#so now to figure out the best timezone

[starwishfestival]

Hi, the gift should be send on 25th December, right? Is there a time zone we have to follow? I think in my country it would be when in USA will still be 24th and I don't want to be either too early or late if I try to wait too long.

Don't worry about posting it a bit early - you can post it on your 25th of December!

There's no specific timezone to follow, but maybe we should have one for next year?

[bruisedboys]

I yet again have 3 blurbs to spam post tonight ..

[oceantornadoo]

hiiiii, i just read your annoying military neighbor story with price and… lord help me cause if that’s not my favorite scenario then i don’t know what is. it’s so good. and i think your set up is very tasty it’s got that juice. so i come asking for a full fledged long (as long as you wish it be) and angsty (as angsty as you wish it be) fic based on it. it would be a delight. please.

anyway, love you have a good timezone ✨👍🏻

you are so lovely i love asks like this!!! i tried to keep the politics very general since john’s british but as an american, i also have very complicated issues with our military. also the angst turned into cockwarming, not sure how that happened…

—

it had been a week of you sleeping at john’s before you came to your senses. a week of knocking at his door, ignoring his eye contact, and slinking in like a guilty cat. a week of falling asleep on his lap to the soothing sounds of his tv and waking up in his bed, one thick hairy arm a chain around your waist. you’d always dipped out as fast as possible, needing to get to work, but today was a saturday, so you blissfully luxuriated in his soft bed and warm presence.

john felt like he was walking on eggshells. you’d show up when no one could see you and walk out before the world was awake. of course, it was the best sleep of his life. funny from a man who just wanted to sleep alone after sharing tents and safe houses with his men. something about you on his lap, practically purring, or you underneath him, protected, sent him to sleep like no other drug could. he couldn’t take a week of no conversation so today, he was determined to woo you.

when you got up, john was nowhere to be found. you followed the delicious scent of pancakes to his kitchen, his back turned to you as he focused on his stove. you took in his back muscles for a moment then turned your gaze to his walls, this being the first time you'd looked at them in the morning light. the sights of medals, pictures in camo gear, and congratulations notes assaulted you, guilt gathering low in your stomach. you could see the blood staining him in a few pictures, a visual to how freely he treated other humans through the nature of his job. now there was a sour taste in your mouth, the smell of pancakes suddenly nauseating.

"hungry?" john finally acknowledged your presence, figuring he could lure you in with food. instead he saw your spine straighten, lips pursing as you turned your gaze towards him. shit. "no, im fine. gonna get going, lots of errands to do." you made to move out of his line of sight and on instinct he burst towards you, stopping you with a hand on your arm. "stay." your eyes flicked to his walls again, then back to him. "your pancakes are burning, john. thanks for the offer but i need to go." he swore under his breath as he turned to shut the stove off, moving the burnt pan off the heat. guess he needed to up his game to keep you. "y' need your key, sweetheart." he was back in front of you with a grin, hand patting his back pocket. you rolled your eyes, reaching forward to grab at it as he took a step back. the action was childish, absolutely too young for a man of his age and level in the military, and yet, here he was.

“don’t think i can’t see past you, john. you can’t order me around like one of your soldiers.” so that’s what had been bothering you. he’d seen it in glimpses: anti war buttons on your bag, heard your loud conversations with fellow activists through the walls, the guilt in your eyes every time you showed up at his door. he’d thought you just disliked the bachelor pad, his men watching football with the volume up; but it was more than that. your dislike for his job ran deep.

“somethin’ you wanna talk about, love?” his voice was low and threatening, abandoning the childishness that had overcome him. this is why he didn’t mess with civilians - their “morals” not adapted to the realities of the battlefield. of course, you and those eyes had rendered his rule useless, and now he was paying for it. “not particularly.” your eyes shifted, ignoring his. he didn’t like to stand over you, wasn’t one of those men who needed to swing his cock around to get a woman to pay attention, but you always made him work for it. his hand grasped your jaw, tugging you forward to meet his torso, your pelvises brushing. “say it.”

“i don’t like what you do for work, okay? i respect you’re sacrificing everything for your country but i hate that you’re carrying out orders for people pushing senseless wars and countless deaths. i don’t like that the laws don’t apply to you.” he huffed. finally. “you think i like killin’? the blood on my hands stains everythin’ i touch. and bein’ in charge, telling my men to do the same? but it’s fuckin’ necessary an’ if i don’t do it, a worse man will.” you turned away, cheek brushing his torso.

“i know you’re not at the top, not in the politics, but i also know you’re fucking up there, john. you’re not some grunt worker, you’re conscious of the shit you do!” fucking minx, you had taken your keys out of his pocket when he wasn’t paying attention. you backed away towards the door, his body suddenly freezing without you. “i’m sorry. i can’t.” you were grabbing your stuff, toeing your shoes, and out the door before he couldn’t blink.

it had been a week and you were miserable. circles under your eyes, constantly yawning at work. couldn’t catch more than a few hours without sleeping in john’s arms, the thought of it closing your throat. it was a lonely friday night and you were hibernating in your living room, the farthest room from the wall you shared with john. your food delivery was late, again, so when you heard the heavy knock at your door, you jumped out of the position on your couch. “i don’t want to be that person but i was supposed to get my food thirty - oh. hi john.”

he looked worse than you felt. with his overgrown beard and tired eyes, it was like he’d aged ten years before your eyes. “can i come in?” you nodded and saw your takeaway in his proffered hand. in spite of yourself you smiled, and the grin he gave you in return rewinded that aged look in an instant. john took in the sight of your apartment as he took off his shoes and took the food out of the bag. sure enough, a few signs demanding peace crowded your walls, mixed with art and music. it felt too intimate for him to be here. his apartment was simply a place to rest between deployments but this, this was your home. the thought of not seeing it for a while quickly dampened his mood.

“what’s wrong?” you asked through a stuffed face, too impatient to wait for him to start eating. you guided him towards your couch, the both of you taking a moment to eat the food you ordered in amicable silence. “i ship out in a week. be gone a month, maybe more. just didn’t want-“ he never got to finish his sentence, too busy catching you as you launched yourself on his lap, food forgotten. “john. i’m sorry. i-“ he shushed you with a glimmer in his eyes. “don’t apologize for speakin’ your mind, love. ‘specially to me.” you nodded, pulling back to meet his gaze. “doesn’t mean i’m not sorry.” he grinned. “me too.”

“what are we doing, john?” he shook his head, kissing your forehead. “whatever we want, as long as it ends with you in my arms. my sleep was shite this week.” you giggled. “me too. pretty sure i fell asleep standing one day.” he turned serious again. “you can ask me questions. just don’t run away from me again. got it, love?” his hands on your hips, pulling you closer til your pelvises kissed. the feel of his hardness under your pajamas, the forcefulness of his eye contact, the baritone of his voice; it made you squirm, a familiar build in your stomach. “ok.” you said a bit breathlessly, trying to hold back your moans as you focused on his t shirt instead of his face. john jutted his hips up, catching your clothed clit at the perfect angle.

