#so i had to go brand by brand (i had it mostly narrowed it down to knitpro but still wanted to look at other brands like lykke)

[minglana]

after 2hrs or so of searching and research on one (1) website i think i have found a decent pair of knitting needles that i wont feel guilty abt my mom buying them for me <3 yippeeee

[charliemwrites]

Woof woof grrrrrr

Content: Dub-Con, Dirty Talk, Oral Sex (reader giving)

The bar is exactly as busy as you’re hoping for when you get there. Quiet and intimate, low lights, a hum of conversation but not overwhelmingly loud. The bar is mostly full but not crowded. As luck would have it, you instantly spot a couple empty stools towards the back.

You glide across the establishment, head held high and shoulders back. Pick a seat and smooth your skirt under you to perch. The bartender comes to you instantly; you pick something sweet and fruity (delighted that it’ll match your outfit.)

It takes up until they slide it across to you — a tab opened with your card — that the insecurity starts to set in. What if no one is interested? What if Soap doesn’t show up?

You sip at your drink and pull out your phone, reading your latest book. If nothing else… at least you’re getting out? God.

“This isn’t your usual scene.”

Oh. Oh this is worse than being ignored all night and going home alone. So much worse. Just barely manage not to curse aloud as you turn to your ex.

“Justin…” you start, realize you don’t know where to go from there. “Hi.”

“It’s been a minute, huh?”

You look him up and down. Designer everything, of course, brands printed all over him. No taste, though, none of it is cohesive. You wouldn’t be caught dead at his side ever again.

“How’s your arm?”

His expression flickers, hand unconsciously going to the spot where Johnny tried to tear it off.

“Fine. Thanks.” He gives you a long look. Unfriendly. “You know people have had dogs put down for less.”

You run your tongue over your teeth, fear and anger twisting up in your stomach like hot lava. How dare he threaten your boy like that?! Wish Johnny was here now to take another chunk out of him.

“Not when people trespass on private property,” you reply coldly, eyes narrowing.

He puts his hands up, laughing awkwardly. “Well, now. I wouldn’t call it — let’s just say we’re even, yeah?”

“For that at least.”

You take another big sip of your drink. Find it empty. Make hopeful eye contact with the bartender and nod for another when they gesture questioningly. There’s a reason you love this bar.

“Right… listen, about that, luv…”

“There you are, bonnie!”

You perk up despite yourself. Says something that the creep who sexually harasses you in public is better company than your ex-fiancé. Something zings through you when you realize Soap is bigger than your Justin (hopefully in every aspect). Taller, wider, more muscular. Better jawline and prettier eyes, too.

“Tucked up back here like this,” Soap mock scolds, shouldering past Justin. You let out a little squeak as he scoops you off your barstool, hand just under your ass for a hold. “Almost didn’t see you, hen.”

“H-Hi,” you say, arms going around his neck automatically. He presses his nose to your collarbone and audibly inhales. You shiver.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he continues, voice dropping lower.

He sets you down on your stool again with a wink, then takes the stool next to yours.

“Oi, do you mind?” Justin snaps, bumped out of the way by Soap’s bulk.

“I do, actually.” The look Soap levels him is sharp, cold. Bloody killer. Instantly reminds you of all the alarm bells that normally play in your head when he’s around. “Don’t like puffed up knobs like you around my girl.”

You bite your tongue on a protest that you’re not his girl. Wouldn’t be particularly helpful right about now. You’ll correct him later.

“Your girl,” Justin scoffs. “She was mine before she was ever — hey!”

Soap’s got his fist in the front of Justin’s shirt, jerking him nearly off his feet. A few heads turn. You feel hot with embarrassment, skin prickling at so many eyes on your little trio of stupidity.

“Woah!” You yelp. “Soap!”

You grab his forearm (remind yourself not to get distracted by the muscles cording it) and lean into his line of sight. The near-murderous glint in his blue eyes softens, though there’s still an unnatural sheen to them. Something that makes the hair on the back of your head stand on end.

“Soap, let him go,” you say, quiet. “I like this bar, don’t get us kicked out… please?”

He hums, instantly drops Justin to cup his hand around the back of your neck, fingers edging into your hair. His palm feels so big and harm, a little rough with callouses. You try not to think about how easy it would be for him to manipulate your head however he wants…

“Like when you say ‘please,’ hen,” Soap purrs.

You swallow, feel your cheeks flushing as you say, “Then… you should sit down and have a drink with me. Please?”

He grins, crooked and a little mean. “Anythin’ fer you.”

He drops into his stool again like a king on his throne. You perch gingerly on your own, waving Justin away like an annoying fly. Don’t even look as he slinks off, too busy staring at Soap. Who’s… busy staring at you. As always.

“You never called,” he drawls after ordering. Whiskey, neat. The bartender sets your new drink in front of you; you start sipping to gather your thoughts and nerve. “Lucky I happened to stop in here, eh? Imagine if I’d walked past…”

You grimace a bit. A fantastic bit of luck, that. Thought you’re still not sure what type of luck.

Definitely not going to admit to him that you didn’t call on purpose, wanting plausible deniability if you did see him. As if trying to get him under your skirt by happenstance is better than calling him to do it.

“Why did you stop in here?” You ask, looking to change the subject.

“Could smell you,” he answers, eyes twinkling.

You wrinkle your nose, kick at his shin. Want to blame it on the alcohol, but you drink red wine most nights of the week. This is just… placebo and desperation.

“You’re so nasty, you know that?” You huff.

He arches his eyebrows, grins wolfishly. “Could show you how nasty I can be,” he offers.

You wrinkle your nose even as your cheeks burn. That’s exactly what you’re hoping for.

“You can’t keep talking to me like that,” you complain.

He snorts in amusement, hooking his fingers beneath your stool and tugging you closer. Until your knees are between both of his, jeans brushing against your thighs.

“Here’s the thing, darlin’,” he murmurs, low and private. “I think you like when I talk to you like that.”

You swallow audibly, hands dropping down to twist nervously in your lap.

“I think it makes your pretty pussy all wet and swollen when I get all mean like this,” he continues. You shake your head; his palm clamps down on your thigh beneath your skirt, thumb sweeping back and forth over the sensitive skin. “Think she’s fuckin’ aching fer me to make good on all my promises. And you can get all shy and sweet here, but I bet all your cunt wants is to be mounted and bred like a bitch in heat.”

And he’s right. Of course he’s fucking right. That goddamn bad guy fantasy and your shallow, needy pussy, and Soap’s stupid fucking everything.

You feel like you’re about to explode when the bartender sets his whiskey down, snapping the tension like a rubber band. Feel dizzy as you lean away, sipping desperately at your own drink in an attempt to cool off. He gives you all over maybe fifteen second before opening that sinful mouth again.

“So how about it, bonnie? Did I hit the mark?”

You feel frustrated tears pricking at your eyes. Blink and look away at your nervous hands.

“I-I don’t even know you,” you mutter. “You could be dangerous.”

“I am dangerous, baby,” he replies, “just not to you.”

You shake your head. “You’re awful.”

“Mm and you want me to do awful things to you.”

You sigh through your nose, that little logical voice blaring again. He’s going to hurt you. He’s going to use you.

(Would that be so bad, if you go in knowing it?)

A tug at your necklace startles you out of your thoughts, his finger hooked beneath the pendant. You lean in with a noise of protest, afraid he’s going to break it. Gasp as your lips brush his.

“Whatever’s goin’ on in that pretty head, let me fuck it out of you.”

You shudder, hand balanced on his thick, muscular thigh. Can feel a twitch near your thumb. Holy shit.

“I’ll be so good to you, princess,” he promises. “Let me be good to you.”

You suck in a breath. Now or never.

Well, if nothing else, maybe you’ll let Johnny eat him if he’s turns out to be a bastard.

“Prove it,” you breathe.

He guides your chin up, eyes blazing with hunger.

“Yeah?” He asks.

You blink, muster up your courage. “You heard me. Or are you back out?”

His expression goes deliciously dark. “Oh, I’ll prove it, lass. You just sit right here and I’ll get us sorted.”

His fingers slip just that last little bit up and start teasing at the lace of your panties. You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to sip at your cocktail while he flags down the bartender. His nails scrape lightly across the fabric over your clit as gets your card and throws down enough cash to cover all three drinks.

When he pulls his hand away, you have to bite back a whimper.

“If you don’t get up right now, I’m haulin’ you out of here over my shoulder,” he growls in your ear.

You’re up in an instant, smoothing down your skirt. His hand stays glued to your lower back as he ushers you out to the lot. Sits you down in the passenger seat of a black pickup, barely waits for you to buckle yourself in before peeling out of the lot.

You’re about to tell him your address when you hear the clink of a belt, a zipper. Eyes wide as they drop to his pants, to him fishing a huge, hard cock out of jeans.

“C’mere,” he near snarls.

“Soap, that’s not— mph!”

The head of his cock catches on your teeth, but that only seems to spur him on, hips twitching.

“Gonna ruin that pretty makeup, your pretty hair. Gettin’ all dolled up like that for any fucking wanker to see.”

He twists his fingers in your hair and presses you down, your cheek rubbing against the shaft. He feels huge and unnaturally hot. You press your thighs together as you imagine how it’s going to feel inside of you.

“This isn’t safe,” you complain, mouth open as you gasp against the flushed skin.

He curses, tugs you up so that your lips press against the head, already dripping. Your eyes widen in the darkness, shocked and flattered that you’ve already worked him up this much.

“Not gonnae let anything happen,” he promises, “but you need to convince me not to spank this pretty ass black and blue.”

You squeal as he releases you hair just to deliver a harsh smack to one ass cheek, the sting making you clench up.

“H-hey!”

“You want me to slap that pretty pussy too? Bet I could make you cum just tapping that little clit over and over again. That what you want, slag?”

“N-no!”

“Then show me.”

You seal your mouth around the head, sucking and licking at the precum beading at the tip. Try to brace yourself, nearly gag as he hits a pothole and shoves into your throat. It’s noisy and messy, eyes watering from how thick and deep he is already, not letting you up for more than brief gasps of air.

“Fuck, that’s it baby. Work your tongue just like that…” he groans.

You lose track of everything but trying not to gag, his threat lingering with each obscene slurp and twist of your tongue. He tastes better than you expected, and the scent of him surrounds you. Musk and pine, something familiar that niggles at your cock-drunk brain. Can’t be bothered to work it out though, not when he’s tugging your hair. Not when he comes to an abrupt stop and you deepthroat him.

He yanks you off with a near-animal growl. You whine, scrambling to brace yourself and panting. Your head feels foggy. Know your panties are soaked through; shocked you’re not dripping down your leg. If you were sitting properly, you’d probably leave a wet mark on the seat.

You moan as his mouth crashes into yours, tongue sweeping inside like he owns it. He licks the taste of himself off your tongue, hands fumbling your seatbelt off, dragging you over the center console to straddle his lap.

You gasp at the sight of his rock hard, angry cock next to your pretty dress, pressed up against your stomach. Show just how deep he’ll be inside your guts.

“Fuck, look’it that,” he groans rutting against your stomach. “Oh you were made to be mine.”

You scream as he scoops you up, stepping out of the truck with you over his shoulder.

“Soap!” You shout. “Soap, put me down, my dog—”

“I’m your fuckin’ dog,” he replies.

“No, seriously, he’s protective—”

He grabs the spare out of its hiding place and shoves the door open. You brace for angry barking and growls, but hear nothing. Soap doesn’t even pause. He just kicks the door shut and storms down the hall to your room, like he knows exactly where he’s going.

He drops you onto the bed, watches your breasts bounce as you settle on the mattress. He strips off int he blink of any eyes while you’re still catching your breath.

“W-wait, wait, my—”

He flips you onto your stomach, hikes your ass up high in the air. You squirm, try to crawl away, but he slaps your ass so hard you see stars. He places his palm flat between your shoulder blades to bin you still.

“S-Soap,” you whine as he shoves your skirt up over your ass, palms a cheek. Spreads you open just to let the flesh jiggle back into place.

“Fuck,” he growls. It sounds off. Sounds deeper, rougher now.

“Just-just slow down…!”

He yanks your panties aside, plunges two thick fingers into you. You squeal, legs kicking uselessly against the mattress.

“Oh, you’re plenty ready,” he says, dark, almost to himself. “All ready to be mated and bred. All mine.”

That finally starts to break the lust-drunk haze. Open your mouth to tell him absolutely not, it’s been way to long and your need to be stretched—

He forces his entire cock into you with one brutal thrust. You scream, cry, try to flatten yourself against the bed but he won’t even let you do that, muttering about “presenting” properly. It hurts but it feels good, know that’s it’s just too much.

“Soap,” you sob, “y-you can’t— you have to… I’m-I’m gonna break.”

“Shhhh, no you’re not,” he soothes, grinding a bit deeper. Your eyes roll back, keening through your teeth. “You were made for me. You’re all for me.”

You shake your head, but he just chuckles.

“Yes, baby, yes. You let me in, you kept me. Now we belong to each other.”

“Soap, w-what are you talking about…?” you manage, fists tight in the sheets. He draws back once and slams into you, hard, mean.

Leans down so he’s rumbling directly in your ear.“‘S Johnny, hen.”

You blink, confused and overwhelmed. “W-what… n-no. No, Johnny is my….”

“Woof.”

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[punkpandapatrixk]

🏖Your Own Standards of Beauty ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

I’ve seen one too many times East Asian YouTubers, when talking about EA’s ��rigid standards of beauty’ giving this sense of defensiveness or helplessness—because it’s culture, right? With every fibre of my mixed ancestry I loathed that particular brand of apologist behaviour.

‘Nature is busy creating absolutely unique individuals, whereas culture has invented a single mold to which all must conform. It is grotesque.’ – U.G. Krishnamurti

Up until fairly recently, I was still struggling with comprehending the thought process behind this ‘invention’ of a grotesquely small and narrow mould of beauty and conduct to which ALL East Asians must abide lest you’re a total disharmonious failure. After some long and hard rumination, frustration, accompanied by occasional bouts of repugnance, I think I finally get ‘why’.

Almost ALL people in East Asia ALL LOOK THE SAME!!! By nature!!! LMAO LMAO People can ONLY have black hair and black eyes LMAO Ahahahohohhahah I think these Asians were never ‘socialised’ to appreciate variety. Hahhh that’s so pathetic. If this really is the reason, man, it’s pathetic as fuck. Ionno tho. You think I’ve figured it out.

All I know is that East Asians must repent for all the sins they’ve committed against childhood, individuality, creativity, aaand society and Humanity itself. Yes, Humanity. Standing on the side of all genetically diverse peoples of Asia, such as the Ainus, Mongols, Uyghurs, to some extent the Zainichis, and sooo many other ‘anomalies’ who, in recent history, have been cast aside and treated poorly only because they don’t ‘fit in’ to the ideals and cultures of the main races of some purebred fucks.

For all I care, the part of East Asian culture that has birthed this infamous ‘rigid standards of beauty, and, conduct’ can go to fucking hell. If you’re the type of person who’s even the slightest bit proud—or defensive—of this you can go and fuck yourself. No one should be proud of that kind of a racist, fascist, repulsive, little bitch mindset. Are you a little bitch? I ain’t one.

I am a Supreme Bitch! Imma be myself and do whatever the fuck I want and look however I want. And if my society can’t take that? Those types of people—Asian or no Asian—can die on the wrong side of history! I. AM. MY OWN. PROTOTYPE.

perspective: Why BUSHIDO Is The Root of All Social Problems in Japan by Let’s ask Shogo

documentary: WE ARE X on YouTube (watch before it’s taken down LOL)

‘X challenged a conservative Japanese society and showed us a new way to be. They started a revolution, honestly.’

‘Be proud!! Be proud of yourself! We are!! X!!!’

deck-bottom: X(!?!) The Wheel of Fortune, Priestess of Ambition, Gold Magus (Johannes Faustus)

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 2]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – A Light of Innocence in this Insanely Debased World

playlist: silly playlist for silly people with rare songs!! by Rita wild

the TYPA beauty you are – Page of Cups

You are someone who’s known for being quite childlike. It could be that you do look young, but it’s mostly your mannerism. Technically speaking, it’s just YOU being the happy pill that you are. Listen, some of you tuning into this Pile could be dark and sombre on the inside—especially if you have a significant Scorpio/Pluto about you or if you’ve had a very unhappy childhood—but the way you’re perceived on the outside is totally bright, beautifully soft and pleasant, and dang, people really be liking your aenergy when you’re in a room.

