app. That caught my attention, and I abandoned my search for a new gameplay style to go meticulously record my Sims on a family tree. It was fun going through and organizing everything, and seeing the connections, but I was annoyed that I couldn’t go back far enough in-game to grab family tree info about my Sims’ ancestors.

So I - you guessed it - started a new save file. I threw together my standard Single YA Female and moved her into a house, but I didn’t play her. I immediately started going through each household in the game to record the family members in my family tree app. I decided I would just record what happened (via Neighborhood Stories/MCCC Population Notifications) in the family tree while I focused on my family; I was interested to see how long it would take for all the tiny family groups (and yes, I included single unrelated sims!) to eventually be able to be found on one another’s family tree branches.

I was about two thirds of the way through my third day of recording Sim family tree info. My project had expanded exponentially; I’d taken some time to build a handy spreadsheet to track Sim data and assign a “birthday” to each Sim, once I’d decided that 1. It was annoying leaving that field blank in the app, and 2. It was annoying that a Young Adult Day 0 could have a teenaged child, when with my lifespan settings that would mean they were Child aged … it creeped me out once I realized and I couldn’t ignore it! That meant I had to assign the age to each Sim, and when I was doing that, I realized I had an MCCC setting on that moved out non-ancestral elders into “group homes”, and I wanted to fix it. I had to look up some Sims on the Wiki to make sure I was placing them back into the right household, and then I found it.

The lore.

(Quick pause - my phone autocorrected that to “the lord”, and I lost it - imagine reading this far, only for me to have been setting up some insane segue into proselytizing?!)

The lore, you guys. I knew it existed but never played with townies, so I never looked it up. I’ve been missing out! I know the Sims 4 storytelling system is trash, but imagining some of the connections with the old Sims 2 storytelling system is my new fixation.

I’m gonna try to do it myself.

I get bored playing one type of Sim family - why not play EVERY household? I always pick the same careers and aspirations, so why not just have a premade Sim with a pre-destined path to play through some stuff I’ve never done? I never play with all the features of all the expansions I have (which is everything except Batuu), because I feel like I’m wasting time my Sim should be focused on completing a task, so why not take that pressure away?

I’m gonna play the whole file. I’m not going to have “my” Sim and the others, I’m going to play all of the families. I’m going to read the household descriptions, read the Wiki to learn the lore, and I’m going to let the story lead me.

I’m sure this isn’t a novel idea, but it’s something I’ve never attempted. I’m excited to start, but I’m still setting up my save file, adjusting for realistic ages and adding family connections that don’t exist in-game, but that exist in the Sims canon universe (and some that don’t!). Since I’m tracking the data anyway, I’m thinking I’ll share my data here. I hope someone besides me finds this interesting - I’m planning to share family tree data, Sim statistics, new and existing “lore”, and maybe some gameplay updates.

My first post will be a walkthrough of the Sims that I added to my file so that I could make the appropriate canon family connections. I hope you have fun following along!