“john.” you moaned, practically a whine. “you like being ordered around, sweetheart? quite a walking contradiction.” he saw your nipples stiffen under your thin shirt, warmth building up your neck to your cheeks. “look at these. practically begging for it.” he mouthed one over your shirt, tongue tracing the outline of your nipple. you started writhing in his lap, grinding back and forth on the imprint of his fat cock trapped under his jeans. you were halfway to orgasm already, the slow grind turning up the pressure, your walls clenching in anticipation. he reached a hand to your neck, keeping you in place with a strong grip. “keep fucking yourself on my lap, love. just like that. can feel you getting closer.” he switched his mouth to the other nipple, licking and sucking and swallowing. your shirt was practically transparent due to his ministrations, the feel of it like a tether pulling at your core. “more, john, more.” he squeezed your neck and bit your nipple at the same time, the sensation of being utterly controlled so appealing you came in his lap. waves ran through you as the clenching became hard than soft, eventually making you boneless in his lap.

“wanna fuck you but i’m so tired.” you sniffed into his neck, back in the position that had led you both here. “i’ll jus’ put it in, love, an’ you can go to sleep. alright?” you nodded against his skin. john pushed aside your pajama shorts, reveling at the touch of your wet heat. another time. he pulled out his cock, beads of precum rolling down, then slipped it into you with ease, your previous orgasm and overwhelming tiredness making you putty in his arms. “so big.” you yawned. “so tired. just give me an hour and…” you trailed off, asleep once again in his arms, back where you belonged.

[hedwig221b]

omg qween goddess supreme hedwig221b can you please, pretty please rec me some regency and/or historical sterek 🥹

hoping you have a good day/night (idk your timezone lol)

Hi, love! You know me so well... historical aus, my beloved ��

When All the Pieces Fit by NARKOTIKA

"Does he even realize? With the cooking and cleaning andandand—now this fucking baby?" Isaac fumes. Said baby waves its fist in the air, and Stiles bends to haul him onto a hip. The baby babbles something and Stiles nods his head with complete seriousness, as if everything out of its mouth is perfectly sensible and coherent. Then the kid starts mouthing at Stiles' nipple through his dress and everyone goes dead silent. "I'm going to wife him so hard," Ethan announces, and they all break out into argument over who has the best chance at mating the boy in the river.

Elskende by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)

Stiles is an omega concubine, kept sequestered away in the city of Beacon Hills, waiting for his lord Gerard Argent when the Wulver take the city and the alpha takes the omega.

Pride and Place by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)

Derek Hale, Earl of Osterbrook, has inherited, following the death of Lord Montfort, a run down house in Yorkshire he neither needs nor wants, convinced his staff are robbing him, and with the mystery of a missing ward, he manages to get himself talked into a ridiculous bet, that he cannot pass as a steward until Midwinter, nearly two months away. So can he maintain the charade? Find the missing child? and manage to turn the shambles of a house around, or will he give up and let Peter take the thousand pounds he bet.

A Princely Knight by Dexterous_Sinistrous

He would stand by Stiles’ side, a constant shadow of protection until his death. A life for a life, one worth much more than an orphan turned thief turned royal guard could comprehend. In truth, Derek saw the one person he would gladly give his life for, because Stiles made this world better. ~*~ Or, Stiles is a prince and Derek is his knight.

Meant to be One by sunhazeheart

His nerves felt like a live wire was running hot beneath his skin, hands fidgeting with the silken material of his robe. If he had the concentration to spare, he might had worried about tearing it. It was all he could do to sit there at the vanity, eyes squeezed shut, and try to give in the constricting pressure around his chest that said that he was about to fall into a panic attack. Breath in. Breath out. His own heartbeat rushed in his ears. Being mated to the reclusive king with a frightening reputation to his name, bundled away from his home and father, and then surrounded by underwhelmingly distant faces hiding secrets was not how Stiles Stilinski imagine spending his life soon after turning eighteen. He can only remind himself that it is for the good of his people, both old and newly acquired. But, perhaps first assumptions are made too hastily and a fated match can be made, even surrounded by threats of war, revenge and death’s waiting embrace.

The Wolf Lord by mikkimouse

"You never know," Lydia said. "Perhaps the Wolf Lord will ask you to dance tonight." Stiles scoffed. "Oh, yes, of course he will. And then he'll transform into a giant black wolf and whisk me away to his estate to live happily ever after." He rolled his eyes at the thought. "Actually, I rather hope he does ask me to dance. I can tell him how ridiculous these masquerades are."

To Whom The Wolf King Bows by MadcapRomantic

Stiles Stilinski meets The Wolf King, the very boogeyman he'd spent his younger years terrified of; yet the man is little, if anything, like the tales he's heard. But, Stiles has spent the last ten years of his life as a slave, under the harsh whip of the cruel King Gerard Argent, and trusting Derek - trusting anyone - is beyond difficult.

Where the Shadow Ends by Green

Derek goes undercover to Delphi to figure out what's wrong with the oracle. He doesn't mean to fall in love.

The Hills Call

Five years ago, Prince Derek of the Hale Empire had fallen for the son of a Baron, Genim of Stilinski. His mother had not approved, and after some time imprisoned Genim escaped to the Dukedom of the Shore, where he was taken in by Duke Christopher and Lady Allison. Now, Prince Derek is on his deathbed from a poisoning and it is up to Genim, now called Stiles, to nurse him back to health. Wary of the Hale Empire, Stiles returns with their young son to see if he can heal Derek of his illness and escape the threats he still feels from the Empress herself.

The Light in the Woods by DiscontentedWinter

To honour a treaty with the people of a strange land, Derek Hale, prince of the kingdom of Triskelion, has to marry Stiles.

I encourage you heavily to go through the works of Dexterous_Sinistrous and DarkAthena (seraphim_grace), these two are my crushes and I am in awe of their work, it's so good. I could genuinely sit here and list dozens of their fics - I already did list some of my most beloved fics of theirs...

Other fic recs: pack mom!Stiles | angsty fics | possessive Derek | baby/mpreg | outsider POV | smut | mafia | hurt/comfort | magical!Stiles | Stiles gets kicked out of the pack | BAMF!Stiles | omegaverse | witch!Stiles | creature!Stiles | bad friend Scott | unrequited love

[teapartyprincess4two]

can you please do a Nick panic attack fic. where either him or the reader (his bestie) has a panic at school and the other helps them calm down. (your choice on how the story goes. xx) love ya thx. ps. you're a great writer!! xx

4 In The Morning- N. Sturniolo

pairing: Pregnant!reader x Bestfriend!Nick

classification: platonic angst, fluff

warnings: use of y/n, slight cursing, mention of unexpected pregnancy, mention of bullies/ bullying (brief), short

insirpation: request^^ so technically they’re IN school, but I put a spin on this req :P

summary: Your best friend Nick comforts you after receiving some unexpected news.