You’re the type of beauty that exudes ‘purity’ in the most innocent way, no matter how you look or dress. You could be perceived as ethereal or unreal. otherworldly in a sense that you don’t seem to fit in this dimension. Are you an alien? Are you a goddess? Are you a fairy, elf, or an anime character? People may not have the exact words to describe you but you’re INTERDIMENSIONAL is what’s going on.

It isn’t just your physical beauty or the attractive way that you smile. People may not realise this themselves either but what’s truly beautiful about you is this VIBE or AURA that you generate from having a vastly pure heart. No, no, not pure in the sense that you never think sexy thoughts, what? Pure in the sense that you really operate from your Higher Heart and has very little ego driving your ambitions in Life~^_☆-v

effects on the world around you – Ace of Cups Rx

Basically, you just love beautiful things. You always look for beautiful things. And you make an effort to surround yourself with things you find beautiful in your own standards. And in a way, you’re also the kind of person who sees beauty in everything and everybody. You’re the type of person who sees Light even in a narc’s darkest corners of their blackened heart (if they had one), which is really such a beautiful thing but could also prove DANGEROUS!

It’s wonderful to have childlike wonder but it ain’t cool whatsoever to be childish enough not to acknowledge the presence of evil fucks. Bad people exist, OK? Very predatory and murderous people exist, OK? And it’s a spectrum. And you’ve been such an easy target for those on the milder spectrum of psychopathy! Babe! OMG You’re often drained of good aenergy after catering to the stupid whims of very narcissistic, histrionic, pathetic, selfish and whiney fucks.

STOP THAT. Of all the Piles, you’re the type of soft beauty who’s often underestimated and taken for granted just because you’re always so positive. If not ‘positive’ per se, you’re perceived as ‘strong’, so those types of people don’t even feel shame for constantly taking and demanding your aenergy. Keep allowing that long enough and your physical beauty could be drained out of you by the time your First Saturn Return jaywalks along and smacks you in the head.

keep being you, Glorious One – 6 of Swords Rx

Truly, you’re a silly angel who holds the power to absorb other people’s pain and gloomy feelings. But if this is your main pile, thing is, you might not have learnt how to release or transmute the negativity you’ve absorbed from your surroundings. It is paramount that you learn to call upon divine protection so that you’re shielded from the Evil Eye of those who are envious of your beauty and feel silly in your purity. Your Spirit Guides aren’t saying that you should stop being innocent, right?

A Soul like you is very rare in this perverted world. Some people might say, ‘They don’t make people like you anymore…’ WRONG. You’re the catalyst, if anything. By your example, there’s gonna be MORE people who are gonna be comfortable in their purity. Knowing that there’s nothing wrong with them for being this way. Fully comprehending that it is this world that’s gone too insane, and DEBASED. And this world has been this way for far longer than people realise. I mean, I’m sure you’re aware of how inhumane most people were in the medieval times LOL

Keep being the innocent and pure you, Glorious One. What you’re being advised to do is learn to set healthy boundaries from which you can still shine your Light safely. I’m being told that many of you choosing this Pile, due to your heightened sense of aesthetic, might want to have a social media presence or any kind of public platform where you’re free to share bits and pieces of your beautiful Life as a form of your Lightwork. Some kind of a lifestyle influencer?

I’m thinking of channels and blogs that typically share aesthetic daily vlogs and stuff like that—like nemui atelier on YouTube. You know what I mean; I don’t know what I mean XD

YOUR BEAUTY KILLS🔻💙

story of your evolution – Priestess of Prosperity

a legacy of authenticity – Red Astronomer (Johannes Kepler)

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – An Unexpectedly Romantic Dreamer of Luxury

playlist: songs like 𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 (MITSKI) by song with love

the TYPA beauty you are – 2 of Cups

Ah~! You are such a dreamy and romantic beauty! You’re soft, elegant, sweet and lovely, with a kicking spice for those who would get on your bad side LMAO You’re actually a lot tougher than appearances give but most people don’t always get this until they’ve gotten to know you. For the most part, at first glance, at first encounter, you’re a sweet goddess, who probably gets projected on a lot.

You really have an unassuming quality about you. So then, people think there’s not much going on within and think it’s easy to typecast you into something, with some simplistic label. People think it’s easy to figure you out and classify you into some kind of a dream girl who’s always going to be nice, warm and friendly with everybody. You’re not. You’re a totally self-respecting babe. Actually, you really hate it when people act like they know you.

When people act like they’re close, buddy-buddy with you, it’s super annoying and depending on your mood that day, you could sometimes feel this urge to break people’s faces. But you don’t do that; you’re too nice. And you’ve got a plethora of coping mechanisms to deal with how annoyed you are with your surrounding XD Good for you!

effects on the world around you – 5 of Swords Rx

First of all, I think many of you tapping into this Pile love shopping. Retail is definitely your therapy. Is this good? Is this bad? Depends, I guess. You tend to spend money gregariously or consume a lot of food, or buy a lot of aesthetic knickknacks, or buy a lot of arts and craft as a means of therapy. Deep down, you’re somebody who has a lot of anger or a general sense of dissatisfaction with the world you’re a part of and this rage, almost, needs to be channelled creatively.

There’s a perpetual sense of disgust inside of you. You’re keen to observe and notice how much Humanity is failing. Everything that is ugly about society and people in general disgusts you. That’s why it’s important for you to live in beauty or indulge in creativity. That’s why it is paramount that your immediate surrounding, that your own Life, within what you’re able to control, is beautified to the max. You could be quite desperate in this pursuit because this is some kind of an overcompensation for the beauty and creativity that you feel is lacking in the world.

Your aenergy is kinda reminding me of this quote by the iconic Edie Sedgwick when describing why she dressed up the way she did:

‘When I was girl of the year and superstar and all that crap, everything I did was really…motivated by psychological disturbance. But I’d make a mask out of my face because I didn’t realize I was quite beautiful…I had to wear heavy black eyelashes like bat wings and dark lines under my eyes. Cut all of my hair off and strip it silver and blond. All these little manoeuvres I did out of things that were happening in my life that upset me. I’d freak out in a very physical way, and…it was all taken in a fashion trend.’

In fact, I think all of her famous words here could resonate with you. You are what trend-setters and superstars are made of, that much of your effect on the world is certain~

keep being you, Glorious One – Queen of Pentacles

Really, that’s all dandy as long as you can make a living out of your pursuit of beauty and creativity. This about you is really something that you can utilise as a means of therapy, self-care and self-improvement because you really are an artist, one way or another. It would be wonderful if you could monetise your beauty and creativity in some trendy way.

If you feel that you’re not particularly good at any kind of ‘real’ art, then you can ‘serve face’ to help other people sell their shit. You don’t think this is smart enough? Muses are often people who don’t do art—rather they inspire Art in the minds and hearts of other artists. Truly, you are an artist; but those of you tuning into this Pile who feel like you’re not one…you are potentially someone’s Muse.

Luxury is yours for the taking. But a lot of people in this world pursue luxury and some form of fame for vapid reasons and that often makes people very unhappy. Your Spirit Guides are saying that you do have a talent for balancing modern money-making and self-care. I think what they mean to say is that, you can be the prototype for how people can be completely and uniquely offbeat whilst still maintaining a good work-life balance.

After all, you do remember how much people like to project on you, right? Well, use them to make Life a lot easier! XD After all, it’s not like their projection and labelling would be useful any other way LOL🐙

YOUR BEAUTY KILLS🔻💜

story of your evolution – Priestess of Luxury

a legacy of authenticity – Green Historian (Herodotus)

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – A Ghostly Bitch Witch Who’s Quite Literally a Fucken Sigma

playlist: Everything Is Still Under Control by Mabisyo

the TYPA beauty you are – Queen of Wands Rx

You, are, by nature, magical. You’re incredibly magnetic and this ain’t even something you’ve needed to work on; it all comes naturally. If anything, it seems you’ve needed to learn the very hard way how to shield yourself from aenergy vampires. You’ve needed to work on your boundary. This is because it took you such a long time to realise most everybody around you was nothing but anklebiters. These were people who just wanted to be seen orbiting you because doing so would elevate their status or image.

Whether or not you’re aware of it, you’re quite literally thee IT girl. You’re also THAT girl, because a lot of what you do and just who you are is very aspirational. Well of course aspirational to the motivated ones; to the weak, lame-ass ones? Almost everything about you is irritating. And most people are really lame, don’t we all agree on this? So you may have felt like you’re really quite an unlikeable character. WRONG. Dead wrong. It’s not you; it’s your lame-ass environment.

You’re a Queen of Passion who’s been living in peasant quarters, figuratively speaking. You’ve been surrounded by misers who don’t even understand why it’s deeply important for them to raise their own standards of authenticity. Thing is, they can’t afford to be authentic. It’s probably not entirely their fault—after all, peasants are highly dependent on thee System. Not you. You’re the menacingly magnetic bitch witch of a system buster!

effects on the world around you – 8 of Cups

As much as you make an effort to be left alone, you magnetise admirers to no end. This is reminiscent of Greta Garbo’s famous quote, ‘I never said, "I want to be alone". I only said, "I want to be left alone". There is a whole world of difference.’ It’s true with you as well. You’re not necessarily an antisocial bitch who hates people; you just want to be left alone by gluttonous gossipers and silly simpers. You find it hard to grasp why people behave unreasonably in society, all, the, time.

You yearn for a more intellectual world where people behave honourably, which is quite paradoxical considering you’re often perceived as quite scandalous in your behaviour and lifestyle choices as well. For example, you could be gay or queer? You could desire to defy social norms such as ‘having to marry by a certain age’? You either reject social norms or you live completely opposite to what’s expected of your gender, nationality or age. You don’t like being told how to live your Life as if you couldn’t work it out yourself. It's YOUR Life, right?

It’s MY Life! My Story! Is what you say.

You’re the kind of super bad bitch that gives no one permission to decide how you should sail your ship. You’re at the wheel so you’re gonna sail the world however best you know. You’re gonna learn a ton because you’re not afraid of detours or delays or whatever—you could meet accidents, hopefully not fatal ones, but you’re going to learn. That’s what growing up well is all about for you. And if you meet the right kind of audience, your whole AURA is going to empower them to do just the same for themselves~

keep being you, Glorious One – 4 of Cups Rx

You are destined for an exciting Life. In fact, you’re meant to have an audience, have some kind of impact on the world, you’re meant to become some kind of a famous person. Could be a celeb, yeah, but in this social media era, literally everybody can have their own unique kind of celebrity, right? You’re meant to be seen, heard, listened to, watched, analysed (LOL), and learn from.

You’re somebody who’s rare and your perspectives are deeply needed by this world. This world that’s often blindsided by optical illusions. Of all people, you’re the only one who’s not getting sucked into the mirage of mass media and deceitful politicians. You’re the one who’s noticing where the lies are all at. And you need to point that shit out, spell it out for other people to see what’s truly going on in this world.

You could gain enemies, lots of them, in fact; but you are definitely gaining a massive following far greater than that if you remain authentic and courageous. Stay spooky. Stay scandalous. Stay gloriously YOU~ You’ve no idea just how much that Light of yours is needed in this world of long shadows. Keep your Third Eye open and keep your divine protection. Most people have yet to catch on to the one thing that makes YOU superfluously attractive: a courageous Heart that seeks to liberate others from the chains of their own cowardice.

YOUR BEAUTY KILLS🔻🧡

story of your evolution – Priestess of Luck

a legacy of authenticity – Green Magus (John Dee)

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[moonyasnow]

Troubled Sleep?

The one where Malleus and Irina have a sleepover

OC(S) : Irina

OTHER CHARACTER(S) : Malleus, Lilia

TYPE : Fic (~6.6k words)

CONTENT : mostly fluff and a liiiittle bit of angst (it gets better), a bit of hurt/comfort, mostly cute and light-hearted for once, lots of dialogue, a bit of an insight into Leomoe (Tomoe x Leona) too, some descriptions of Agoraphobia

WARNINGS : flashbacks of parents fighting, mentions of past/ongoing SH (Flashback will be marked with <----------->)

...Nothing happens to me, I had come to terms with All the things that I thought I'd never indulge in "Take all that you can get 'cause you aren't worth it" You make that me feel at ease, I have to admit....

..Everything is so brand new I don't know what I'm gonna do I've never said a word I've never let anyone see through Tell me why the fuck I wanna spill my guts to you..

-Irina-

She arrived at Diasomnia with a small plastic bag in her arms bearing the logo of 'MISTER S' MYSTERY SHOP'; inside was a toothbrush and the outer robe of the school's Ceremonial garb, which both she and Tomoe had used as pyjamas since they slept in them that first night in Ramshackle. They'd simply become both their 'sleep clothes' by that point, since they were hardly ever needed for anything else, and they managed to keep the cold that seeped through Ramshackle's poorly isolated walls somewhat at bay.

By this point the sight of the grand castle no longer floored her as it once did, having grown accustomed to it after so many visits to see her friend. Instead, gazing up the tower in which his room resided, her heart beat louder in anticipation as she walked across the creaking wood bridge.

She knocked on the big port gates, and waited, soon being greeted by a Diasomnia student.

"Oh, um, hello." She nodded in greeting. "I'm here to visit my friend—"

"Yeah yeah, the Housewarden again, got it." She closed her mouth in embarrassment as they opened the gate wide enough for her to step into the foyer.

"So uh, do you want me to...to go...t-tell him you're here?" She could see their skin pallor. She bit her lip, gripping the bag cradled in her arms a little tighter, and she couldn't keep her brows from slanting downward ever-so-slightly, annoyance bubbling up in her chest.

'Do you have to act like I'd be sending you off to die?'

"Oh, Irina."

Her heart leapt into her throat and felt like it hit a wall, making her entire body tense up and jump, as well as reflexively curl her toes tensely into the soles of her shoes. But she didn't make a sound.

As she cautiously looked to her right, she saw the owner of the voice, hanging upside down. Seeing it was at least someone she recognized, she exhaled slightly, shoulders relaxing just the tiniest bit.

When she met his eyes a mischievous smile stretched across his face, one which told her he knew exactly what he was doing scaring her.

Turning his body in the air, he gracefully landed on his feet next to her and the other student, the tips of his hair still hovering until a second after he'd put both feet on the ground.

"You're quite early."

"I-I'm sorry, should I not have...?" She bowed her head in greeting, like she'd watched Tomoe do so many times and over time just adopted as part of her own body language.

"No, no, it's not a problem." His smile mellowed with a shake of his head. "Come, I'll walk you there."

Making their way quickly through the Lounge, they began the trek— and really, it was a trek, given how large the Dorm was— to Malleus' room.

"He has been very excited about today for quite a while. Now, don't tell him I said this, but earlier I found him cycling through scores of differing themes for decorations. And when I asked, he said he'd been doing so 'only for three hours'." He giggled, telling the story mostly to himself.

As they continued ascents up narrow spiral stairways and walks through long, near-empty hallways on a path she was well familiar with by that point, she felt a bit silly. Really, she hadn't needed Lilia to walk her there, knowing the way so well, but she didn't want to seem rude by saying that. And...

Passing through the cold, grey, stone hallways with its wide, lattice-detailed windows on either side, she always felt so small. Like a rabbit out in a wide open field with short-cut grass. She was relieved to for once not be walking through them alone.

The times she did, she always hurried, glancing over her shoulders often, rushing to his room like it was a safe haven. Which, in a way, it was.

After they had finally reached the top of the last flight of stairs he said:

"It frustrates you to see people's aversion to Malleus, does it?"

Though her face didn't show it, the question caught her off-guard. 'He saw my face when I was talking to that student...' She clutched her bag tighter again, a sense of unease welling up in her.

"Um..."

"It's good he has someone like you." she noticed the warm lilt in his voice. "I'm sure I speak for both of us when I say I'm glad you're not afraid of him."

She didn't know how to respond to that unexpected statement of gratitude. Especially when she'd been expecting a lecture of some kind. It didn't make any sense for her to think he'd scold her. But still, it had been her first reaction.

"Ah, here we are!" the announcement made her loosen her tight grip of the bag. He then turned to speak to her.

"Now, Irina, would you like me to get you anything to eat?"

"Huh? Oh, n-no thank you, I'm fine. I wouldn't want to bother you..." before he had a chance to respond she added: "I already ate a little before I came here."

"Ah, if you've already eaten, that would defeat the point. But I'd gladly make you a meal anytime! You're quite small for your age; I sometimes worry you aren't eating enough."

"Ah..." Her heart suddenly felt queasy. "Th-thank you." She smiled and sweat-dropped, before she went to open the door.

She curled her hand around the cold, metal handle of the black, arch-shaped door.