—

“This can’t be fucking real.”

A positive pregnancy test rests on your trembling hands, this was never supposed to happen. A meaningless one night stand was never meant to come with actual, irreversible consequences. You were fresh out of high school, unemployed, and in your first semester of college chasing a dream that now felt impossibly out of reach. How the fuck were you going to raise a child on your own?

Nick is the only person you can think to call, he’s in a completely different timezone halfway across the country, but you know he’s the only person who’ll answer on the first ring. It’s 4 in the morning where he’s at, but knowing him he’s probably still awake.

You hold the phone up to your face with one hand, the other occupied with the pregnancy test. The longer you look at it, the more surreal this all feels.

“Hey bestie bae,” Nick picks up on the first ring, just as expected, his corny nickname for you momentarily easing your nerves. A small sniffle escapes your lips, you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Girl, what’s wrong?”

Silence. You don’t even know where to start. You trust Nick with your life and you know he won’t judge you, but the moment you admit this out loud it becomes real. As soon as those two words leave your mouth, the truth will be cemented into reality.

“You’re scaring me. What’s wrong?!” Nick reiterates. He knows you like the back of his hand, but even he can’t figure out what could possibly have you this upset. You take a deep breath, attempting to calm yourself down.

Finally, when your breathing is stable enough, you finally speak. Your voice cracks, “Nick—”

“Don’t do that. That only makes me more worried,” he interrupts you. You can hear his bed creaking in the background as he shifts around nervously.

“Nick, I have something to tell you,” you whisper, wiping a stray tear away from your face.

“Just tell me already. You’re actually fucking scaring me and I hate this,” he’s becoming impatient. Nick’s mind is racing with all the possibilities, his protective insticts kicking in.

“Promise you won’t judge?” the pregnancy test feels heavy in your hands. The two blue lines stare back, taunting you as they dangle your future in your face.

“When have I ever judged you?” Nick’s voice is soft, he can tell that this is serious. He’s being gentle with you, almost like he’s afraid that if he comes at you incorrectly you’ll break.

You take another deep, shaky breath.

“Okay, so remember how I slept with that guy?” You chew on the inside of your cheek, desperate for a distraction as you try thinking of the best way to relay the information weighing heavy on your mind.

“Did he fucking do something to you?!” Nick’s mind immediately formulates the worst possible scenarios, each one worse than the last.

“No. Well, yes.”

“Y/n I swear to God! Why didn’t you tell me?!” You can hear the anger in his voice.

“Nick he didn’t do anything to me. I’m fine, I’m just…” your voice trails off, how were you supposed to tell your childhood best friend that you were pregnant?

“You’re just…” Nick tries squeezing the information out of you, he’s desperate to know. You’re so close to hanging up or even making up an excuse to ignore reality.

You bite the bullet, deciding that prolonging this didn’t change the truth. “I’m pregnant.”

Silence fills the atmosphere for the second time that night. Nick is both in shock and disbelief, and he feels a wave of sadness wash over him at the revelation.

“I was NOT expecting that,” he whisper shouts in disbelief, he doesn’t know what else to say. He isn’t judging you, but he is extremely concerned. I mean, you’re both just kids, and even if it’s definitely NOT his child he still feels an overwhelming sense of responsibility over it already.

“I don’t even know what I’m gonna do,” you whisper, the tears forming at your lash line. You’re one blink away from sobbing.

“It’s gonna be fine… we’re gonna be fine,” Nick replies, attempting to console you before you have a full breakdown. It’s no use.

“It’s not gonna be fine, Nick! I’m pregnant and I barely even remember the guys face! I’m in college for fucks sake! We’re not even mid-semester and I already fucked up,” you exclaim through loud sobs. Usually Nick would feel extremely uncomfortable listening to anyone cry, but you’re his best friend. If anything he wishes he could grow wings and fly to you so that he could engulf you in the biggest, strongest hug ever. His heart is breaking for you.

“Y/n—”

“Fuck! I’m gonna be the worst mom ever. I don’t even have a job, how am I gonna buy diapers? Where am I gonna live? With my parents? Dude, I still haven’t even told my parents. Not like they’d ever wanna talk to me again after this,” your words are coming out a mile a minute. You were start to overthink, every excruciating detail only adding to your unease.

Nick can’t get a single word in, your anxiety fueled rant ringing through his ears as you realize that the worst is yet to come, “Oh my God, I still haven’t told my parents. My mom’s gonna kill me! She’s gonna tell my dad and then he’s gonna cut me off and then I’m gonna be homeless AND pregnant!” The more you think, the more inconsolable you become. The cold bathroom tile hits the back of your head as you throw your head back.

“I’m gonna have to drop out, get a job, find an apartment and fucking tell this RANDOM guy that he’s gonna be a dad. What am I even gonna say? ‘SURPRISE! HERE’S YOUR BABY!’ I’m so fucked, Nick. I’m so fucked…” your breathing is erratic, the hysteria causing you to enter an anxiety attack. Nick can tell that everytime you breathe your sobs and hiccups inhibit you from taking a full breath.

Your eyes are shut tight as you clutch your chest, attempting to regulate your breathing. The wind is being knocked out of you, you’re hyperventilating and the snot that bubbles in your nostrils doesn’t help either. Mascara runs down your red face; you’re a sad, hopeless mess.

Nick finally gets a word in, your loud sobs being the only sound coming from you. “Y/n, listen to me. Take a deep breath… Everything is going to be fine!” He listens as you do as instructed, breathing in deeply before releasing a shaky exhale.

“I know this is hard and I can’t even imagine how you’re feeling, but I know that you’re scared,” he continues, pausing briefly to gather his thoughts.

“I want you to know that I’d NEVER let you do this alone, EVER. We’re gonna figure this out, I’ll fly over there tomorrow if I have to, but we’re figuring this out.” No one has ever put their life on pause like this for you before, it almost seems unreasonable and selfish for you to allow it.

You’ve calmed down significantly, your loud sobs being reduced to quiet whimpers. “You don’t have to do that, Nick.”

“You’re right. I don’t have to, but I want to. I’m gonna buy the ticket now, but you get some rest okay?” His voice is soft and gentle.

You know he’s tired, but you really need a friend right now. If you hang up, you’re sure to cry until there aren’t any tears left. “Can you stay on the phone with me?” you ask hesitantly, already feeling like a bother for calling at 4 in the morning.

A small, sad smile forms on Nick’s face, “Of course, anything for my bestie bae.” The corny nickname makes you laugh, the first sign of happiness since you called.

Every shared childhood memory is playing in Nick’s mind from the time he met you, to the time you defended him from high school bullies. There’s no doubt in his mind that you’re going to be an amazing mother, even if the circumstances are completely unexpected.

“Y/n?” he picks at his bed sheets, flicking pieces of lint onto the floor.

“Yeah?” you slowly get up from the bathroom floor, gently placing the pregnancy test on the sink before walking into your room.