Mindlessly, she opened the door and out of habit lifted up her head to scan through the area beyond it. When she saw the white and black tiled floor, the purple fabrics and the large stone dragon statue, her heart stilled its frantic battering almost immediately, the only goose-bumps remaining on her skin being on her back as she had it turned to Lilia.

And when she saw him, saw Peridot, like clockwork, her entire being seemed to come alive like a flower seeing the sun, and she gasped without meaning to. She swung the door open and took a step forward— then turned around in a panic to bow her head to Lilia.

"Thank you!" Before turning once more, as quickly as she could, to the cause of the feeling of lightness blooming in her bones. "Peri!" She couldn't wipe the smile off her face.

"My Child of Man." He beamed. They were long past the formalities extended to a a newcomer or even infrequent visitor. "You arrived early. Here I was planning to await your arrival, that I may invite you in myself."

"Should I come later next time?"

"Hm. No, that won't be necessary. I'll simply arrive an hour earlier to await you." he smiled casually with his hands on his hips as though it were the only logical conclusion.

Her eyebrows shot up.

"Oh, y-you don't need to—" She recalled hearing that he'd once waited for three hours for a Housewarden meeting to begin, and her guilt ebbed away.

"Well...only if you're sure you want to."

His smile stretched wider as his eyes closed.

"Of course."

'He'd really want to wait for me that long?'

It tickled her chest warmly.

'Does that mean I'm…important to him…?'

Her face began to feel warmer.

Hearing a giggle from nearby, both their heads turned to Lilia.

"I'll leave you to it. Have fun you two!"

-^-v-^-v-^- [ Malleus' Bedroom ] -^-v-^-v-^-

She exited the ensuite bathroom of his Housewarden's dorm room clad in her sleeping robe and saw him sitting on the couch, his bedside table having been moved, now covered in a small tray of cookies. He was wearing a long, black nightshirt that she thought seemed about 200 years out of fashion. For a second she was surprised he'd managed to change so quickly (and didn't seemingly care that she could open the door and catch him at any moment) but then she remembered he probably just snapped his fingers to get changed. She felt a bit embarrassed of her own clothing, an explanation of how they couldn't afford to buy any clothes on the tip of her tongue. But to her relief, he didn't comment on it as she went to sit on the couch next to him.

"I've never slept in the same room as someone else before... So, um...what do people do at sleepovers?"

"Oh?" He cocked his head to the side. "I had assumed you would know of such things."

"I-I'm sorry..." he shook his head in response.

"Fear not, for I acquired that information myself, using one of the machines you humans call 'computers' open to public use in the library." He smiled, looking very pleased with himself.

"You managed to use a computer?" Her eyes widened. Most likely thinking it was in awe, his smile grew even more pleased.

"I did indeed. The Heartslabyul senior, Diamond, instructed me on how to operate the device." He watched her listen to him with rapt attention "Although..." He put a hand to his chin, glancing sideways into recollection. "I did break the tool used to operate it; a 'mouse' I believe it was called? What a flimsy piece of plastic…it crumbled beneath my hand as easily as a dry autumn leaf."

"Oh..." she blinked, giving him a sympathetic expression. "I hope you didn't get in trouble for it." her concern was genuine.

"One of the staff ghosts did become rather upset, and requested I pay back the cost of the item, though that was all. You need not be worried for me. Though I admit I am pleased to know of your concern." He smiled at her once more, dark lips curving upwards in a motion she couldn't force herself not to watch intently.

"So, um, what did you learn?"

She asked, trying to keep her mind from wandering.

"It seems the gist of it is to wear nightclothes, partake in treats, and merely talk. And so, I had some prepared." a troubled look flashed in his eyes. "Upon hearing me speak of it, Lilia was adamant he prepare them…" He shuddered in silence.

'Oh, right, I forgot...Lilia's food is inedible, isn't it?' "It was nice of him to offer, at least?" she cocked her head to the side.

"Indeed." he offered a small sigh. "Although I have long since given up urging him to consider changing his way of 'cooking'."

'Oh, right, I forgot...Lilia's food is inedible, isn't it?' He let out a short, mirthful chuckle. "Though, Artemisia has not yet learned that lesson. She appears vexed by her inability to solicit a change in his culinary habits, no matter the myriad of times she has suggested advice or recipes. She even spoke of gifting him several cook-books for his birthday."

"Would...would that even help?" She whispered the latter part, even leaning closer, as though entrusting him with a secret.

"Given that he already claims to follow recipes...I am unsure."

"Ah, how careless of me, I nearly forgot. to enquire... How are your own dorm-mates faring?" he Has anything of note occurred in Ramshackle as of recent?"

"Oh, Leona has come to Ramshackle a few times recently."

"Kingscholar has?"

"Mhm." She nodded. "He eats dinner there sometimes. But I've only been there once when he's been there. Tomoe usually tells me in advance…" Her tone wilted.

"Do you wish to avoid Kingscholar?"

"'Avoid' is a bit of a strong word…I just... want to give them some time to themselves." She curled up into herself on the couch, hugging her legs with one arm and speaking into the top of her knees. "Tomoe, Leona and Grim…they look a bit like a family when they're together. And it just…makes me feel a bit awkward when I'm there. Like I'm intruding…" She realized instantly that this would be considered 'over-sharing' talking to someone. "Um, I mean-- i-it's not that bad, I just- I'm just not really used to someone who isn't me, Grim or Tomoe being there." She fiddled with the fabric of the couch, lightly scratching her nail over it through her glove, and tried to swallow back the tears she could feel behind her eyes, threatening to spill.

'Why am I crying this time? So annoying…get over yourself. Just because you feel a bit lonely doesn't mean you have to cry about it. And why are you lonely in the first place? Just making a big deal out of nothing again…'

She felt a warmth enfold her hand. Looking down, she saw his bigger, pale hand on top of her gloved one.

"You will never be an intruder here." His voice instantly drew her attention toward him.

She looked at him with a subtle expression he'd come to recognize as one of surprise by the almost blank look on her face and the subtle raising of her eyebrows.

Her heart fluttered. Right… This wasn't 'someone new'. This was Peridot. Malleus.

Silently, she squeezed his hand back. Like he squeezed her heart.

"You mentioned that they 'look like a family'?"

"Right. I think so, at least…I think that's what a family looks like— should look like, I mean…" She still wasn't used to how honest he made her.

"What might you mean by that, more specifically?"

"Um, well… Sometimes, it's like Grim is their child. Like that time I was there: Tomoe was cooking dinner, and Grim and Leona were in the kitchen with her. Grim asked something about how much longer was left til the food was done…then Leona said that if he was going to keep complaining about the time, he should just help Tomoe. And Tomoe said that the same thing went for Leona, too." A small smile crept onto her face. "Then she called them both 'hungry kitties'."

"Kingscholar, a 'hungry kitty', hm?" Closing his eyes, he chuckled.

"…It is a little funny." And she did, too. "Ah, b-but please don't tell Leona I said that… Or that I told you about Tomoe saying that. I think he only doesn't mind when Tomoe says it…" 'If he found out I told someone else about it, Peri especially, I think he'd be mad…'

"Very well. If that is your wish." he said, still smiling. "Still…" and he laughed again. "It will be amusing, to hold such knowledge of him the next time we speak." he gazed off into the distance, in thought. "He does not mind Sakurada being the one to refer to him as such, then?"

"Well… When she said that, they both got upset. But I think it was only because she compared them to each other." Replaying the incident in her mind, she couldn't help but laugh. "Grim said 'myah, I ain't anything like that lazy ol' lion!' and Leona said something like 'Don't compare me to that fur-ball, Herbivore.' And then she said 'Yes, you're both very different.'"

He laughed again.

Hearing that deep, almost rumbling sound, she was utterly enchanted. It was beautiful. And in that moment, laughing at what was essentially gossip, all the while she could see a crumb from the cookies they'd been eating stuck at the corner of his lip, she wondered how anyone would ever be able to look at him and see someone to be feared.

She wanted so badly to sit up on her knees and lean over to cup his face in her hands, and kiss him. She'd never had that desire before. If she'd ever had a crush— or what she thought was a crush…she really couldn't tell anymore, with how she always forgot her feelings felt as soon as they went away— she never had thoughts like that. She wanted their attention on her, yes, and felt overjoyed when they did look at her or talk to her, but this was different. She'd never wanted to specifically do something before— much less do it herself.

She was never one to initiate anything.

And she wouldn't this time either.

But she'd wanted to. So badly that it hurt, the ache of yearning pulsating in tune to her loud heartbeat, resounding from her throat. She forced away the thought of what kissing him might feel like.

-^-v-^-v-^- [ Malleus' Bedroom, Later ] -^-v-^-v-^-

Bringing the candelabra from the desk as quietly as she could, she set it down on the floor in front of her, lighting just one of the candles.

The couch at the end of the bed, where she was meant to sleep, was empty save for a single pillow.

She sat on the floor, near the edge of the carpet, with the heels of her feet on the lightly fuzzy surface and her toes on the cold black and white tile. She was using the purple blanket she'd been given as a shield draped over her small body, its tassels tickling her.

She'd tried to sleep. But she just couldn't. The quiet in the room seemed to want to surround her on all sides, pressing against her like plastic in a vacuum former.

On nights like these, she at least always used to have her plush rabbit Clover with her. She would hug it, and feel less scared; less alone. Because she imagined it could feel the same feelings as she did. That she wasn't alone, that someone could understand the feelings that took over her, that she someone to suffer alongside her. The illusion, for that is all it ever could grant her, at least gave her a little strength.

Yet Clover was no longer with her. It was back in her world; back on earth. Probably in her bag, or in her bed, where she usually kept it. So all she could do was hold herself. Yet it wasn't enough.

Her arms were too…her. Thin, and cold.

She could never mistake them for the touch of another.

Blankets had so often acted as her shield, a warm weight surrounding her, cocooning her, keeping her safe. But now, with no Clover to hold to complete the puzzle, it felt like just what it was: fabric.

Moments like this, with her curled up on the floor in a blanket close to night, reminiscent of similar nights from when she was a child, was always when she could hear her parents the clearest. She imagined them there, arguing, just on the other side of the door…

<----------------------------------------------------------------------------> The crashing sound of the table being flipped over, the plates and drinking glasses crashing loudly to the floor, the sounds of them breaking apart invading her mind, sending adrenaline pumping through her system, making her curl up tighter beneath the blanket.

'Then why don't YOU get off your ass and get a job yourself, huh?!' A muffled yell. A sputter was the answer.

'You DARE to say that when it is MY family's money you're squandering?! And you have not forgotten the neighbors threatened to call someone if we left her alone again, yes? Either stay home with her yourself for once, get a job, or stop going to the pub and count yourself lucky we get that money at all!'

'The money's in our account. If I have to put up with your bitching and whining, I sure as hell deserve a break from it! It's not like I asked for your parents to take fucking pity on us. In fact, I wish they hadn't! I wish I'd never fucking met you!'

'And you think that I asked for this?! You believe I wanted to spend the rest of my life with a foul-mouthed, brainless, pathetic dead-beat like yo—'

— SLAP —

'Fucking bitch. SHUT! UP!'

Someone fell to the floor, panting.

'I can't deal with this fucking shit.'

The front door was opened, then slammed shut. Leaving her alone in the house with her upset mother. If she went out of her room to pee, she would be yelled at. <---------------------------------------------------------------------------->

She was breathing heavier. Her body quivered beneath the blanket. She shook her head from side to side, scratching at the skin of her scalp, gritting her teeth, willing the memories to go away.

'I-I'm safe here…it's ok. I-It's ok. They're not there. It's not real. I'm just—just imagining it. So stop imagining it! Stop it! I don't want to think about it! Go away!'

She covered her head with the blanket and curled up impossibly smaller. As small as the laws of physics would allow without her breaking or dislocating anything. She stretched the fabric to its limits and gripped it hard, willing it tighter over her bones.

She whimpered. It just wouldn't go away. It wouldn't stop. The blanket didn't help. The blanket always used to help, at least a little. Why didn't it this time?

She huddled closer to the candle, hoping to feel soothed by the light. She whimpered again. Louder this time. Without thinking, she put the middle bone of her index finger between her teeth and bit down, feeling the familiar, soothing ache of pain.

Looking at her hand she saw bite marks. Some old, but others new, the most recent only having scabbed over a week prior. There were more under the sleeves, on both of her arms. It was the only thing she knew to do to soother her on-the-inside pain, an itch she'd never been taught how to scratch at, replacing it instead with causing herself on-the-outside pain.

'I won't bite hard…I can't. I couldn't explain the blood to him.' But she wanted to. To distract herself, give herself another reason— a more legitimate reason— to whimper. In pain, this time. She deserved to feel pain anyway.

She...she wanted it.

'That's…'

<----------------------------------------------------------------------------> ���SLAP— <---------------------------------------------------------------------------->

'That's what happens when you're bad…' And wasn't she bad? She felt bad. Always. Always, always, always. 'Just a burden...a useless burden who never did anything for anyone. All I did was make everyone's lives worse. Just kept leeching off the wasted good will of others. Of the orphanage owners. Of my uncle. He probably never cared anyway. Why would he? He's...he's probably happy I'm gone. If he even realized it at all.'

But...often, the pain she caused herself felt good to her. It felt familiar, like relief. Almost even loving; the near life-long habit having encoded a sense of the familiar, of the safe, into the act of causing herself pain. But that it was still pain, something bad that she thought she deserved, kept her from denying herself the sensation, the same way she had with almost every other thing that she liked.

But...he wouldn't like it. If he knew she'd hurt herself. And she couldn't clean it off or change into something else.

Her eyes ached, primed to spill over. She knew she'd start sobbing soon.

Dread muddled through her veins thick and slow, the urge drawing her in closer and closer, like a whirlpool. She had to, she had to, she had to, she had to; nothing else would make the dread and fear and panic and desperation go away. The pain would comfort her. It was this or Clover, and Clover was gone—

"Child of Man?"

Her breath hitched. She dropped her hand— barely an inch away from her teeth, into her lap, biting down on her lip instead. She hid her hand back inside the blanket as quick as she could. Caught up in her own spiral, she'd missed him stirring awake.

"Why are you awake? Did something happen?" he asked with a sleepy voice.

'Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no— h-how do I— I shouldn't be awake right now. How do I explain—'

He'd slipped out of his bed to come closer to her.

"I…" she looked away from him in shame. In an instant, an excuse formed in her head. "I had a nightmare…"

Lying was easier than sharing the real reason. But why? She didn't think he'd be upset; that wasn't what she was worried about. She just…didn't want to get into explaining why she couldn't sleep.

"Oh, did you now?" He sat down next to her. Something in her hardened, like a see-through beetle-shell formed around her mind. It calmed her. At the expense of wiping any expression from her face, any vulnerable sincerity from her voice.

"Do you wish to discuss it? I recall Lilia would ask Silver the same once upon a time."

Still not looking at him, she shook her head. "It's okay. I'm used to it. I have them a lot." Her muscles had gone tense, leaving her feeling like a wire skeleton beneath a cloth exterior. Had she been more aware, she would have been surprised to hear the admission of often having nightmares spill from her lips at all; she'd only ever heard it spoken inside of her head before.

A moment of silence followed.

Then she felt his hand on her back. She couldn't keep from flinching. She was sure he felt it too.

"...Child of Man." He spoke in a low, serious voice, causing a slow build-up of dread over her bones. "Look at me."

Slowly, reluctantly, she did.

"So long as I am here..." she leaned back her head to look up at him. As purple met green, the beetle-shell began to slowly melt, thawing like ice."No... So long as I draw breath," his hand drew nearer her, to brush a lock of hair behind her ear... "no evil shall touch you." ...but stopped just before his hand reached her face.

"Even if I fall into slumber," she saw his eyebrows were furrowed ever-so-slightly. "I shall awaken the instant you call for me."

Her lips parted in surprise. She felt something violently grab hold of both her heart and throat and squeeze, taking her breath with it. It hurt, in an 'on-the-inside' way. It was new. Overwhelming. It tasted bittersweet, like medicine.

'...Why? Why would he...?'

"Goodnight, my Child of Man."

The second he began to move away, she felt the sudden loss of that warm, bewildering feeling, replaced too many horrible emotions to name crackling through her body all at once.

"Wait!" The word flew from her lips before she could stop it. Him leaving, even if he were just a meter or two away and would wake up if she called for him, felt horrible. The thought of him not being right next to her, even just to sleep, felt unbearable. And she knew that…she would feel safe if she were next to him. If he were to hold her. The mere thought consumed her body, mind and heart with longing, with want. With shame, too. Shame at daring to think she could ever be allowed something so wonderful.

"…Um…" she said so quietly she was sure he would miss it; it was the strongest she could manage to make her voice in that moment.

"I…" Digging her nails into her wrist, she made herself look up at him and force the words from her lips. "C-can I…sleep next to you?"

She watched, almost in slow-motion, as his expression turned to one of shock.

"You would..." his deep voice began, almost as much of a whisper as her own words.

His parted lips slowly gave way to a smile, brows coming back down. Beneath them his eyes narrowed into slivers of peridot green, crinkling warmly at the edges.

"Of course."

Her eyes widened. 'R-really…?' It was her turn to be stunned. 'He'd really want me to sleep next to him?' Her heart started beating unsteadily, accompanied by a dizzying, nauseating feeling. 'Too good to be true' she'd always called that feeling.

'No, it's probably just because I basically begged him… Not because he wanted to…' He took her hand in his, thankfully not looking at them as he helped her up from the ground. Instead he looked into her eyes. She couldn't look away even if she wanted to. Which she didn't. '…I don't know. I hope he wants to…' When it came to him, she could never convince herself of the words she was so used to thinking.

She would never understand how he could do that. She'd spent her entire life trying and failing to quiet the rioting, wailing thoughts that had scratched at the inside of her skull for as long as she could remember. But all he had to do was look at her, and they faded to silence.

Then she smiled, too. A look of relief on her face.

He lead her by the hand, to the side of the bed. Seeing him sit down and pat the spot next to him, she slowly climbed up and onto the mattress, his hand having extended the blanket until she got in. Expecting to hear creaking metal springs and feel rough linen- not because she thought that's what his bed would be like, but because it was what she herself was used to- she was surprised to see her knee sink into the soft mattress under her weight, then rise right back up as it left with her. He closed the curtains around the bed, enveloping them both in darkness.

For just a moment when they laid down, she was tense, not knowing what to do. But when he covered them both with his blanket- thick, and enchanted, to keep his reptilian blood warm- it was washed away like the closing of an open window that had rattled in the wind. Still, her heart beat loudly.

His bed was very soft, and warm. It felt different from every other bed she'd ever slept in. The sheets were the softest she'd ever touched; they felt like silk. 'They probably are.' The second her head touched his pillow, she thought she was melting into it.

"It's so soft!" she couldn't help but exclaim. "U-um, t-the pillow, I mean…"

"Is that so? If it pleases you, perhaps we should arrange more sleepovers. You are always welcome here."

"R-really?" then her face scrunched up in guilt. "It usually takes me a while to fall asleep…"

"Then shall I sing you a lullaby?" For a second, a spark of excitement glittered in her. The suggestion seemed so...intimate. Just the thought made her heart race...before she forced it to stop.

"I— w-well, what I meant was, I wouldn't want to keep you up so often, with me not being able to sleep..."

"In truth, I do not require much sleep. At least, not as much as humans do. So getting less of it would not negatively affect me as much as losing yours would you."

"So...I wouldn't be bothering you?" she already relished the sensation of being in such a soft place, hearing his voice so close to her in the darkness. 'I shouldn't ask for more than that...'

"You would not." she heard a smile in his voice, and hoped more than anything that she was right. "Though, that does bring me back to my question... Do you think that hearing a lullaby would aid you into sleep?"

"I…I don't know. I've never…really heard one. I mean, I have heard some, just...never had one sung to me." Embarrassment turned into shame and drenched her chest at the admission. 'Most parents sing lullabies to help their children sleep, don't they?'

"Hm." came his reply. She felt a long finger trace the palm of her hand. She froze to focus on the feeling. In the dark, all she could see were his eyes, glowing beautifully chartreuse, gaze still trained on her. Before his fingers all slipped between the gap of her thumb and index finger and held onto her hand gently. She held his back without even stopping to ponder it.

...Was this truly the kind of closeness 'friends' had? The gentle gazing into each other's eyes, holding each other in sleep, the emotion-filled words, promises spoken in hushed tones only to each other?

She didn't want to know. She didn't want it confirmed that it was only platonic, only to lose herself in yearning for something more and becoming discontent. And for the very same reason she didn't let herself even ponder the possibility of it being romantic.

Yearning for something more had never done her any good, only lead to her hopes being crushed, adding more fuel to the fire of the desperate felling of pure hell that always caught up with her sooner or later. So at some point she'd forced herself to stop. It was safer not to look past what was right in front of her. To not imagine any way it could be different...

"Then come closer, and listen well…" And she did, choosing to send her thoughts off with the wind. To once more think of nothing but the current moment.

He inhaled gently, and began to hum a smooth, baritone melody. The sound ran like a flowing stream through her ears, reverberating into the rest of her body. Closing her eyes, she imagined a forest, slivers of golden sunshine filtering through the green of the leaves and gleaming against the surface of a stream. Underneath a large tree, there she was, leaning against someone. Someone with beautiful green eyes.

She was warm, her mind felt fuzzy and her body…strangely heavy… And…safe. Like in this place, nothing would ever hurt her. Like closing her eyes wasn't dangerous. Like here, she could let down her guard without worry.

The tendrils of self-abuse that wanted to drill through her skull to pierce her brain and tell her how horrible she was for burdening him like this, or for 'lying' all to 'get her way' never came. They flitted around the room still, combing through the air. But they couldn't get to her now, in her…no, their cocoon.

Because he was there.

And he said no evil would touch her.

She knew he was right.

She felt her closed eyelids become heavier, locking in place, and her body sinking, sliding closer to his by the dip in the mattress caused by difference in weight.

Right there, body slotted so closely against his, she felt safe. Warm. Cherished, even. Like she…belonged there.

-^-v-^-v-^-

-Malleus-

He stopped singing. "…Irina?" he called out after a while. No answer came to the call of her name. She was fast asleep.

When she'd first asked, he was stunned. He had never slept in the same room as another before, much less in the same bed. Neither his grandmother nor Lilia had ever done as such when comforting him as a child. And as Crown Prince, he surely would never be 'weak' enough to not withstand solitude.

Her head was buried in his chest, and her warm, slow breaths almost tickled. He felt…strange. An unfamiliar sensation lighting up his chest; the urge to do…something. To do what, he couldn't quite place a name to. His heart murmured the vague shape of an idea into his ears, but the idea itself was shrouded in fog, its shape indiscernible. All he knew was the premonition that once he could put a name to and execute said action, it would fill him with a joy he could never before have imagined.

But not the kind that bubbled in him, the giddy fizzling embers she so often caused him.

No, this felt…deeper. The tightness in his chest sang a song similar to that of gratitude. And yet, it was not gratitude toward her that he felt. It was altogether strange.

Malleus looked at the girl in his arms. She was so small compared to him…and so warm.

Before she happened upon him on his walk near Ramshackle that night, how many times had he lamented how cold the world seemed? It could not only have been his quite literally cold-blooded body to blame. No, the cold seemed to seep into his very bones, into his soul. Into his heart. He was perpetually surrounded by a natural quiet; not a muffling or complete dispelling of sound— no, there simply was no sound to muffle or dispel in the first place. Empty. Save for him alone.

But since that night, the cold that crept so deep into his heart had slowly begun to recede. With each chance meeting. With each night-walk shared between the two of them.

The night she first invited him to go on another walk after the sun set the next day, he could have sworn his heart would fly out of his chest with how high it soared. He couldn't keep a smile off his face all day. All around him, people avoided him more than usual, likely on account of said smile. But he couldn't bring himself to care. Because for once, he had been invited to spend time with a friend. For once, he was wanted. Not as crown prince, not for his power...wanted for nothing more than his company; his time.

And now, she was there, in his arms. It felt like a miracle. One he should thank someone for. For her not fearing him. For her staying up late every night to go on walks with him. For her always listening to his rambles of his beloved gargoyles. For her coming close enough to touch his cold heart, covered in dust, and warm it in her hands.

He let his fingers wade through the thick, wavy tresses of her pale pink hair. He curled his body so his nose could nuzzle the top of her head.

'You truly are precious, my…' The usual name died on his tongue. It wasn't...special, enough. It was something he could call anyone else.

'…My Irina.'

He held her closer, curled his body up tightly around hers, imagining his draconic wings coming to shield her where she laid, like a precious treasure. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to keep her where she was, in his arms, forever— stealing her away like a dragon would a princess. To lock the both of them in one tower, where they would live out the rest of their days in bliss.

Such visions of an eternity spent together lulled him to sleep soon after, warm, with a smile on his lips.

-^-v-^-v-^- [ Diasomnia Dorm, the next morning ] -^-v-^-v-^-

-Lilia-

'Sitting' upside down on one of the sofa chairs in the lounge and reading the newspaper, Lilia's legs waved in the air in a content rhythm.

"He would usually be awake by this time..." He remarked to no one in particular by the time he'd finished the paper.

And so he waltzed in the air over the stone floor and hummed a bright, cheery tune from a video Kalim had sent to him— about cats in a marching band, if he remembered correctly— on the long trek, or well, flight, up to Malleus's chambers.

Once stood in front of the door, hand poised to knock, he thought better of it, instead slowly creeping in through the door.

Seeing the blanket on the floor, the couch empty, and the usually open curtains of Malleus' bed closed, he smiled knowingly to himself.

He peeked his face in through the curtains at the end of the bed, and a pair of green eyes opened and narrowed dangerously at him as Malleus' head shot up from the pillow to glower at him at the speed of his lightning. His murderous gaze, like a dragon prepared to guard his hoard, mellowed out into a mere pout when he realized who it was— a clear, silent sign telling him to 'leave'.

And so he made like a tree. He smiled widely and removed his face from the curtains, hearing a small hiss at the tiny sliver of light that escaped through before they properly closed again, before leaving quietly out the door.

'Should I draw up wedding plans already, I wonder…'

He giggled to himself as he went on his way.

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

These fools don't know they're basically already in a relationship

Writing this made me cry multiple times because they are MEANT FOR EACH OTHER—

If you like Mallina just as much as I do, or even just 0,1% as much as I do, just send me a message ANYWHERE (comments, an ask(private if you'd like), a reblog, in the TAGS of a reblog, DM, etc.) and I will GLADLY add you to the tag list of any future stuff I make for them! ^^

Ignoring all my perfectionist thoughts to 'keep working on this for several months' and just posting it already

In my 'fuck it, we ball' era [ and it's so difficultttttttttttttt (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀) ]

fr you have no idea how proud of myself I am for only taking a month to write all this! My last proper fic took me FOUR months!

I'm just very proud of this one in general honestly~ Shows I really can make good stuff, even LONG stuff, when I put my mind to it!

Tag list: @another-random-paradise @thehollowwriter @faefum @cactus13-rolloflammesimp (thank you very much for the idea of this fic~!) @beneathsakurashade

@nyx-of-night

[ram-bam-writes]

The Highlight and The Shadow pt. 3 [Graves x NB Reader]

A/N: Yayyy Big Brother Henley is back! Ehehe. This chapter is a little self indulgent for my own love of watercolors, sorry lol. As always, lemme know if y’all wanna be tagged since I update so sporadically :>

Summary: Phillip spends his time with you at the cafe learning about your hobby, as well as entertaining some of his urges to tease. And with your own growing crush, you try to dodge all the increasingly protective questions your older brother has about you and your older Landlord. But how can you think about that when Phillip looks like that.

CW: None really. Flirting, Overprotective brother, mentions of knives and threats but mostly teasing, references to smutty thoughts (not explicit), language, no beta we die like soap, etc

Word Count: 3403

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3]

The date. Oh boy, the date. No, no no no. Not a date. Just… coffee. That’s it. Just coffee in the local cafe. The local cafe that you love so much because it’s got chairs right next to giant glass windows that light up your paintings so beautifully. The local cafe that always slowed your mind and your heart, easing you into a calm lull where you could breathe your stresses away. 

Here, with your painting supplies set up and the bright sun illuminating your workspace, you can work in peace.

It’s not like Phillip strolled in with his tightest black athletics shirt or his tightest dark blue jeans or anything. And definitely not like he put on a belt buckle the size of Texas itself, which you’re currently trying not to compare it to another large thing you find yourself thinking all too much about. No, no. Nor are his arms bulging right out of the sleeve nor is his waist oh so narrow and slutty with that tucked-in shirt. 

It’s fine. You don’t can focus on the blank paper in front of you. You have to. Or maybe focus on the people around you, instead? You already told Phillip you were gonna be busy, so he’d just leave you alone. He had to. He’s not gonna torment you. It’s okay. 

It’s fine.

Then, you hear that familiar, teasing tone. “Hey, Darlin’?” 

Fuck.

You glance up from your painting, eyes large and round and far too innocent for where his mind immediately takes him. He’s got this easy going grin on his face, eyes sparkling more than they probably have any right to that just makes him so... annoyingly hot. He sets down his iced tea — which, objectively, made no sense in the current weather conditions — and points at the palette next to you.

“I think yer paint is dry.” Was it the grin that made your belly flutter or the genuine concern in his eyes like he might get up and buy you brand new paint if you show the slightest hint of disappointment.

“O-oh, no,” you murmur, picking up the palette and setting it a little closer to him. “It’s watercolors. They, um… well, they don’t dry out. I mean— they do, but…”

Why was it suddenly so hard to talk to him? You never had this issue before. Not since… well… that one night after that one dream…

“You just… add more water,” your lips part to take in a shaky breath of air. “And there it is.”

Phillip’s eyes flicker with interest and he offers a smile. His face light sup when he makes that internal connection between his Chief Finance Officer and the arts.

“Oh, like go-… gowa-somethin’.” He shakes his head dismissively. “I’ve a teammate who uses somethin’ like thick ol’ watercolors in ‘is free time. He’s real good.”

You squint at the man before you as your brain spins to decipher his words. “G-Gawa…? Oh — Gouache?” 

“That’s it!” He snaps his fingers, nodding. “Gouache.”

“Heh, well, sort of… Gouache isn’t meant to dry out if it’s Himi gouache. It’s meant to be like… oil paint consistency. My brother uses Himi gouache all the time, too.” You offer a small smile, picking up a small pipette. “But they do interact really well with watercolors! But watercolors are meant for water, and gouache is meant for… well, still water, but they’re opaque and usually used for backgrounds or touch-ups.”

Phillip leans a little closer as you drip water into a few of the watercolor cakes, the pigments immediately beginning to lift up. The Commander glances up at you with a soft sort of fondness in his eyes before watching your nimble fingers pick up a brush and drag it through the watery paint. 

“See? Just a lil’ water and they’re fine…”

“So… watercolors need… water. Got it.” He smirks up at you, leaning back and sipping his tea. When he sets the drink in his laps, his  legs spread a little and his arm drapes the empty seat next to him. “Tell me about it. I don’t know a lot.”

You can feel your cheeks burning at the casual tone of his voice. He sounds genuinely interested, like his full attention is on you. He truly wants to learn about watercolors. 

Maybe he just wants to hear your voice, but you don’t need to know that.

“Well… what do you want to know?” You inquire softly, pulling your palette back in place and adjusting your paper block.

“Like… what’s the best thing t’ paint? Or what’re yer favorite colors to paint with? Or, no, better yet — why the hell’re the colors starting with white and yellow and not, y’know, red?”

You laugh at that, his tone sounding all too inconvenienced for a 41 year old military commander talking about watercolors.

“Y’know… I don’t know.” You stare blankly for a few moments, trying to process it. “I think it’s just how the colors flow. But, there’s lots of the same colors because of warm and cold tones.”

He nods at you, urging you to continue.

You take a breath.

“If you’ve ever tried mixing red and blue to get purple, it prolly didn’t go well, did it? It’s likely because you used a warm red and a cool blue, or vice versa. Colors have temperatures that make them go a little better with each other.”

As you continue to explain, you try not to focus on the way his eyes drift over your form, focusing between your body, your lips, and your eyes.

“So, to make a nice lookin’ green, y’gotta use somethin’ like a warm blue and a warm yellow?”

“Yes!” You beam up at him, and the action urges him to sit up a little more intently. 

“So, why have so many colors on your palette? Wouldn’t you only need, what, six or seven?”

“Well, you can…” You gesture to the palette, a metal tin with 24 half-pans in various colors. “But it’s also nice to have some premade colors. Especially for vibrant purples.” He glances at the palette. “Seems like you really only use this one yellow.”

“Cadmium.”

“And this red.”

“…Cadmium.”

He tilts his head at you, eyelids falling half-way to offer a look as if you’re fucking with him. “Really, now? An’, this blue?”

You break out into a big grin. “Cadmium— NO Phillip put that down!”

But it’s too late. He snatches up the palette, quickly standing and walking towards the cafe’s trash can. Phillip laughs as you push and smack him playfully, trying to reach around his larger frame in order to get your beloved palette back. But he keeps walking, holding the tin palette by the thumb ring on the bottom to dangle it over the trash.