“You’re gonna be such a good mom,” he admits. You crawl under the billowy comforter, bringing it up to your neck for some form of comfort. Nick’s words are reassuring and you feel so grateful to have a friend like him.

Suddenly it all doesn’t feel so scary.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n: this was honestly (loosely) based on my relationship with my best friend. I hope you enjoy hunny bunches!

luv ya! Thx for the req!

P.s ur the best anon for this request xx

- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01 @junnniiieee07 @sturniolololover @missriddle03 @k-l-a-w-s @hearts4chris @maryx2xx

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

note: requests are open, I will be writing as many as possible because you guys have sooo many good ideas. Please be patient 💗✨

[the-offside-rule]

Jack Doohan (Alpine) - Timezone

Day 15 of Christmas

Prompt: Christmas in Different time zones

25 Days of Christmas

Christmas morning was quiet in Switzerland, soft snow covering the ground outside as Y/n woke up, stretching beneath the warm blankets. Her phone buzzed beside her, lighting up with a notification. She reached for it, her heart fluttering as she saw the familiar name.

Jack: Happy Christmas, love! Couldn’t wait to open the present you got me, but I held strong. Hope you’re having the best morning!

She could picture him back home on the Gold Coast, the sunshine spilling through the windows, a world away from the frosty air outside her window. A smile spread across her face as she typed out a response.

Y/n: Happy Christmas, Jack! Just woke up to your message. I’m about to head downstairs to the family for presents. Talk soon!

Putting her phone down, she threw on a cozy jumper and headed downstairs, where her family was gathered around the tree, mugs of hot chocolate and coffee in hand. The house was filled with warmth radiating off the fireplace, laughter, and anticipation. They began opening presents, passing gifts around the room one by one. Amid the cheerful chaos, Y/n noticed the neatly wrapped gift with her name on it, resting at the foot of the tree where she left it when she got to Switzerland. Before the couple parted ways for Christmas, they switched gifts, both promising not to open them until they were both awake on Christmas Day, which for Jack was tortue considering he was ahead in time. She picked it up, her eyes catching a small note on top in Jack's familiar handwriting: Call me first.

Excited, she slipped away from the bustle, stepping onto the balcony for a little privacy, and dialed Jack’s number. He picked up almost immediately, grinning wide with a Santa hat perched on his head, the bright Australian sun glowing behind him. "Good morning, gorgeous!" He beamed. "I’m calling you live from sunny Australia, where we’re getting the Christmas barbecue ready. Mum insisted on the Santa hat." He said, leaning the phone onto a glass. "Good evening to you then!" She laughed, savoring the warm familiarity of his voice. "Alright, I’ve got your gift here. Opening it now?"

"Yes, ma’am! Go on, I’m dying to see if you like it." She unwrapped the package carefully, her heart racing as the paper fell away to reveal a stunning collection of delicate jewelry; dainty earrings, a silver bracelet with tiny charms, and her favorite chocolates nestled between each piece. She gasped, speechless. Jack’s face softened as he watched her reaction. "I wanted my girl to feel like a princess, especially when you’re back in the paddock next season. You deserve it all." Her eyes sparkled as she looked back at him. "Jack, this is perfect. Thank you. Now, you better open yours!"

Jack chuckled, carefully unwrapping the gift he had stashed under the tree for the last two weeks. Inside, he found the watch he’d been eyeing for months, now engraved with his initials. This particular watch caught his fancy as it had two clocks on it that you could adjust to whatever time you wanted, so he figured if he were to ever get it, he would put Gold Coast's tome and Y/n's Timezone, just so he knew when to check in eith everyone when he was away. Beside it lay his favourite cologne, a scent she’d always loved on him. He shook his head in disbelief, letting out a low whistle. "Y/n, this is unreal!" His voice was filled with surprise. "You didn’t have to do this; this is way too much."

"Just a little something to keep you on time for once." He smiled warmly. "Well, I think I’ll be wearing this every single day now." He held the watch up to his wrist, grinning before looking back at her. "Alright, Santa, are you coming with me to start breakfast?"

"For you? Always." He laughed, switching the camera as she brought him into the kitchen, setting up her phone so they could chat while she made breakfast alongside him. They laughed and swapped stories of past Christmas mornings, his voice a soothing presence as she cracked eggs and flipped pancakes, the sound of sizzling meat drifting over from his side of the world. He talked about the barbecue his family was setting up and promised to save her a spot for next year.

Eventually, with plates ready and family members starting to call him over, Jack sighed. "Guess it’s time I head back to them, huh?" She nodded, the pang of missing him catching up to her again. "Alright, I’ll let you get to your barbecue." She said, blowing him one last kiss. His face softened, eyes warm. "Merry Christmas, Y/n. I love you."

"Merry Christmas, Jack. Love you, too." They ended the call, both hearts full despite the miles between them. Throughout the day, their phones buzzed with updates and photos, each small moment bridging the distance and bringing them closer as they shared their Christmases across time.

[emperordinozenmon]

The Farmer’s Daughter

I came to the countryside to escape all the distractions and finally write my third novel, but instead, I found love—the biggest distraction of all. I arrived in the small town with nothing but my Foil SP Omnimon card Switch, earphones, phone, laptop, relevant chargers, and enough clothes to last me until I finished. The hostel I booked was a recently converted farm run by a family still figuring things out. That was fine; as long as I didn’t have to deal with a bunch of other people, I’d be good.

Or so I thought.

The moment I stepped out of the cab, I was greeted by a young woman in pigtails and overalls, with an adorable smile that practically lit up the countryside. My heart immediately whispered, “Marry this girl now!” My brain, being slightly more practical, suggested, “Maybe at least say hello first.”

I adjusted my bag, approached her, and said, “Hi, I have a reservation. It should be under Austin.”

She tilted her head slightly, her smile widening in a way that made my pulse race. “Austin… let’s see.” She opened a slightly battered logbook, her fingers skimming down the page. “Ah, there you are!” Her English was smooth, but her charming accent made it sound just a bit melodic. She tore a key off a hook and handed it to me.

“Thank you, Mrs…?” I trailed off, leaning in slightly, hoping to catch her name.

“Oh, I’m not married!” she said quickly, a faint pink coloring her cheeks.

“My name is Son Seung Wan but call me Wendy. I’m the main hostess here—and the daughter of the owner.”

“Well, color me impressed. I get the VIP treatment?” I teased, raising an eyebrow.

She laughed, the sound light and unrestrained. “Well, you’re one of our very first customers, so it only seems fair to make you feel special.” “You’re doing a pretty good job so far,” I said, unable to stop the grin spreading across my face.

Her eyes met mine for a beat longer than necessary, and for a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of us. Then she blinked and straightened, brushing a loose strand of hair back. “Oh, wait before you go—” She grabbed a scrap of paper, jotted something down, and handed it to me.

Curious, I glanced at the note. It was her number, along with a quick doodle of a smiley face.

“In case you need anything,” she said, her tone casual, but her lips curved in a way that hinted at mischief.