“It was Phthalo!” You shout with a laugh. “Phthalo blue.

He narrows his eyes at you with a slight upturn to his lips. Then, he relents. “Fine. But if I find out there’s another Cadeema in there, Imma throw this damn palette outta my truck.”

“Cadmium—“ He grips your shoulders, pulling you real close.

“Do you think. I’m playin’?

Lords.

You bite your lip, eyes glittering. “Maybe.”

If it weren’t for the random customer to walk in, Phillip might have actually thrown you out of the window. Instead, he ushers you back to the table, hand barely brushing your lower back.

“So… what else ’s there?”

You exhale a little, but laugh. “Honestly? Prolly too much to explain. I think you should just watch and then learn.”

“Aw, not gonna be a teach for me, darlin’?” He gives you a pretty little pout. “Not even a little?”

You simply smile at the man. Something about this was easier than you expected it to be. Yeah, the butterflies are still there, and yes, you’re still very much aware of his eyes trailing up and down over you, but… it’s easy. He’s not pushy, he’s listening, and he’s asking questions. He’s engaged in the conversation. He wants to learn.

But as much as you want to teach him, you like coming out to the cafe to simply… breathe in the calm. The ambient sounds of the people around you lost in their own conversations, the smell of freshly bakes pastries and newly roasted coffee… you lived for it. It was easy to paint in public. Not because people would give you the occasional compliment, but because the cafe was always a breeding ground for easy focus. You could just… get as lost in your work as everyone else around you was lost in there. It’s… easy.

Lost in your own thoughts, you miss the way that Phillip’s head quirks to the side, and the way he observes your eyes and your calm smile. So he settles back in his chair, and after a sip of his coffee and a self-soothing breath, his tone of voice changes immediately.

“How about you show me how you paint a warm summer sky?”

———

The drive back was more calming and quiet than it ever had been. You’d discovered that Phillip loved to talk, and he loved when others did, too. He never much liked silence. It made him antsy and nervous. So to have a near-silent ride back was… new.

And you enjoyed it. 

The entire time inside the cafe while you painted, Phillip silently observed you. And the entire time he watched, his eyes sparkled with wonder. You knew he wanted to ask, but there was something in him that drove him to stay silent. He even suppressed those random little sighs he’d make when bored.

“Thank you,” you start meekly. “I… I had fun.”

He glances away from the road to smile at you, eyes crinkling in the corners. He drums his fingers along the steering wheel of his Chevy truck, tapping along to the beat of some old rock song he’d chosen.

“I did, too,” he begins. “Yer a good painter.”

You bite your lip a little. “Y’know… maybe one day I can teach you more actively.”

That get’s Phillip to raise his brow. “What, like we paint togetha or somethin’?”

“Yeah,” you nod, grinning up at him. “Think you got what it takes?”

He nods slowly, pursing his lips in thought. The way his brows twitch when he thinks is something you can’t help but find cute, especially when his eyes drift seamlessly over to you.

“I’ll take you up on that offer,” his tone is easy, but his smile falters. “But it’s gotta be sometime nex’ week.”

You sit up a little. Was he going on a deployment of some kind? How long would he be gone? Were you gonna be alone for a while? Meals, you needed to prep meals. And you need make sure to set an alarm to lock the doors. And check the stove—

“Hun… Relax,” Phillip purrs. “It’s just a few late nights. I’ll be back ‘round midnight to 0100, and have t’leave around 0400. Nothin’ serious.”

It’s your turn to purse your lips in thought. 

“Nothing serious, he says…” You murmur. “Just three hours of sleep each night for a week…”

He laughs, slowing his car as he reaches the driveway of his house. Of y’alls house. “Tell you what. I’ll make sure t’get plenty o’ rest once I get done. Y’can bore me to sleep with yer painting lessons or whatever.”

Even despite this being the same teasing your siblings might give you, you know full well that Phillip doesn’t mean it. That look in his eyes is one of a gentle kind of fondness. Like a seedling that you desperately want him to foster and care for so it can grow into something… true.

You grin confidently. “We’ll see about that, hotshot.”

———

“So, Pint…” the voice on the other end of your phone is one you cherish. “How’s the landlord?”

You set up the phone on the desk in your room, adjusting everything before relaxing. You call Austin every few weeks to catch up. After leaving for the Marines, you never heard much of him. But you heard even less when he joined some fancy team a year or so back. 

“He’s fine, Aus. I’m well taken care of.” You smile as your older brother pours himself a glass of bourbon. “He’s really sweet. I feel like I should be paying him more.”

Austin’s eyes roll as he takes a seat, leaning on his arm. “Don’t even. Take advantage of the system until yer out of college. Get that degree and get yourself out of there.”

Your brother worked hard to take care of you after he left, usually by sending some extra cash when you needed it for school. He’s always been the protective type, which is why he worked hard to find you a landlord he knew was gonna be good to you and keep you with a full belly, even on days that you weren’t making enough.

“Hey, Aus?” His expression turns into a curious yet serious look. “You never did tell me how you found this place for me.”

“I work with money, Pint. I know how to find shit. Don’t worry about it.” He sips his bourbon, eyes narrowing slightly. “But you tell me if that landlord of yours gets too snippy. You said military, yeah? Thems can get dickish at times.”

You deadpan your brother. “Thinking I can’t handle myself?”

“You can, I know that, Half-Pint. I just want to join in on the fun.”

Austin brandishes a knife of his, one that has a black ace on the handle. It’s a beautiful knife, all things considered. 

“Please don’t hurt my landlord. Phillip’s actually really sweet. Not to mention the first man that’s actually listened to my rambles.”

“Am I just lean meat to you?”

“I distinctly remember you telling me to shut up several times as kids, bitch.” 

Truth be told, your brother listened to you a lot. You just… never shut up about your hobbies. And while he loved listening to his younger sibling, the man had other issues on his mind. Like a sibling to take care of with two practically deadbeat parents.

He laughs at you, the sound echoing in the receiver.

You missed him, you did. He never really came by to visit. But you’d never tell him that. He’s happy with his super secret job, and as long as he kept calling, you’d cherish every moment with your brother. Something about OPSEC, he said, was the reason he couldn’t talk. 

“Hey, hun?” Phillip’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

You slide your chair back a bit, leaning closer to the closed door. “Yeah?”

“Pulled pork or sausage?”

“Uhh…” You ponder for a moment. Pulled pork means barbecue sandwiches, and sausage means dirty rice, both of which sounded heavenly. “Sausage.”

“’Kay.”

You slide back to your desk, being immediately met with the sight of your brother picking at the tip of his blade. “Hun?”

“It’s not like that! He’s Texan, breathe.” You take a sip of your own water, trying to suppress the blush.

“Really.”

“Listen to me, Aus, it’s not like that.” It’s like that. “He even calls little Tulip that!”

The snake in question hisses, evidently knowing his own name. And you smile fondly at the snake, your mind immediately going back to when Phillip gave the three snakes a bath for the first time. How easily he dealt with Fetti’s terrified little tantrum and spasms. How natural it was for him to love on Tiki as he wound himself around Phillip, genuinely trying to constrict and eat him. But Phillip didn’t give a care. He loved every single one of your babies. 

Hell, Phillip had Tiki around his neck right now because the damn corn snake couldn’t handle being away from him for more than three minutes.

A snapping noise brings you out of your blissed out thoughts.

“Earth to Pint,” Austin says, eyes dark. “Don’t tell me I need to take this guy out…”

“No!” You flush a little, shrugging. “He’s too old for me, you know that. And you know I’d tell you. I told you when I dated that kid in high school, didn’t I?” He raises a brow. “The one who laid his hands on you? The only reason I found out you were dating? For only three days before the fucker tried something?”

The sound of your exhale is loud. “Aus, pleas don’t worry about my landlord, or me. You’ve taught me enough to handle myself.”

“Okay, but the moment he tries anything—“

“I will tell you. I promise.”

“Good.” He smiles. “By the way, Tulip’s eating your plant.” 

With that, your older brother hangs up, leaving you to whip around and glare at the snake, his mouth wide as he attempts to swallow your little fern. 

“TULIP!”

———

You smile when Phillip sets down a bowl of dirty rice in front of you, his eyes so fond. After successfully dislodging the plant from your snake’s mouth, you’d gone out to watch Phillip cook, something you often find yourself doing. He’s just good at it, genuinely. And it’s not just the classic American Dad kinds of food, like steaks and burgers. This man has made all kinds of food for you, from fancy Michelin style meals to easy and lazy food. 

You yourself did some cooking. After all, you’d taken care of your younger siblings for years now. Dinners are second nature. And that makes Phillip cooking for you that much more… endearing.

Especially when it’s the last dinner you and Phillip will be sharing for a few days. It makes you sad, even if you don’t want to admit it. You love eating with him. He’d talk endlessly about his day, usually in vague terms or an exponentially growing amount of abbreviations and slang. But he seemed so excited to talk to you about it! He might as well be a golden retriever. 

“If you don’t min’ me askin’, hun, who were ya talkin’ to just a bit ago?” Phillip asks, sitting down next to you at the kitchen bar. “You sounded like they were under ya feather’s at times. ’S it someone I needa take care of?”

Stop being hot. Please.

“No, no. Just my brother. Don’t worry.” You wave your hand dismissively. “The usual sibling relationship.”

Phillip chuckles, his eyes twinkling with understanding. He grew up on a field with many, many older and younger siblings he helped wrangle. He knows the deal. “Makes sense, hun. But what about my precious Tulip, hm? Why’d you yell at the baby.”

Turning away to cross your arms and pout, you regard the question with mock irritation. “He ate. My plant.”

“Ate your plant?” He sits up in interest, taking a bite of his food. 

“Yeah! And the little fucker also thought it was a good idea to eat the pot, too!” A huff falls from your lips. He tries not to stare. “I got it out, but he wasn’t happy. I don’t even know why.”

He purses his lips, brows twitching. “Do they eat plants?”

“Nope,” you say, popping the p. “Not unless it smells like food.”

Phillip pales a little, setting down his fork. “Aw hell…”

“What?”

“I reckon that’s my fault.” Phillip really has the audacity to avoid your judgmental glare. “After feedin’ the little angel I went to adjust your little plant leaf. Flower boy musta been able to smell the mice.”

You slowly work your fingers around the fork, eyes staring intently at your roommate. “Come again?”

“With pleasu-“ But Phillip stops once his eyes meet your death grip on the fork. He leans back a little. “Don’t do that… do not… do that…”

“Give me one good reason,” you begin, eyes narrowed, “not to stab you in the hand with this fork.”

Phillip inhales slowly. “Because… you… like me?”

“Try again.”

The man stares at you for a few grueling seconds, your eyes fighting to stay in line with his. But they dip down just a bit too low.

And he notices.

His hands instantly clasp around both of your wrist to pin them to the table, his grip firm and true. He gets real close to your face — real close — breath fanning across your lips. “Because you don’t want to mess with the Commander of a fuckin’ PMC.”

Oh, Austin is gonna kill you for the thoughts in your head…

~~~~~~

Tag List~

@unicorngirly1

[yellowjacketsfashion]

hiiii :)

i was wondering if you could share your process of finding these items, I've been looking to make an account similar to this but focusing on bands mostly so i was just wondering if you have anything specific that you do or if you just kinda go for it haha

thank you sm <3

Sure!

Since you’re just starting out I’d recommend looking up fashion/makeup specific interviews/articles as they tend to offer insight into potential brands worn or items used. When I first started finding stuff it was really helpful to see the items on shopyourtv.com and other fashion finding sites since it gave me a an idea on some of the brands which I could then use as a jumping off point.

I’m not sure if there are any specific sites for band outfits but on Reddit the r/findfashion subreddit might be a good place to search through to see if there’s anything on there.

It also might be a good idea to check the artist’s social media accounts (specifically instagram) as sometimes you can find information on there. Often celebrities tag their makeup artists/stylists and because it’s their job, they tend to share about stuff they’ve used/brands they like which in turn could help you track down stuff used by the celebrity. Even if you can’t find their makeup artist/stylist, sometimes some celebrities just really like to name drop products they use which is also why I recommend you check.

Unless the items you’re looking for are very recent, the chances are that they probably won’t be in stock anymore so resell places like eBay, Poshmark, Mercari, Depop (etc) are the best places to look. Most of the time the items from Yellowjackets aren’t that hard to find because they’re (for the most part) clothing that’s been made throughout the last 5 years since the Pilot. But looking for vintage pieces is a lot harder because for the most part you are counting on people reselling the items and over time they become less and less available in circulation.

Another thing that’d be good to look at is auctions as sometimes musicians like to sell stuff off for charity or things like that. For example, recently the Propstore Auction had some One Direction stuff up for grabs and in the listing they name dropped some of the the brands such as “Kooples” and “Converse.” See below for photos:

For finding older items, auction houses can be especially helpful as you might not be able to find the items normally due to how old they are (like if you were looking for something from the 60s) or it could tell you if something was custom made (as that kind of thing often happens with celebrities).

But for how I normally find items, this is my process…

The tools I use:

• Google

• Pinterest

• Ebay

The Steps:

• To start I like to find a good quality photo of the item I’m looking for. Pinterest can be helpful for this or Google Images but often times I just take a photo of the item on my phone when possible.

• From there I use Google Lens to image search the item. Though Pinterest and ebay also offer similar features, I’ll wait to use those for if I don’t get good results from Google Lens since that one overall works a bit better for my purposes.

In the example below I used google lens.

• Once the image is in Google Lens (though this works on the other programs too) I crop the box around the item I’m looking for specifically to narrow the search results, in the example above I picked Lottie’s coat from the Entertainment weekly photos.

• I then look through the results that pop up until I find something really similar to the item I’m looking for.

• From there I compare the details of the original item to the one I found to determine if they are the same. This can be color, pattern, fabric, cut, etc. When I find items that are a close match sometimes it’s easier to pick one detail to start with, say it’s a specific collar or which side the buttons are on, if that one thing doesn’t match you can rule it out. If it does match, pick another detail. Maybe it’s something specific to the fabric or the pattern, if that matches just keep picking more details to compare until you’re certain it’s the same item.

• But if you can’t find it, this is a point where it can be helpful to list some of the brands you know the artist has worn in the search to see if that can also help narrow down the results.

• If you still can’t find the item you’re looking for, sometimes the best thing you can do is to put a pin in it and revisit the item at a different time. Sometimes coming back to the search later on can provide you with a different perspective or provide different results in your internet searches that allow you to ultimately find the item.

Hopefully this is helpful! I do have two other posts here and here where I talked in more depth about different aspects of my process if you want to check those out as well. But if you have any more questions though feel free to reach out!

You’ll have to send your blog my way once you get it running!

[twig-tea]

2023 BL/GL/QL Round-Up Post

I thought for posterity I'd post a reflection on everything I watched that completed in 2023. For me, that means anything that started in 2022 but the last episode was in 2023 is on this list, but anything that will still be airing after 31 December 2023 11:59 my time (EST) is not on this list, even if the bulk of the show did air in 2023.

A few stats:

110 discrete pieces of content (series/films)

clocking in at est. 600 hours of NEW BL/GL content only

from 9 different countries (Cambodia [1], Philippines [3], Hong Kong [1], Japan [18], Korea [19], Myanmar [1], Taiwan [6], Thailand [56], Vietnam [7])

~50% of the content I watched on this list is from Thailand

~85% of my content was on YouTube [40%], GaGaOoLaLa [23%] and iQIYI [21%].

[Note that this year a lot of older GMMTV shows moved off of YouTube and onto Viki so if you're looking at these stats to decide what to pay for, this won't account for that.]

This doesn't include re-watches or catching up on old shows [e.g. I re-watched Love Sick, My Ride the Series, Semantic Error, ITSAY/IPYTM, Our Dating Sim at least 3 times lol, and anything with a s2 I re-watched s1 to prep, among others, watched Fujoshi Ukkari Gei no Kokuru (2019) for the first time] or non-QL [e.g. Heartstopper s2, Our Flag Means Death s2, Taskmaster s. 15 & 16, Uncanny Counter s2, One Piece s1, etc.] but does include films as well as shows, though I don't count special episodes separately (so Wedding Plan counts once, though I watched both the show and the special).

I hope you all appreciate that with this much content, and with my general brand of being unable to make decisions, I really struggled to narrow down a top 10 list. What follows is the best I could do lol

Top 20 Shows I'd Recommend From This Year:

Moonlight Chicken

Our Dating Sim

Bed Friend

The Eighth Sense

La Pluie

Sing My Crush

Tokyo in April Is...

Wedding Plan

Laws of Attraction

I Cannot Reach You

I Feel You Linger in the Air

What Did You Eat Yesterday S2

I Became the Lead in a BL Drama

If It's With You

Love in Translation

Our Dining Table

My Personal Weatherman

My Beautiful Man: Eternal

My School President

Be My Favorite

+10 I liked but I would only recommend with caveats:

Love Class 2

The New Employee [for the Rainbow Rice Cakes]

Let's Eat Together Aki and Haru

Never Let Me Go

Kiseki: Dear to Me

Unintentional Love Story

The Day I Loved You

End of the World with You

A Breeze of Love

Jack O'Frost

Bonus: Not a BL but worth calling out:

One Room Angel

Midnight Museum

Grand Guignol

The Warp Effect

Sadly, of the GLs that aired this year, I wouldn't recommend any of them. The best one was Show Me Love, which was not actually good but had very gorgeous women and a LOT of flirting.

The other huge thing that happened this year was that I stopped lurking! Thanks specifically to @lurkingshan and @bengiyo demanding everyone start talking about La Pluie, because they got me to post my first meta post. And because I started actually talking to people, I started making actual friends, and participated in organizing things like the Be My Favorite clown checkpoint for ep 11. I also disappeared a month because of life, and am still catching up on everything I intended to write this year. But it's been really rewarding finding this corner of tumblr with likeminded people who like good shows, like to think about these shows, and who are interested in talking about them in a way that's insightful and respectful.

It's been a long time since I felt comfortable enough participating actively in a fandom, and I just want to say to everyone I've interacted with this year: Thank you!

Full list under the cut for anyone curious! [Mostly in order it aired but may be slightly off].

Love Bill

Director Who Buys Me Dinner, The

Star Always Follow You, The

Cutie Pie 2 You

Between Us the Series (Hemp Rope)

Reason Why He Fell in Love with Me Special & S2 [international release]

New Employee, The

I Will Hit You/I Will Knock You

Individual Circumstances

609 Bedtime Story

GAPYuri / GAP the series

My School President

HitBiteLove the Series

Never Let Me Go

Moonlight Chicken

History 5: Love in the Future

Oh My God (ToDo) the Series

Warp Effect, The

End of the World, With You

My Blessing the Series

Our Winter (miniseries)

All the Liquors

Once in Memory: Let Me Be Yours

Shoulder to Cry On, A

Jack O'Frost

Our Dating Sim

Midnight Museum

Me, My Husband, and My Husband's Boyfriend

My Colleague at BL Shop might be My Meant-to-Be

Unintentional Love Story

Chains of Heart

Bed Friend the series

Bad Brother the Series

Stormy Honeymoon

Eighth Sense, the

Bad Brother the Series

Future Series

Tin Tam Jai the series

Crush on You

House of Stars the Series

Happy Merry Ending

Boss and a Babe, A

Pastsenger the Series

Love Mate

Love Syndrome the Series

Promise the Series, The

Day I Loved You, The

Our Dining Table (Bokura no Shokutaku)

Our Skyy 2

My Story the Series

Starstruck

Love Tractor

Naked Dining

Luminous Solution, The

Omai Series / Is My Roommate A Foreigner

Stupid Genius

Step By Step

La Pluie the series

Tie the Not

Sing My Crush / Follow the Wind

Tokyo in April Is .../ Shigatsu no Tokyo wa

Senior Love Me?

Be My Favorite

Show Me Love

Dinosaur Love

Low Frequency

Stay Still

Stay By My Side

Jun & Jun

Wedding Plan the Series

Laws of Attraction, the

Love Class s2

Minato's Laundromat S2

Hidden Agenda

Bon Appetit

Why RU the Series [Korean adaptation]

Be Mine Superstar

Star, The Season 2

Love In Translation

My Beautiful Man: Eternal

My Personal Weatherman

Bump Up Business

Naughty Babe Series

Only Friends

Grand Guignol

Dangerous Romance

If It's With You / Kimi to Nara Koi wo Shite Mite Mo

Y Journey: Stay Like a Local

I Feel You Linger in the Air

Venus in the Sky

Kiseki: Dear to Me

I Cannot Reach You

You Are Mine

Breeze of Love / Weather Forecast of Love

Mr. Cinderella 2

Let's Eat Together Aki and Haru

One Room Angel

Marry My Dead Body

Lucky My Love the Series

Pure Vanilla: Recipe for Romance

Absolute Zero

Memories, The

My Dear Gangster Oppa

Shadow

What Did You Eat Yesterday? S2

Middleman Love

Beyond the Star

Bake Me Please

You and My Stars

I Became the Lead in a BL Drama

[utilitycaster]

i am deeply intrigued by and invested in a certified utilitycaster brand roast of rupi kaur

So here is the thing: I don't think she deserves a full roast, and also I have not read much of it, certainly not recently, so it wouldn't be terribly informed.

What it ultimately comes down to is that she got published, at age 22, because she was popular on Instagram, and the vast, vast majority of people at age 22 write extremely annoying poetry (source: I took two semesters of poetry writing senior year of college). If she hadn't been writing poems that were, fundamentally, mediocre but not egregiously bad in the unbelievably narrow sliver of time when publishing companies were looking for anyone with a big Twitter or Instagram or YouTube following and passing out book deals she would have not become known for this; she just would have moved on with her life as "girl who wrote some blah poetry in her early 20s".

I mostly use her as a touchstone for a particular style though that is deeply influenced by like, 2014-ish social media vibes: that all lower-case, heavy on aesthetic imagery, simple language, and weird enjambment choices which again isn't bad but it's very derivative, and tired, and at this point in time reads to me as "this person has not found their own voice and is also not terribly creative."

In the tags I just had specifically the jibe is more about how an overly poetic style in prose meta-writing is often, though not always, an indicator you're going to read some overwrought nonsense. I think there's a place for more purple prose - truly, I do - but in actual poetry I lean more towards a plainer, prose-like style and so when someone goes really hard on a poetic flowery style in prose and specifically in meta or fandom predictions it tends to lose me because this is simply not a good writing style for making an argument. (It also usually loses me in fic unless you're really good because the thing about writing fairly plainly and directly is that if you aren't a great writer it still comes out okay, whereas if you're not a good writer and you start throwing what my sister refers to as "wickety-wack" into it, it highlights every weakness).

Back to sort of roasting though: I do think that Rupi Kaur got praised for being straightforward when that's not unique and plenty of poets did it better, of which Langston Hughes was just one example. One of my favorite poems, which was read at my friends' wedding, is Frank O'Hara's "Having a Coke with You" and it's very conversational and straightforward. Like, the most damning thing I can really say about Rupi Kaur is that she doesn't do or say anything new nor impressive.

[candlemouse]

Not Like Other Unicorns

Kendra and Seth discover Ronodin’s most embarrassing secret—he’s a natural blonde!

I posted a snippet over a year ago in this post!

Ao3 Link 1.7k words

With years of peace under their belt, the Knights of Dawn moved toward rehabilitation for certain enemies. Ronodin quickly weaseled his way into a position at Fablehaven, and although many complained, his presence kept the preserve interesting. At least, he seemed to think so. After all, anyone would be lucky to be graced with his presence.

The plastic gloves crinkled as Ronodin spread the black dye across his light grown-in roots. “Damn it. I wish my hair grew slower.”

Kendra laughed. “I can’t believe you’re a fake.”

She leaned against the bathroom mirror from her perch on the counter. Fondness tugged at her smile.

Ronodin scoffed and straightened. A fake? How rude. The little dye brush that came in the dye box stood tall in his hand as he gestured to her. “I have never lied about my hair color.”

“No, but it was always implied that you were dark-haired due to your darkness.” Kendra accentuated the last word with a spooky tone. “Because, really? Platinum blonde? You’re basically Bracken at this point.”

“Shut up. And he’s literally my cousin, Kendra. If one were thinking correctly.” He paused his application to send her a raised eyebrow. “It would make sense that relatives look alike.”

Kendra shook her head. “But, see, you’re a unicorn. You shouldn’t have to abide by such rules.”

“You act like we don’t have genetics.”

“Fairies look radically different from their parents.”

“Fairies are different and weird. And annoying.”

Kendra clutched her pearls. “Ronodin. This aggression—so unlike you.”

“I am never asking you for help ever again.”

“Hey, can I text Seth?”

Ronodin furrowed his eyebrows. “Text him what?”

“That you’re blonde.”

“Why?”

“I thought it wasn’t a big deal?” Kendra batted her eyelashes.

Ronodin narrowed his eyes. “Fine. Tell him. It’s not like I care,” he muttered.

Ronodin set his paintbrush down and surveyed his handiwork. His roots were mostly covered, but he couldn’t see the back of his head that well. “Kendra, could you—”

The door burst open. Once the young shadow charmer caught his breath, he pointed and laughed at Ronodin. The disrespect.

Ronodin rolled his eyes. “I could smite all of you.”

“Ronodin, you’re literally Bracken now,” Seth guffawed.

“Why did both of you say that?” Ronodin threw up his hands, forgetting he had the brush in his hand. A glob flew off the bristles and straight onto Kendra’s hair. “Oh, Kendra, I’m so sorry—”

She merely used it to slick a few strands of hair. “Now I’ll have a dark streak. Does this mean I’m a dark unicorn now?”

“Yeah, Ronodin, did you dye your hair before or after you corrupted your horns?” Seth teased. “Did the blonde just not go with your brand anymore?”

“Out.” Ronodin pointed to the door.

“Oh, you know what, Kendra?” Seth hopped up on the counter beside her. Those two together were absoltuely terrifying. Ronodin would know—he’s been a victim of their terrorism together. “I bet Bracken knows.”

Continue reading here!

(It was too long and too much of a hassle to format it all here. Please consider dropping a comment or kudos on Ao3 if you enjoyed! It can be tough out here in these small fandoms, but we have strong community <3)

[saturnalmoss]

ARM-WRESTLER

Chapter Four

A Shot in the Arm

Master Post

The morning came with Rosé looking hard at the orcish outfit she had been lent. “...Would it be rude to wear with some of my spares...” She looked over at the extra set she’d taken from her pockets. 

“Mmm, g’morning.” Grandma plodded sleepily back from the anachronistic bathroom in the hall. “Whatcha thinking about?”

“I wanted to go check out the DMV Trans or whatever.” Rosé said.

“KMB, like Kimberly.” Grandma offered.

“I don’t know if it would, you know, get me more or less information to dress like I came out of a time machine.” Grandma nodded and sat next to her. 

“If it helps, I think Granny Skully mostly wanted York to wear the stuff.” She said. Rosé hummed again. 

“It’s cute and I want to wear it,” Rosé said.

“Oh totally, I’m gonna. Personally.” Rosé nodded. “But no pressure!” She nodded again.

There was a knock at the door. “Heyyyy,” Hinpirdul called from outside. “Y’all want a bite?”

The two detectives sat at the second, private, dining table with Leon’s youngest, waiting for York to finish his morning routine. 

“I heard chatting, and food isn’t til 8 so. I dunno, I thought you would want something.” She shrugged. 

“Thank you!” Grandma said.

“You up this early often?” Rosé asked with a disarming smile. Hinpirdul nodded. 

“It’s wretched. I’d way rather sleep in.” She said. “So, you gonna find the guy that attacked my Narri today?”

“We’re hoping.” Grandma said. “Did you think of something, Hinpirdul?” She shrugged. 

“Honestly it’s hard to imagine someone doesn’t like them. You should see my teachers. It’s gross.” She scooped up another large bite of modern cereal. “You can call me Piri, by the way. Except at work. Full names at work.”

“Sure thing, Piri.” Rosé said. “Can we ask you some other stuff?” She nodded, mouth full. “Is there anyone else that comes around the house a lot, that we didn’t see last night?”

Piri shook her head. “Even Uncle Ardsley isn’t here all the time. He has work.”

“Does he work with your Narri?”

“Nah. I mean. I don’t think so?” Piri shrugged. “Oh, no one else, though. I go to my friends’ places, not come here. Cause it’s boring here.” She thought for a minute. “Jyuri’s the same. Ummm. What else...”

“Is your Narri a single parent?” Rosé asked as carefully as she could. Piri paused. She put the spoon down. 

“Yeah. Momma died. A long time ago.” Rosé and Grandma both put hands on hers, and she laughed a little at them. “I don’t actually even remember her so it doesn’t bother me. Jyuri does. And obviously Narri and Granny do.”

“We’ll ask your Narri about it more, then.” Grandma said gently. Piri shrugged.

“I don’t think it has to do with Narri’s arm. It was a long time ago.” Still, regardless of what she said, Piri seemed deflated from the conversion. 

“So, I noticed you like disappearing tricks.” Grandma asked. 

Piri’s head swung to Grandma immediately. “Do you know any!” she asked. Grandma laughed nervously. “You look just like a real street performer.”

“Nope! Uh, I do?” Piri nodded enthusiastically. She gestured to all of them.

“I know some,” Rosé offered. With a flick of her fingers, she copied the coin trick Leon had pulled the night before. Piri looked shocked, then her eyes narrowed. 

“Sus.” she said.

“What?” Rosé said, “Why?” Piri just hummed discontentedly. 

“Hey, you lot.” Leon slipped through the door and yawned. “You’re up early. I appreciate the dedication.”

They pulled some breakfast things out of the pantry. It was discordant to see the colorful cereal boxes and familiar brands in the old world orcish pantry. “I’m out of the house for most of today, by the way.” They said. “If you need to ask me anything, now’s a good time.”

“Rosé knows magic.” Piri said immediately. 

“Oh?” Leon said. Their hair was mussed and sleep clung to them. “Is this good or bad?” Piri only hummed. Rosé was baffled. 

Leon laughed. “Piri’s just obsessed with street performers lately? It’s cute.” They shook their head and gave her hair a tussle. “No idea what’s gotten in to her. I’m teaching her some magic tricks.”