I met her gaze again, this time letting a wolfish smile creep onto my face. “Anything at all, huh?”

She rolled her eyes playfully, but there was no mistaking the slight blush on her cheeks. “Just don’t lose it, okay?”

“Not a chance,” I said, slipping the note carefully into my pocket. As I walked to my room, I realized I might not get much writing done here after all.

On my first morning at the farm, I woke up before dawn. The timezone difference still had me in its grip, but I didn’t mind. By breakfast, I had already managed to crank out four chapters—a personal best. What finally stopped me wasn’t writer’s block but the loud, insistent grumbling of my stomach.

Unable to ignore it any longer, I ventured outside in search of food. The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of hay and earth. As I rounded the barn, I spotted Wendy. She was busy moving bales of hay, her pigtails bouncing slightly with each effort. Dressed in her overalls and boots, she waved when she saw me, flashing that same adorable smile that had disarmed me yesterday.

My heart gave an uncharacteristic flutter.

I walked over without thinking, the words tumbling out of my mouth before my brain could catch up. “Hey, you need some help, pretty lady?”

Wendy’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, but she quickly covered it with a smirk. “Pretty lady, huh? That’s one way to get on my good side.”

I grinned. “It’s a start, isn’t it?”

She laughed lightly, then cocked her head. “I don’t know if a big city boy like you can handle it, though. This is real work, not whatever you call exercise up there wherever you're from.”

I shrugged, leaning casually against the barn door. “Can’t hurt to try.” She raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Alright, big guy. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

What I’d signed up for turned out to be far more than I expected. First, I helped her lug bales of hay across the barnyard, each one heavier than it looked. Wendy kept glancing at me, clearly waiting for me to give up, but I stubbornly matched her pace.

Next, we fed the animals—cows, chickens, and goats. At one point, a particularly ambitious goat tried to climb into the feed bucket I was holding, nearly knocking me over. Wendy doubled over laughing. “Looks like he’s winning, city boy!”

I managed to shoo the goat away, brushing off my jeans. “That goat’s got nothing on me.”

She smirked, handing me another bucket. “We’ll see.” We moved on to the horses, running a few of them on the track. I wasn’t entirely sure what I was doing, but Wendy coached me through it, her voice teasing but encouraging. She seemed genuinely impressed that I was keeping up.

Two and a half hours later, we finally finished. I wiped the sweat from my brow, trying to catch my breath. Wendy leaned against the fence, her face flushed from exertion but glowing with satisfaction.

“I’m shocked you made it this far, big boy,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Guess that size is good for something.”

“Hey, I used to be a college rugby star for New Mexico,” I countered, puffing out my chest a little.

She chuckled, the sound light and melodic. “A rugby star, huh? Explains the broad shoulders. Still, I’m not sure how you went from that to typing away in front of a laptop all day.”

I smirked, leaning against the fence beside her. “Guess I like to keep people guessing. But what about you? All this hard work—you could probably give a rugby team a run for their money.” Wendy tilted her head, pretending to think. “Maybe. But then who would be here to babysit city boys like you?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Fair enough. So, what’s next? More hay? Another goat to wrestle?” Her stomach growled audibly, and she shot me a sheepish grin. “Actually,

I was thinking food. But since you seem so eager, maybe I should keep you working.”

“Oh, no, food sounds perfect,” I said quickly. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from eating, after all.”

She rolled her eyes, tugging lightly at my sleeve. “Alright, come on, then. Let’s get something to eat before your stomach scares the animals.” “Hey, that was only once!” I protested, falling into step beside her.

As we walked back toward the house, I realized I wasn’t just enjoying the work or the fresh air—I was enjoying her company. Every glance, every smile, every teasing comment felt electric, like the start of something I couldn’t quite define.

Judging by the way her eyes lingered on mine, she might just have felt it too.

We made our way back to the farmhouse, Wendy walking a step ahead of me. She moved with an effortless confidence, her pigtails swaying as she chatted about farm chores and the antics of the animals. I tried to focus on her words—really, I did—but my eyes kept betraying me.

Her overalls fit snugly, hinting at the full, hourglass figure beneath them. It wasn’t just her curves, though; there was something about her—the way she balanced strength with an undeniable softness as if the hard work hadn’t taken away her natural femininity.

“You’re awfully quiet back there,” she said suddenly, turning to glance over her shoulder. Her smile was playful, but her eyes were sharp. “Something on your mind?”

I froze, feeling like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Oh, uh, just thinking about breakfast.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, raising an eyebrow but not pressing further. Inside, the kitchen was cozy and smelled like freshly baked bread and eggs. Wendy moved to the counter, grabbing a loaf from a breadbox and setting out a jar of jam. She gestured for me to sit while she began to plate some scrambled eggs.

As she worked, my eyes flickered again to the curve of her waist and the way her overalls clung to her hips. I quickly looked away, but it was too late.

“Caught you,” she said, her voice sing-song as she turned, a plate in hand and a smirk on her lips.

“Caught me doing what?” I asked, feigning innocence as I reached for the plate.

“Oh, come on,” she said, setting it down in front of me. She leaned on the counter, her smirk fading slightly as she added, “You’ve been sneaking glances since we left the barn. I’m flattered, really… but also kinda surprised.”

“Surprised?” I asked, genuinely confused. She sat down across from me, resting her chin in her hand. “Yeah. Guys usually go for someone… smaller, you know? All my friends back in school were skinny, and it always felt like they got all the attention. Me? Not so much.”

Her tone was light, but there was a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes. She picked at the edge of her napkin, avoiding my gaze. “I guess it’s just weird hearing compliments like that. I mean, I like food too much to diet, and I’m obviously not built to be dainty.” She gestured at herself with a half-smile. “Most of the time, I’m fine with it. But sometimes…”

She trailed off, shrugging as if to brush the thought away, but I could tell it lingered.

I opened my mouth to respond and immediately panicked, trying to think of something that wasn’t cheesy or dumb. Don’t tell her she’s pretty. Don’t tell her she’s perfect. That’s what every guy says, and it’ll sound hollow. Instead, I took a deep breath and said, “I think… it’s less about what most guys like and more about what’s real. And you, Wendy, are… real. Not trying to be something you’re not. That’s what’s striking about you. You’re just… you.”

Her eyes softened, and she blinked at me as if trying to decide if I was serious. “Real, huh?”

“Yeah,” I said, leaning forward slightly. “And for the record, you pull off ‘real’ better than anyone I’ve ever met.”

She laughed, some of the tension slipping from her shoulders. “You’re dangerously close to cheesy territory there, city boy.”

I grinned, holding up my hands. “What can I say? You make it hard to avoid.”

She rolled her eyes, but the smile she gave me was warm and genuine.

“Alright, alright. Eat your breakfast before you try to sweep me off my feet with more compliments.”

I picked up my fork, but before I took a bite, I looked at her and said, “For the record, I wasn’t trying to sweep you off your feet. Just… being honest.”

Her cheeks turned pink again, and she quickly looked away, but I noticed the small smile lingering on her lips.

As we ate, I couldn’t stop stealing glances at her—and this time, she didn’t seem to mind.

After breakfast, Wendy followed me to my room. I didn’t mind her company—something about her presence felt energizing, even as I worked. I settled at the small desk by the window, my laptop glowing softly in the morning light.

She perched on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, leaning slightly forward as if trying to peek at my screen. I was laser-focused on pounding out another few chapters, but the occasional snicker from her side of the room was hard to ignore.

“What’s so funny?” I asked after the third one, still typing.

“Oh, nothing. You just look so serious, like you’re solving the mysteries of the universe,” she teased, her tone light and playful.

"I am solving the mysteries of the universe…at least for these characters,” I said, glancing at her with a mock frown before turning back to my laptop.

“Sure you are,” she said, barely containing her giggles. For a while, I worked in relative silence, her occasional fidgeting and soft hums the only sounds besides my typing. Then, after what must have been half an hour, she broke the quiet.

“So… what’s this book about? I can see bits and pieces from here, but I can’t get the full picture.”

I paused, leaning back in my chair and stretching. “It’s about a Paladin of Justice who falls in love with a beautiful succubus. It’s meant to be a romantic comedy, mostly.”

Wendy tilted her head, her expression caught between curiosity and disbelief. “A succubus and a paladin? Is the paladin evil?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Nope. They’re both good. Or at least, trying to be. They’re in legitimate love with each other, despite all the odds stacked against them.” Her eyes widened slightly, genuine surprise flickering across her face. “Legitimate love? Like… no trickery, no spells?”

“None,” I said firmly.

She sat back, letting the idea sink in before asking, “So how do they meet? How do they fall for each other?”

I smiled lightly. “Mostly by happenstance. Boy meets girl, falls head over heels, and girl… well, she just happens to be a succubus. They figure out life and love together, and comedy ensues.”

Her lips curled into a smile. “That’s definitely unconventional. Why write something like that?”

I shrugged, spinning my chair slightly to face her. “It’s a creative way for me to address unconventional love. You know, exploring themes like acceptance and understanding, but in a fun, silly way that doesn’t carry the baggage of something like an interracial couple or other real-world dynamics.”

Wendy’s gaze narrowed slightly, her expression shifting to one of intrigue. “So… you use fantasy to confront reality?”

I nodded, a little surprised by her insight. “Exactly. It gives me room to be playful and honest at the same time.” She grinned triumphantly, leaning forward. “See? I can be smart too.”

I frowned, not understanding her tone. “I never said you weren’t smart. Never even thought it.”

Her confident grin faltered, and her cheeks flushed. “Sorry. It’s just… most city boys think I’m a country bumpkin. You know, farm girl, overalls, chickens clucking in the background… even though I graduated top of my class.”

I shook my head, the idea of anyone underestimating her irritating me more than I cared to admit. “Well, I’m not most city boys.”

Her blush deepened, but a smile tugged at her lips. “I’m learning that,” she said softly, her voice almost shy.

For a moment, the air between us felt heavier and warmer. Her fingers fiddled with the hem of her shirt, and I found myself watching the movement, wondering if I’d said the right thing.

Before I could overthink it, I leaned forward slightly, resting my elbows on my knees. “For the record, I think you’re brilliant. And if anyone’s ever made you feel like you’re less than that, they were idiots.”

Her eyes flicked to mine, wide and startled, and for a heartbeat, she didn’t say anything. Then her lips curled into a slow, genuine smile. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

“Dangerous how?” I asked, grinning.

“Dangerous because you say things like that and make me think you actually mean them,” she teased, but there was no hiding the warmth in her voice.

I turn to Wendy look her in her eyes and "I mean them,” I say simply, leaning back in my chair.

She laughed, the sound light and musical, and the tension melted away. “Alright, city boy. Keep working on your book. I’ll be here, judging your plot decisions silently.”

“Only silently?” I shot back.

“For now,” she said with a wink.

I finished another 3 chapters then we started the afternoon chores at the farm. I was a bit slower this time around but still managed to keep up with Wendy as she blitzed through them. She would often look back and smile at me

She'd occasionally ask, “Still alive city boy?” to which I respond “Yeah,” I felt bad though because my gaze would continually leer over her body and I had only just met her but I was already deeply infatuated with her Lunch at the farmhouse was as hearty and unpretentious as the setting itself: a steaming bowl of beef stew, fresh bread, and a crisp salad made from vegetables Wendy had likely picked herself. We sat across from each other at a small wooden table in the corner of the kitchen, sunlight filtering through the window and catching in her dark hair. The conversation flowed easily—Wendy had a knack for keeping things light and entertaining. She told me about the antics of the chickens that morning, gesturing animatedly, and I couldn’t help but smile at the way her eyes lit up when she spoke.

“Wait, you’ve never been chased by a rooster before?” she asked her tone equal parts mock disbelief and teasing.

“Not unless you count the time my high school mascot went rogue during homecoming,” I replied.

Wendy laughed, the sound like music before she stood abruptly. “Hold on. I forgot the chili paste. You’ve gotta try it—it’ll change your life.”

Before I could reply, she turned and walked toward the pantry. And just like that, I fell into a trance.

Her overalls clung to her in all the right places, accentuating the curve of her hips and the effortless sway of her walk. The straps framed her shoulders and the way her pigtails bobbed with every step felt almost hypnotic.

But it wasn’t just her figure—it was everything about her. The way she carried herself, confident and relaxed, without a shred of pretense. The way her voice softened when she talked about the farm, was full of pride and affection. The way she smiled like she knew exactly how to make the world a little brighter.

I was completely, hopelessly mesmerized.

“Enjoying the view?”

Her voice snapped me out of my thoughts, and I blinked, realizing she was standing right in front of me, the jar of chili paste in her hand and a knowing smile tugging at her lips.

“I, uh…” I stammered, my ears burning.

Wendy tilted her head, her grin widening. “Don’t stop on my account. You looked like you were thinking something very important.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to recover. “Just… admiring the architectural integrity of your pantry. Very sturdy shelves.” She laughed, setting the jar down on the table. “Sure you were.” Sliding back into her seat, she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “So? What’s your verdict?”

“On… what?” I asked cautiously.

“On the shelves,” she teased, her smile turning sly.

Caught, I let out a sheepish laugh and met her gaze. “Fine. You got me. I was thinking about you.”

Her brow arched, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Oh? And what exactly were you thinking?”

I hesitated the words balancing on the edge of my tongue. I wanted to tell her everything: how I thought she was stunning, how her laugh felt like sunlight breaking through clouds, how her presence made me forget everything else. But that felt way too heavy for lunch.

Instead, I smirked and said, “I was thinking chili paste might not be the only thing here that could change my life.” Wendy blinked, surprised, before laughing softly. “Wow. A city boy’s got some lines after all.”