“We saw at dinner last night,” Grandma said. “You’re really good!”

Leon looked at them. “If you’re interested in that stuff too, feel free to come with.” They offered ceramic mugs. “Coffee? I’m more of a night owl, so I’m making a full pot.” 

Leon sat and poured themself some cereal. “Thanks, I try. Mm, actually,” They looked at Piri. “We’re going to meet that fortune teller this evening, aren’t we, Piri?” She looked pleased and just a little devious.

York declined the mug and searched the shelves for a bucket. Rosé took one and looked at the cartoon vampenguin on the side. Leon put a finger to their lips and winked. 

“We get to have little things like that in the private rooms.” They said. “So, what’s your plan? I’m curious, I’ve never seen detectives work.”

“You can follow us around,” Grenda said. “We could see if anyone has a weird reaction to you.”  Leon shook their head. 

“Not today, I have a previous engagement to attend, then Piri’s thing. Perhaps later, if you haven’t solved it.”

York stretched and grunted happily. The back yard of the old house was a nostalgic treasure trove. Traditional, even old-fashioned, orcish workout equipment sat around the edges of the yard. A large inset pit for good old argument-settling took up most of the space. 

“This place ain’t bad.” York said to himself and pointedly not Granny. 

He’d gotten a sizable workout in when Rosé and Grandma found him. He grinned at them. “Look at this place! I shoulda taken Granny up on the wrestle.” He said. “Too late for that, well, we got business to attend to.”

Rosé smiled. “I found the local address for that logistics place. We can catch the subway and get off pretty close to it.”

“I like the outfit Granny gave you by the way.” Grandma said. He posed, pleased. “What do you think of mine?”

York nodded. “I like it.” He looked around. “Don’t look complete though.” He picked a small dandelion and held it out. “There.”

Grandma beamed and tucked it carefully behind one ear. 

They made their way to the KMB Trans building by noon. It was a tall building for the area, and had the KMB logo plastered on the side of it. There was even a reception inside. 

“What do we do now?“ York hissed to Rosé. She took a breath. 

“No idea.” She walked up to the receptionist. “Good morning~ We’re here to ask about one of your employees, Mx. Pelles?” The receptionist looked curious. Her name card read “Sarah B. Ross”.

“Mx. Pelles? This doesn’t sound like an appointment...?” she said. Grandma peeking over the counter. 

“We’re detectives, investigating a case of assault and theft committed against Mx. Pelles.” Sarah the receptionist looked surprised. 

“What? They looked fine this morning?” The three detectives glanced at each other. 

“They already came in today? You guys are dedicated to set up shop over the weekend.” Grandma said. Sarah smiled. 

“I’m part of the weekend crew. Mx. Pelles honestly doesn’t come in much on my shift.”

“So familiar with each other, too!” Rosé smiled. “What a tight knit company, Ms. Ross.” The receptionist nodded. 

“It’s nice here. Helps that it’s small. So, why would you come here about an- an assault on Mx. Pelles?”

“We ain’t sure who did the deed.” York said. “We’re looking into whoever might have a grudge.” He leaned in. “You got a grudge?” Sarah leaned back. 

“N-no!”

“Mmm, you don’t sound too sure about that.”

“Maybe a liiiittle grudge?” Rosé suggested, holding up her thumb and forefinger. 

“How! Mx. Pelles is great! They’re so nice and fun and sweet - uh.” She coughed. “I assure you my relationship with Mx. Pelles is purely professional.” She looked away. “Unfortunately.“

Rosé waggled her eyebrows. Grandma crossed her name off in his notebook. “Right, of course,” he said. “I have heard that popular enbies sometimes have jealous enemies, though.”

“Yeah.” Said York. “They got anyone who thinks they get too much attention?” He leaned on the counter and Sarah leaned away again. 

“N-no! I don’t think so! Everyone likes Mx. Pelles and Mx. Pelles likes everyone!” She sat up straight. “I hope that answered your questions! Uh, if you don’t have an appointment then I’m afraid there won’t be anyone here waiting for you. Being a weekend and all.”

“Course,” York said and leaned back.

“Thanks for answering our questions!” Grandma said. The three of them headed back out and Sarah sagged in her seat. She waited cautiously a moment, then jogged quickly to the bathroom. 

Rosé peeked back inside. “I knew it - York scared her shitless.” York peeked in above her and nodded satisfied. 

“So, Leon came here today?” Grandma said. The three of them walked quickly through the door next to the desk before the receptionist came back. “They didn’t offer to bring us.”

“I don’t think we mentioned we wanted to check here today.” Rosé said. “But even still...”

They listened at the solid doors down the hall but the floor was empty. 

“Where do you think they would go?” York said. “I don’t want ta check every door on every floor. Let’s do this smart.”

There was a thunk above them. York nodded. “Good talk everyone. Let’s check there first.”

One floor up, they pressed their ears against the doors until they heard muffled raised voices. The detectives looks at each other, curious. 

The door was heavy and wood. While they could tell there were voices, it was difficult to make them out. Still, the tone wasn’t friendly. 

“...I think they said quit...” Grandma whispered. “I think it was Leon...?”

York frowned. He couldn’t hear them at all. He stood up and opened the door. “Hey.” He said. “What are you talking about.”

Leon turned, shocked, to look at them. A human man stood, hands flat against a desk between the two. He stood and straightened his clothes out. Leon coughed and forced themself to relax. 

“Who on earth are you?” The man asked. He was dressed formally, dark suit, dark tie, and a dark cloak pinned to one shoulder.

“Ah, uh.” Leon said, turning to the man. They smiled. “Let me introduce you. This is York, Rosé, and Grenda. They’re detectives from an agency called Drawtectives.” Leon turned to them, gesturing to the man. “This is Mr. Brian Kross, my employer.”

He bowed to them. Both stood comfortable, as though there were never any tension. “Nice to meet you. Have you hired detectives, Leon?”

“Yes, indeed!” Leon said with a smile. “I was telling you someone robbed me, wasn’t I?”

“To hire private detectives over a robbery seems a bit much.” Mr. Kross said. “Didn’t I offer you additional compensation to cover the cost?”

“You see, it’s important to me to find out who did it.” Leon said. 

“Of course, of course.” Mr. Kross said. “But why are they here?”

“Uh,” Leon looked at them.

“We’re investigatin’ possible grudges.” York said. “You got a grudge, Mr. Kross?” Kross laughed. 

“Dear me, no. I rather like Leon.” Leon smiled, a little stiffly.

“Even though they’re quitting?” Grandma asked. Kross’s lip twitched. 

“Eavesdropping on the job? Or did you mention it, Leon?”

“I mentioned it.” Leon said, looking out the window. “I did also say I hadn’t talked to you about it yet, so I didn’t think you would be a suspect.”

Grandma nodded. “Of course, yes, yup. But also maybe Mr. Kross sensed it.”

“Sensed it?” Kross said. Grandma shrugged. 

“Do you own the company, Mr. Kross?” Grandma continued. He nodded. 

“I’m happy to say I do.”

“Your name isn’t who came up as CEO when I boogled KMB.” Rosé said, looking thoughtful. 

“The CEO is, of course, an employee of mine. Like Mx. Pelles, here.” Kross smiled. York held a finger up. 

He pulled Rosé and Grandma into a brief huddle. “This guy’s a business man again.” He whispered. “Don't smell right to me.” Grandma nodded. 

“It’s suspicious on the face of it! Plus Leon’s quitting!”

“Let’s play some hardball...” Rosé said. They stood back up. Leon and Kross both watched them with bemusement. 

“Mr. Kross, can we ask you a few questions?”

“...Of course, I’m happy to help Leon out.” He sat down behind the desk and perched his head delicately on laced fingers. 

“What do you think of untapped resources?” York asked. Mr. Kross tilted his head.

“Why is it untapped?”

“What about debts, are you responsible for your debts?” Rosé said immediately. Grandma scribbled.

“Heh heh heh.... Everyone is responsible for their own debts, wouldn’t you say?” Kross grinned and looked at Leon, who raised an eyebrow back.

“You like gamblin’?” York said.

“A touch, of the investment flavor.”

“Would ya arm wrestle?” He leaned in.

“Well, I can’t say it's come up, -”

“Do you know hypnosis?” Grandma said. 

“What is going on here, Leon?”

Leon laughed. “I have no idea. They’re just trying to find who stole my arm.” They glanced at Kross again. “Perhaps a clue indicated a gambling hypnotic businessman?”

Kross quirked an eyebrow. He glanced at York. “Arm wrestling?”

“He’s a strapping young orc.” Leon insisted. York nodded. 

“If ya wrestle, prove it.” Rosé watched through her lashes as Kross glanced again at Leon, almost imperceptibly. Leon gave the shallowest nod in response. 

Kross straightened up and sighed. “Young man, have you seen these arms?” He held one up. “If it helps to establish my innocence to you in this matter, I will, but you certainly won’t get any sport out of it.”

York chewed his lip thoughtfully. It was acceptable. “You pass. For now.” He said. Kross smiled crookedly. 

“I’m glad to hear. Now, is there anything else I can help you with? I really must get back to discussing Leon’s recompense with them. Privately.”

Grandma looked down at his notebook. “Let’s see... Do you know anyone who might be harboring a grudge against Leon?”

“The very idea of it is farcical.” Kross said.

Leon walked them to the front of the building. “...If you had let me know you wanted to come here, I would have brought you.” They said, after a while. “Still, it was funny to see Kross like that. He doesn’t break expression much.”

“Why did you say we’d talked about you quitting?” Rosé asked. 

“To be frank, to mess with him.” Leon shrugged. “I was a bit irritated. Well, I’ll talk to you later about it, if you want. I have to leave you here, for now. Get home safely.”

[lazaruswitch]

Conversation really shouldn't be this difficult, all things considered, like the fact that Damian's brother was apparently only like, an year older than her, and also part Crime Alley kid. In her defense, Damian's brother was fucking weird and off-putting, especially for an alleged 17 year old.

For one, he glowed weirdly at random intervals, and in different colors, like roiling green but also fiery red or bright yellow-white, but only when she was never looking right at him. But she can't talk about it because Damian will flip his shit.

And then there's the swords. Physical and not. Because he had a bunch of fancy swords from the League but could also conjure magical fire swords from nowhere. But she can't talk about it, because Damian will flip his shit.

Freakiest of all might be that Bruce kept being weird about playing nice? Not antagonizing him? Not pushing for information? Which was just, fucking, crazy. THE Batman, trying to respect boundaries or some shit, and for Talia al Ghul's mysterious older secret kid who was definitely hiding something. Literally where did all the bat habits and paranoia go?

But she can't talk about it, because then he got even more weird, and then would basically try to gaslight her, she's pretty sure. She'd think he was like, possessed, except he was his usual self literally any time else. It was only when teenage al Ghul came up or was involved that he got like that.

There was definitely something going on without her knowing, and she was definitely being kept out of the loop. Per usual. Fuckers.

Worst of all - mostly because this was the most inane but it'd been driving her mad since she accidentally stumbled across the guy and kicked off this whole mess - Crime Alley al Ghul walked like he was Yasmeen Ghauri's kid or something. Like sure, the haircut and occasional facial expression or side eye was more remixed Shalom Harlow, but that walk was basically a much more improved version of her attempts to emulate the tigress strut in middle school.

But she can't talk about it because Damian will Really flip his shit. For a not-even-preteen he was way too sensitive and defensive over his absent teenage brother.

All in all, she'd rather not be the one stuck here making nice with - fuck she didn't even know his name - Damian's brother, but she was, and it was very tense, and felt kinda like babysitting, and she's not really sure what he's doing in Gotham at all to begin with, but like. Whatever.

It's not like anyone ever told her anything or recognized her skills, even though she was the one to see the guy when no one else ever caught even a hint of his presence in the city. This situation was hardly new in that light. Fuckers.

Nevertheless, keeping quiet and confused helps no one, so.

Icebreakers. How to break the ice? Maybe if she made nice she could get something out of this guy, seeing as no one else would ever give it to her straight. Fuckers.

"So," Stephanie began awkwardly. Damian's brother glanced at her. "Uh, what's with the Shalom Harlow look?"

He blinked, and she blinked, and then his eyes narrowed and he yanked down the mask that always covered his face.

(Which, hey another stupid thing that made him weird, this guy's face was always covered and no one knew what he looked like, and Bruce just fucking left it alone. But she can't talk about it.)

(On that note, wow, ok, yeah, this guy was definitely 17. The fancy coat and hidden face and shadow lurking bullshit made him seem older but that was a high school face if she's ever seen one. Maybe if she got a fancy coat she'd get taken seriously.)

"Shalom Harlow my fucking ass, what do you mean Shalom Harlow?" he snapped. "I don't look anything like her. Shalom Harlow. Ridiculous."

Damian inflects the same way, mused Stephanie, but aloud she said, "Technically you're more like an off brand imitation Shalom Harlow."

"Why the fuck would you say that -"

[kursedmayo]

Story time. I think Donnie would also hate most lipbalm. They're so fucking greasy on the lips and good lord, I would rather feel the pain of dry ass lips than have it plump and moisturized but feeling like I just put cooking oil on, so with the power of headcanon on my side I'm inflicting this annoyance to him too.

I bet he takes like an obscene amount of time researching on lip products before realizing that there's no guarantee that they'll help all too much because he's half-turtle, his skin is different than a human's, which eventually compels him to go on a sort of lip care pilgrimage trying out all sorts of lip balm, like a lot of them. A LOT of them. He jots down the results in a fun little spreadsheet before he manages to narrow down to one brand which happens to be from a smaller, more ethical company than the rest. Even if that brand was much more expensive than others, its not as if he didn't have money that he stole to spend on quality products, so he managed to put his cracked lip woes to rest.

Unfortunately for him however, his brothers keep stealing from him so he barely even get to use the stuff he buys.

Mikey's the biggest culprit of this of course, he's one hell of a yapster (/pos ofc I love Mikey) his lips dry out easily, and he doesn't usually carry a lip balm with him (because he forgets to/keep losing them/keep eating them) so sometimes he just swipes on those bad boys off Donnie's pouch and he doesn't even notice and well, its not as if Donnie wants to take it back anyways. Its already got his lil bro's cooties all over it.

Meanwhile, Leo mostly just steals for funsies. He doesn't even use the ones he steals from Donnie, He's got like, a whole stash of flavored lip balms because he's the face man, he doesn't want chapped lips it'll ruin his gorgeous face! Anyways he gets a whole different bunch in case he loses one (which he never does) and keep buying some until he amassed a whole ass collection (which Mikey also steals from, not that Leo minds). He doesn't need to steal Donnie's, but its REAL fun to figure out how to. He'd literally figure out a whole ass 8 step plan in his head and even learn new tricks with his portals because Donnie literally had to resort to locking his lip balms up in a multi-password protected vault, only to end up not even using the damn stolen things because like Donnie, ew his twin's cooties.

Donnie's extra offended because of that cuz like, at least use the damn thing like Mikey does you heathen he paid 15 dollars for a tube!!

Anyways, since Donnie's no pushover he schemed to get revenge on Leo and begun to steal his chapsticks too, much to Leo's (hypocrital) annoyance and amusement, so now there's an unspoken war that's happening in the Hamato household at the moment which they both refuse to back down on.

Meanwhile, Raph's at the corner just shaking his head in exhasperation. He doesn't really care much about lip balms in the first place because he didn't really use those, but Donnie got disturbed seeing him walking around with El Niño on his lips one winter and begrudgingly gave him one to use, which Raph does use but only sparingly so he doesn't run out, though it's not like he doesn't have money to buy his own cuz he does off jobs in the hidden city then and again. Also he kinda gave up trying to stop the disaster twins from fighting over lip balm because they're gonna keep doing it anyways, so he kinda just kinda tune them out when something inevitably explodes in Donnies lab and Leo comes out running holding a lil tube. Mikey gets let off the hook though, lil bro priveledges you know?

So yeah.

Even if there's a huge L in Leonardo there's still two Ls in Donatello. He's gonna be having PTSD flashbacks whenever someone mentions chapsticks near him for sure.

[itscometothis]

Opening Lines

Tagged by @pia-bartolini! thanks babe :)

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (or however many you have) posted fics and see if there’s a pattern!

erm, one has a prologue so i'm including both because technically, the prologue is first but it feels like its own entity?

OLD AS YOUR OMENS: His throat burned, his shallow breaths causing sharp pains to rack his body as he flinched away from his mother and the poison she poured down his throat. (le prologue).

Regulus was positive he had ceased to exist. (le chapter one)

2. DRUMBEAT OF THE DAMNED: It didn’t happen all at once.

3. ALL THE STOPS: Harry wearily sank onto one of the barstools at the Leaky, joining the stragglers mostly known as the Pathetic Sods Who Have No Where To Go For Christmas.

4.. THE MAGIC OF MACARONS: Draco Malfoy eyed the cookie in front of him with narrowed, skeptical eyes.

5. IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE: “I’ll need you to repeat that.”

6. WE'LL ALWAYS HAVE PARIS: Hermione Granger, in order to avoid Azkaban, stalked her way down the streets of muggle London so she would not murder Rita Skeeter. 

7. A DIFFERENT SORT OF DREAD: Minerva McGonagall would never admit to having a favorite student. 

8. THE PLAN: Hermione Granger had had enough.

9. THE KNIFE: Merlin, this was awkward.

10. DARLING!: Kingsley Shacklebolt was a friend, Hermione reminded herself. She had to keep repeating this to herself as for some reason, Draco Malfoy was seated in the armchair across from her in the lounge next to the Minister’s office. 

So I left a couple things out: drabbles from LDWS, because they feel qualitiatively different as a style, and one of my fave fics of mine, Crime & Punishment, solely because the opening is a recitation of Draco's crimes in transcript form and it's a lot and played with medium. Innocent Monsters was, by that counting, number 11! That's wild, it doesn't feel like I post that much, but it's been 2.5 years since I posted that lil guy.

They're a bit all over the place, but I think the unifying theme here is I usually am trying to establish character/relatability pretty quickly. Relatability and character aren't precisely separate: Hermione is trying not to commit murder, I mean, who hasn't, right? Hermione's at her wit's end. Dying of awkwardness. It strikes the tone and the character's mood while revealing a bit about them.

But, as you move up the list to my two most recent - these are a bit different. I know, as a writer, that I was trying to evoke something of Peter and his betrayal with, 'it didn't happen all at once.' In that sense, it's on brand. This is the tricky thing about fanfic - if itw as OF and we didnt' know anything, it's just a reaction of 'what didn't?' and maybe 'and why do i care that it didn't?" but in fanfic - WHY did this SOB turn from Marauder to Death Eater? And it's Peter's conversational tone I keep throughout.

OaYO reflects its genre - action! - in the prologue. In the opener of Chapter One - a bit of an insistence that, at least from Reg's POV, he really thought he died. (and he did, not a spoiler, it's on the tin of the fic), but it confirms that Regulus thinks so too. It also, I hope, hints at the confusion/disorientation of his return.

Tagging @orangecoluredsky @acanadianmuggle @thebemoon @alptraumdaydream and anyone else who wants to play and hasn’t, already :)

[wheelin-after-midnight]

10.

What’s better: winter break or spring break?