“Not just any lines,” I said, leaning slightly closer. “Good ones.” She chuckled again, shaking her head but not looking away. For a moment, the playful banter fell away, replaced by something quieter and deeper. Her smile softened, and she reached for the jar, opening it with a casual grace that made my heart beat faster.

“Alright, Romeo,” she said, breaking the spell as she handed me the jar.

“Let’s see if you can handle this chili paste without crying.”

“Oh, you underestimate me,” I replied, grinning as I took it. As we ate, the tension lingered in the air, warm and electric, and I knew one thing for certain: I was falling for her.

After spending a few quiet hours resting with Wendy, she left to talk with her dad, Mr. Son. I turned my focus back to my writing, managing to chip away at another chapter, but I couldn’t shake the lingering feeling of her warmth beside me or the playful lilt of her voice.

A sharp knock at the door jolted me out of my thoughts. When I opened it, Mr. Son stood there, his broad shoulders framed in the doorway. His expression was as weathered as the land he worked on, and his eyes carried a weight that made me stand a little straighter.

“Mind if I come in?” he asked, though it wasn’t really a question.

“Of course, sir,” I replied, stepping aside as he entered.

He scanned the room, his gaze lingering on the open laptop and scattered notes on the desk before settling on me. Crossing his arms, he fixed me with a steely look. “What are your intentions with my daughter?”

The question hit me like a hammer. I expected it, sure, but hearing it aloud—especially in that gravelly tone—made my throat tighten. I let out a slow sigh and met his gaze. “I have a crush on your daughter, sir,” I admitted plainly.

Mr. Son’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. “That’s not good enough. I don’t trust city folk, especially not with my daughter. You’ll need to do better than ‘I have a crush.’”

I inhaled deeply, choosing my words carefully. “Your daughter is… incredible, sir. She’s smart, funny, and kind. She’s confident even when she feels insecure, and she has this strength that’s just—” I paused, searching for the right words. “She’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner. I’d marry her in a heartbeat if I could, have a family with her, and spend my life making her as happy as she makes me. She’s my dream girl, sir.”

Mr. Son tilted his head slightly, his sharp gaze studying me like a hawk sizing up its prey. “And what’s so special about her that makes her your ‘dream girl?’” he pressed.

I squared my shoulders, determined to answer honestly. “She’s beautiful, of course—anyone can see that. But it’s more than that. Wendy’s wit keeps me on my toes. Her caring nature makes me want to be better. And even with all the hard work she puts in here, she’s still soft—emotionally and physically—in a way that makes me feel grounded. She’s the kind of person who makes you want to fight for something worth keeping.” For a long moment, Mr. Son didn’t say anything. He just stared at me, his expression unreadable. Then he took a step closer, his presence towering despite my height advantage.

“You’re not like most city boys,” he said finally, his tone more curious than accusatory.

I nodded. “I try not to be.”

A flicker of something like amusement crossed his face, though it was gone as quickly as it came. “I’m not fully sold on you yet,” he admitted.

“But I’ll give you this—you don’t seem like you’d hurt her.”

“I wouldn’t,” I said firmly. “I couldn’t.”

He chuckled then, a low, gravelly sound that felt like the breaking of ice.

“Well, you’d better not. Because if you do, I’ll make sure everyone in town hears about it.”

“I believe you,” I replied with a small smile.

Satisfied, Mr. Son turned to leave but paused in the doorway. His tone softened slightly. “Wendy’s not like most girls. She’s been hurt before, and she’s always felt different from her friends because of how she looks. She needs someone who’ll see her for who she is and stick by her. Can you do that?”

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words. “I will, sir. I’ll take care of her. I swear it.”

He studied me for another beat, then nodded. “Good. But don’t forget—you screw this up, and it’s not just Wendy you’ll have to answer to.”

I let out a nervous laugh. “Understood.”

As he stepped out, I couldn’t help but add, “You’ve got nothing to worry about, though. I have way more to lose if I ever hurt Wendy. People like me… the world loves to see us fail. But I won’t give it that satisfaction—not with her.”

Mr. Son turned back, his expression shifting to one of faint surprise. “That’s an interesting way of looking at things,” he murmured. After a pause, his lips curved into a small, almost imperceptible smile. “Alright then. Have fun with Wendy.”

With that, he closed the door behind him, leaving me standing in the quiet room, my heart pounding in my chest. I’d passed the test—for now. But more than that, I felt a renewed sense of determination. Wendy was worth every effort, and I wasn’t about to let her—or her father—down. As my heart stopped racing I was surprised to get a text from Wendy asking me if I wanted to go on a double date. The idea of a double date had clearly put Wendy in a good mood. When she mentioned it to me earlier, her smile was equal parts nervous and excited. “Joy wants me to go with her, but I’m not going unless you’re coming too,” she’d said, almost shyly.

How could I say no to that? She asked me in a pretty sun dress she had decided to wear with nice leather boots.

So now we were seated at a polished, cozy restaurant with Joy and her date, a clean-cut guy named Jae who seemed charming enough—at first. Wendy and I sat across from them, sharing appetizers and easy banter.

Joy was effortlessly sociable, and she clearly enjoyed teasing Wendy, poking fun at her for being “so domestic” with her farm duties. But the teasing was lighthearted, and Wendy took it in stride, rolling her eyes and laughing along.

I leaned over to her. “She seems like trouble.” Wendy grinned, whispering back, “You have no idea.” The date was going well—right up until Jae tilted his head, squinting at Wendy like he was trying to place her.

“Wait a second,” he said, his tone sharpening with recognition. “You’re Han Wendy, aren’t you? We went to high school together.” Wendy tensed slightly but managed a polite smile. “Oh, yeah. Jae, right?” “Yeah, that’s me.” He leaned back in his chair, his grin turning smug. “Wow, I didn’t recognize you at first. You’re, uh… still living out on the farm, huh?” Wendy’s smile faltered. “Yeah, I am.” Jae laughed, a little too loudly. “Guess some things never change. I mean, who else could it be? I remember everyone used to call you Cow—what was the other one? Heifer, right?” The table went silent.

Wendy’s cheeks flushed, and I could see her trying to keep her composure, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of hurt. Before she could say anything, something snapped inside me. My chest tightened, my jaw clenched, and the words came out before I even realized what I was saying—my usual measured tone replaced by a thick, unmistakable Texas drawl. “Now hold on there, partner,” I said, my voice low and deliberate. “You best watch what you’re sayin’.” Jae blinked, startled. “What?”

“You heard me,” I said, leaning forward slightly, my eyes locking onto his. “Ain’t no one gonna sit here and call my woman names like that. You got somethin’ to say to her, you say it with respect, or you don’t say it at all.” The accent was as thick as molasses, and for a moment, even I was surprised by the force of it. But it worked. Jae’s smug expression faltered, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Jeez, man, I didn’t mean anything by it. Just a joke.”

“Well, it ain’t funny,” I shot back. “Wendy’s a better woman than you deserve to be sittin’ across from, and you’d do well to remember that.”