I don't really have a preference because those breaks don't apply to me anymore, but I'm gonna go with spring just because I passionately hate winter in this country.

Are you cold, hot, or comfortable at the moment?

A little chilly, but nothing I can't handle.

How many concerts have you been to in your life?

I've seen Jann Arden three times, in three different venues, two different cities. I also saw Whitney Houston's concert for a post-apartheid South Africa when they remastered the show from Durban, 1994, and released it in theatres in October. If she were still alive, I wouldn't actually count that, but I never had a chance to see her while she was here. The theatre was not extremely big, but those of us that were there were singing and boppin' along and crying like we were at one of her actual shows. The sound was also amazing. You could feel the floor vibrating. It was the next best thing to actually being present in South Africa at that time.

What’s your favorite TV show?

Empire is definitely one of them. Army Wives, You, Me, Her.

Would you ever have sex with the last person you texted?

Ew. That's my mother. 🤢

Would you rather paint your room puke green, or eat a potato bug?

Paint a room puke green. I'll just paint over it later. I'm not eating a potato bug.

How old were you when you had the chicken pox?

Four or five, maybe. I remember I only had a few of them, but my mother ended up being absolutely covered in them.

Ever had a friend named Alex or John?

Yes to both, but not extremely close friends.

Are you one who misses a lot of school, just because?

I was absent a lot, but I mostly had legit medical reasons or appointments. I would just work ahead while I was out so I didn't fall behind the class.

What type of music do you listen to the most?

I hate this question. It's in the same vein as "what's your favorite song?" I don't know. I have 6,500 songs on my Spotify, man. I could maybe narrow it down to my top 100. My favourites rotate. I like such a large, eclectic variety of music across so many decades. Anything from about the 50's to today. I can't pick just one genre. Country was my first love and what I grew up on and grew up singing as a young kid. I also like R&B/soul, Motown, some gospel stuff even though I'm an atheist now and don't really identify with or find comfort in my family's beliefs, pop, rock, reggae, easy listening, Latin/Spanish music... Idk. Literally everything, dude. The only things I don't really listen to are heavy metal and screamo type stuff, but it doesn't mean I hate it. One of my best friends is pretty into music like that and I'll listen to it with her and let her teach me about artists or bands in that space. I think it's important to be present and genuinely support the interests and passions of people I really care about, especially because those who were meant to care about me aren't that present at all and basically just shit on mine.

What are you looking forward to in the next month?

Nothing. I can't even say Christmas. I hate it.

Is there anyone that you’d love to just spill your guts to?

Anyone I wish I could genuinely spill my guts to about certain things wouldn't listen or care, so I likely won't bother ever again.

When was the last time you painted a picture?

With my Nan when I was a kid. It's still hanging in my place. She let me put my name on the canvas, but she had a heavy hand in how well it turned out. I'm not a very skilled artist in that sense at all. She was.

Where is the person you have feelings at right now?

Home, asleep or just waking up.

Can you drive? When did/do you get your license?

No. I never will.

Have you ever had to get braces?

Leg ones, not on my teeth.

What brand and flavor was the last gum you chewed?

Mint.

Are you happy with your relationship status?

It's an open relationship. I agreed to that and it's a long story I'm not gonna get into here. I don't completely hate it, but I would prefer it to be closed and just her and I. That's how we used to be and just what I would personally prefer. I love her more than I hate the open aspect of things, and our relationship is healthy and going well on the whole.

What did you have for lunch today? Was it good?

I don't really have set meals. I just eat when I'm hungry or when I wake up. The first and only thing I've eaten so far today is bacon and cheese on toast with mayo.

Which one: chocolate chip or sugar cookie?

Sugar cookies.

Who was the last person that you sincerely apologized to?

I don't know. I have a tendency to over apologize a little bit. I don't remember the last time I was genuinely at fault for something and it was warranted.

Do you like the smell of gasoline? Why or why not?

I do.

Do you like the color orange? Is it your favorite?

No. It's probably my least favorite next to yellow. I do think orange cats are pretty cute, though.

What kind of ice cream did you last eat?

I don't remember. I don't eat it very often. I have to be in the mood for it. I'm not the biggest fan.

What kind of stuff do you like on your hot dogs?

I'm usually not too big on hot dogs either, tbh. But if I do eat one I'll usually just put mayo on it.

Have you ever been in a spelling bee?

In school as a kid.

Do you enjoy talking on the telephone? Who do you talk to the most?

Yeah, but I hardly ever hear other people's voices generally. I talk to babe on the phone, if anyone. Sometimes dad, but not often.

Do you think the last person you texted is attractive?

No.

Does it bother you when people don’t answer questions with exact answers?

If it's something that requires an exact answer, yeah.

Do you know how to snap your fingers?

Yeah.

In what order do you get ready in the mornings?

If I'm showering when I get up, I make sure I feed Nippy her wet and dry foods and clean her boxes first, take a shower, get out, put on deodorant, underwear, pants, bra/top, brush my hair, brush my teeth. If I choose to skip the shower that day it's basically the same, but minus that part and going straight to food and/or coffee after getting dressed.

When did you last cry? What for?

I cry pretty much daily. Sick of some of the things my disability causes me to deal with, depressed and anxious about having to move.

Where were you at 9:18 this morning?

Asleep.

When was the last time you consumed alcohol? Last night.

The 2nd to last person you texted, how did you meet them?

Elementary school.

Do you call it a crush, or do you just say you like someone?

Neither. I say I love her because it's way more serious than like or a crush.

Have you been drunk in the last week?

No.

What’s your favorite thing to eat for breakfast?

I just eat when I'm hungry or when I wake up, which isn't always at the same time or in the early mornings, but if I do want breakfast type food, it's often eggs or something with eggs incorporated.

[coffeebanana]

20 questions for Fic Writers

Omg it took me ages to get to this but better late than never! Thanks for the tags @rosie-b, @monpetitchattriste, @lesbitorte, @kasienda and @celestialtitania!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Um. 107*... It's possible that I have a problem 😂

(*one is on anon. more on that later adfdsd)

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

801,972!!! (fun fact i was just below 800k the first time i got tagged in this game so i was like "oh well i'm posting a new chapter tomorrow...i'll do this game after that so i can pass that milestone!" and then i posted the chapter but it took me close to a week to do this ahaha)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

mostly just ml. i have a few spop fics too but i don't really write for that fandom anymore. or at least not right now.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Gah. okay. I'm going to answer this honestly but to do that I first need to explain that my most kudoed fic is on anon because I'm annoyed it's my most kudoed fic aksjfbksdb. Like. It's only so popular because there's a bit of lila salt? and really the fic isn't about that but i don't really write that kind of thing anymore and i don't want ppl coming to my profile and sorting by kudos and seeing that first. There are other things i'd do a lot differently in that fic now too ahaha.

Break a Leg

Cards Against Ladybug's Identity

Ladybug And The Tramp Stamp

Imaginary Friends

The Sun Will Rise Again

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do!! I reply to pretty much every comment--unless it's particularly rude/rubs me the wrong way. I know commenting takes time and I appreciate the effort ppl put into it so I like to give my thanks back!

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably Every Teardrop is a Waterfall. Although I think Girl Is A Gun is a strong contender too?

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Uh...well, most of my fics have happy or at least hopeful endings. I don't think I can narrow this down to just a few haha.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I don't think I've ever gotten hate? Definitely some comments that aren't super nice but nothing too bad. (now i've probably gone and jinxed it 😂)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

um. a little tiny bit but not enough to have a particular kind LOL. i've only posted it once so far. but i also have Entangled, which will have smut in the next chapter--and that's angsty smut. which i suppose would be my brand of smut if i ever write any more

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

i haven't! i entertained the idea of an ml/spop crossover a couple years ago but i don't have any interest in it anymore. oh and i ALSO had an idea for a marigami spyxfamily crossover. but i don't know if i'll ever get around to that

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of! (*knocks on forehead since no wood is nearby*)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

no, but that would be super cool!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

i have not! a few times i've planned to write things with other ppl but nothing that ever really made it to the writing stage ahaha. although the littlebug vday zine is a collab in the form of a series--not exactly co-written but similar vibes

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

to write for, definitely the love square. and then catradora is so special to me because it got me back into writing and also i started IDing as a lesbian in part because i binged spop.

aside from that i can't really decide because like. there are so many shows i've seen and books i've read and ships i've loved for so many different reasons asdfbk. and then i have OC ships that only live in my head but that i love to play with sometimes before i fall asleep at night. so please don't make me choose!!

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

uh. i would say none of them? because it's only when i completely lose interest in a fic that i lose the belief i'll finish it. and that's only happened with maybe two of my wips i can think of?

16. What are your writing strengths?

Depicting emotions! And using the setting to do that by establishing the mood/tone/etc...

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

i guess like...self-doubt? not that i'm awful with it. in general i think i'm pretty good that way. but it's my biggest barrier to writing when i have periods where i get in my head about my writing, and it can make me overthink and not know if i LIKE my writing. and i think my writing is at its best when i'm having fun with it (which is probably true of most ppl), so...

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

i think it makes sense when the characters are actually speaking that language for a short time but aren't speaking it for most of the fic? like i have one ml AU set in new york so they're speaking english for most of it and i used french for the first couple lines that were french (and weaved the translations into the narrative). so that's the only time i do that personally--aside for maybe one word lines like bonjour--but as a reader it doesn't usually bother me when i see it used other ways

19. First fandom you wrote for?

ahaha the Vampire Academy book series. and NO you won't find those fics anywhere, even though they are still out there somewhere

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

currently Say Something. and i very much wish i could finish writing it, but it'll happen when it happens!

I think most people I would have tagged have probably been tagged by this point...likely more than once 😂. So whoever else wants to play should do so!!

[kay-wren]

I'll Come Running - R.C. - Epilogue

Jessie heard the knock of her apartment door, signaling that people were there— right on time. She threw the kitchen towel down that she was using to clean up the mess from the cake her and mama just decorated.

"Want me to get it sweetie?" Tom asked from the couch, not bothering to look up from his sports on the TV.

"That's okay, pops. I got it! Charleyyyy!" Jessie rang up the narrow stairs of her oh so familiar apartment. "You need to get down here, there's some people here to see you!"

Mama smiled as she watched the young woman practically dance over to the door. Jessie knew exactly who was behind that door. She opened it with the biggest smile on her face knowing exactly who she was going to get to see.

"Hellooooo!" JJ beamed. He was accompanied by other greetings and murmurings from the Pogues and Wheezie behind him, all of them had brightly colored presents in their hands as they entered into the apartment with excitement. Jessie couldn't hug her brother fast enough.

"Ugh! JJ! It's been too long!" Jessie exclaimed as she brought her brother in for a warm embrace, doing the same to the others.

"Four months and twelve days... but who's counting right?" JJ replied with a laugh.

"Charley still has no idea we're here right?" Sarah asked. They all were clearly anxious to see the little girl.

"That's right! She knows all her friends are coming for the birthday party... just not you guys. Oh, she's coming!" Jessie said, frantically moving out of the way to reveal the brand new four year old with a birthday crown already on her head and a sash already around her pretty new dress. She looked around the living room in confusion, but the second she laid eyes on the entryway she gasped.

"UNCLE JJAYYYYY!!!" Charley screamed as she ran up to the blonde haired boy. Like so many times before, JJ reached down to scoop up the little girl.

"Ohhhh my gosh Char Char! You've already grown so much since New Years! Gotta stop that now!" JJ insisted as he poked at the little lady in his arms.

"Someone's not a little girl anymore." Sarah said through happy tears as she looked over at her sister in law, embracing her with a hug. Jessie nodded in unfortunate understanding of the same reality.

"I know it." She responded with a tinge of sadness. Time truly was a thief. "And look at you, little lady!" Jessie said, now turning her attention to the teenager in front of her. "You have got stop growing! What's next? A boyfriend?!" Jessie joked as she held Wheezie's face in her hands like only a mother could. She couldn't help but feel like if she blinked her eyes Charley would be that old too. She distracted herself by averting her attention to the Pogues.

"Everyone else should be here shortly." Jessie said.

"Who all's coming?" Kiara asked, knowing exactly what answer her and the rest of the Pogues were looking for. Jessie read between the lines.

"Uh, some friends from school, some of the MM... and Rafe."

The room went quiet. The Pogues looked concerned, but Mama and Tom seemed to show a chip on their shoulder at the very mention of the man's name. The truth is, they had been taking the brunt of Jessie's whims the last four months, trying their best to get her back on her feet after such a messy split. Nothing was official yet, but they could see how tired Jessie was from trying to balance work and strained family dynamics across the board. Trying to help the Pogues in the Bahamas and raise her daughter with an unstable father was more difficult than she originally imagined. Yet she chose to still keep in touch and make things work the best she could. She figured Rafe deserved that. No matter what, he had a daughter that he now knew about and was undoubtedly attached to. The Pogues could see that too, and they had their own worry for the twenty-two year old. Yet, they found themselves more conflicted than Maci and Tom, mostly from the fact that they saw Rafe's side of things too. Regardless, today was not the day to pick a side and wage a war.

"Stop looking like that." Jessie sighed with a plea behind her eyes.

"Like what?" JJ asked stupidly, as if he didn't know exactly the look she was referring to.

"The look of guilt... the worry. I can't take one more look of sympathy." Jessie replied with slight annoyance. The Pogues felt their own sort of guilt from this mess... JJ still couldn't live with the fact that he had called Jessie to come get him out of trouble in the first place... if hadn't have done that... she wouldn't be in this situation. Yet Jessie still made it clear that it wasn't his fault time and time again.

JJ pursed his lips and looked down, trying his hardest to understand where Jessie was coming from. He was pulled from his thoughts at the sound of another knock on the door.

"That should be Sam and Treasure."

"Treasurrrrrre!" Charley squealed as she kicked her feet, begging for her uncle to let her down.

"Thats one of her friends." Jessie explained. "Char char, go ahead and let her in!"

Once her feet hit the ground again she ran to the door, frantically opening it. Jessie figured this was the perfect time to step aside with the Pogues and have a moment.

"Look guys... I know everything is still fresh... but today is Charley's birthday. Today is not a day to pick sides or start anything, alright?"

The Pogues could tell Jessie was serious, she almost came off as threatening. They nodded in understanding.

"I'm serious." Jessie reiterated, still not convinced they understood what this day meant.

Jessie and Rafe, although communication was minimal and strictly for Charley, managed to come to an agreement about days like this. Rafe was allowed to come over, but no conversation outside of what was necessary. It was harsh, but it was crucial to making sure that this day didn't turn into passive aggressive manipulation that both of them were so good at wielding. Jessie didn't even like being in the same room as Rafe right now... as she felt that he could attack her with just his smile and those longing eyes... no words needed. But she decided that for today, he had a right to celebrate his daughter.

Slowly but surely more people started to trickle in, resulting in a house full of friends and family that Jessie loved to mingle with. The sounds of kids running around, all the adults laughing, and music blaring was still not enough to fill the hole Jessie knew was there. It was blatantly obvious in her mind only that Charley's father still wasn't there. She wondered why. He said he was coming.

What Jessie didn't know is that Rafe thought he was coming to, yet he had been a bundle of nerves all day. He got no sleep the night before. He wondered if he was strong enough to celebrate something and someone so special to him with the girl he loved the most and act like she was only the mother of his child. How was he supposed to casually share his daughter when her mother was so incessant on hardly any contact? He played every possible scenario of how this day could go in his head over and over, which caused him to stop right as he touched the exit door of his penthouse, to take another lap around the block of Jessie's apartment building, and for him to stop dead in his tracks with his hand held up almost ready to knock on her door. He stopped every single time, contemplating if he was really ready for this. He had only seen Jessie these last few months in the small time it took to drop Charley off for little visits. Yet even in those short moments, he knew his Jessie inside and out. No amount of time could change that. She was keeping it short and sweet for the same reasons as he was... fear of falling. Still, he shook his head and whispered to himself to get it together, his next move being a swift knock to her front door before he could stop himself with his thoughts once more.

Jessie finally heard the only knock that mattered, knowing it could only be the one person that was left that still hadn't shown up. Her heart skipped a beat when she heard it, and she leaped through the crowd to get the door before anyone else had a chance. She opened the door to reveal none other than Rafe Cameron. She took a deep breath, one that Rafe could see due to her extended rib cage and look of concentration. He pursed his lips but quickly remembered that he needed to smile, so he did.

"Hi." Rafe whispered numbly as he flashed his pearly whites.

"Hi." Jessie exhaled with a fake smile plastered on her face as well.

The two stood there, for as long as their hearts would allow them. Even after months of little to no contact, their eyes still said everything they wouldn't allow themselves to say for the sake of accepting reality and keeping the peace. And as Jessie looked deep into those ocean eyes standing in her doorway, that was all the confirmation she needed to know exactly where to go from here.