Jae muttered something under his breath, clearly not eager to push the issue further. Joy, wide-eyed, gave him a sharp elbow in the ribs. The rest of the meal passed with forced small talk, and when it was over, Wendy and I walked back to the car together in silence.

As soon as we were alone, she stopped, turning to face me. Her expression was unreadable at first, her dark eyes studying me intently. Finally, she broke into a smile, one that was equal parts amused and amazed. “My woman, huh?”

I scratched the back of my neck, feeling my cheeks heat. “It just… came out. I didn’t mean to make a scene or anything.”

“No,” she said quickly, her voice soft. “I mean… thank you. For standing up for me.”

I nodded, unsure of what to say, but then she took a step closer.

“You’re full of surprises, you know that?” she said, her tone playful but sincere. “Here I thought you were just some smart, sophisticated city boy. But turns out, there’s a little bit of a farm boy in you too.”

I chuckled nervously. “Grew up around a lot of cornfields. Guess some habits stick.”

Her smile deepened, and for a moment, she just looked at me, her gaze warm and filled with something I couldn’t quite name.

“I like it,” she said finally. “I like you.”

My breath caught, and before I could respond, she slipped her hand into mine, squeezing it gently.

“Come on,” she said, her voice light again. “Let’s get out of here before Joy tries to rope us into another one of her ‘fun ideas.’”

As we walked to the car, hand in hand, I couldn’t help but feel a new kind of certainty settle in my chest. Wendy wasn’t just someone I was falling for—she was someone I wanted to protect, cherish, and share every part of myself with, even the parts I thought I’d left behind.

And judging by the way her fingers laced with mine, I had a feeling she felt the same.

Here’s the revised and expanded version of the scene, where the narrator’s “Cornfed” side emerges and, with it, his comfort, affection for Wendy, and the eloquence of his pre-college self: The next morning, Wendy was knocking on my door bright and early.

“Up and at ’em, city boy!” she called. “We’ve got work to do!” Groaning, I dragged myself out of bed and opened the door. Wendy stood there, a hand on her hip and a teasing grin on her face, dressed in overalls and a straw hat.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” she said. “The chickens aren’t gonna feed themselves.”

I rubbed my eyes, giving her an exaggerated groan. “You’re way too cheerful for this early in the morning.”

She smirked. “Can’t help it. Gotta see if I can bring out more of that Cornfed Boy I saw last night. I know he’s in there somewhere.”

I rolled my eyes but grabbed my boots. “Alright, boss. Let’s see what you’ve got for me.”

At the chicken coop, Wendy handed me a basket and gestured toward the hens. “Alright, let’s see if you remember how to do this.”

I stepped inside, and the chickens clucked and fluttered nervously. A younger me might have hesitated, but something about being back on the farm—with Wendy watching expectantly—felt natural.

“Hush now, darlin’,” I murmured to a particularly noisy hen. “Ain’t no need for all that fussin’.”

Wendy straightened up, her grin widening. “Was that a little twang I just heard?”

I chuckled, crouching to collect the eggs. “You’re hearing things, Wendy. These chickens’ve got you spooked.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, leaning on the fence and crossing her arms. “City boy’s trying real hard to hide it, but it’s coming out.”

As I worked, I found myself relaxing more and more. The motions were familiar, and the weight of the basket in my hand felt like an old friend. By the time I handed the basket to Wendy, I wasn’t even thinking about hiding the accent that had crept into my voice.

“You’re pretty good at this,” she said. “Starting to think I’m not the only one who grew up around chickens.”

“Spent a few summers doin’ chores like this,” I admitted. “Dad wanted to keep me outta trouble, so he sent me to help out some neighbors. Learned a thing or two.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so you’re really Cornfed, huh?”

“Guess you’ll have to stick around to find out,” I replied with a sly grin. When it came time to muck out the stalls, Wendy handed me a pitchfork and leaned against the barn door.

“Alright, Mr. Cornfed,” she said, smirking. “Let’s see what you’ve got.” I didn’t even hesitate, rolling up my sleeves and setting to work. The smell wasn’t pleasant, but the rhythm of shoveling and tossing was oddly satisfying. As I worked, I found myself explaining the best way to handle stubborn spots and how to keep the bedding clean without wasting hay.

“You’re awfully good at this for a city boy,” Wendy teased.

I shrugged, leaning on the pitchfork for a moment. “It’s just about workin’ smarter, not harder. You gotta respect the process. Animals ain’t so different from people—give ’em a clean space, a little kindness, and they’ll take care of the rest.”

Her eyes softened, and she tilted her head. “You sound like you’ve been doing this your whole life.”

I smiled, my voice taking on a more thoughtful tone. “Maybe I forgot for a while, but it’s comin’ back to me. Feels… good, y’know? Like I’m findin’ a piece of myself I didn’t know I’d lost.”

She stared at me for a moment, her smile turning from teasing to something gentler. “I like this side of you,” she said softly. At lunchtime, we sat together on the porch, the sun warming our faces as we ate. Wendy had made sandwiches and sweet tea, and the simplicity of it all felt just right.

“You know,” I said, leaning back against the railing, “this is the kinda meal that sticks with you. Not just in your stomach but in your heart.” Wendy blinked at me, then laughed. “Wow. That was downright poetic.”

“Farm-work does that to a man,” I said, winking at her. She nudged me with her foot. “Alright, Shakespeare. What else you got?” I turned toward her, resting my arm on the railing. “I’ve got this,” I said, my voice softening. “You, sittin’ here in the sun, lookin’ like you belong to this place in a way most people never will. It’s beautiful, Wendy. You’re beautiful.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away, pretending to adjust her hat.

“You keep talking like that, and I might start believing you.”

“Good,” I said, my voice low but steady. “Because I mean every word.” By the time we got to the creek in the afternoon, I was more comfortable in my skin than I had been in years. Wendy led me to the water’s edge, kicking off her shoes and splashing into the shallows.

“You coming in, or are you too fancy for creek water now?” she teased.

I grinned, rolling up my pant legs and stepping in after her. “You forget,

I’m just a Cornfed boy at heart.”

She laughed, splashing me lightly. “Prove it!”

I splashed her back, and we spent the next few minutes chasing each other through the water, laughing and hollering like kids. At some point, I caught her by the hand and pulled her close, the cool water swirling around our legs as we caught our breath.

“Y’know,” I said, my voice dipping into a deeper drawl, “you’ve got a way of bringin’ out the best in me.”

Wendy tilted her head, her eyes shining. “Maybe because this is the best of you,” she said softly.

I smiled, brushing a strand of wet hair from her face. “Reckon you’re right.”

Her grin widened, and she leaned against my side as we waded to the bank to dry off. Sitting there together, the sun dipping low in the sky, I felt like I was finally whole again—and it was all because of her.

The next morning found me in the barn, fixin’ a loose latch on one of the horse stalls Wendy had mentioned yesterday. Sunlight spilled through the slats in the wood, catchin’ on the dust motes hangin’ lazy in the air. I was whistlin’ low and easy as I worked, pausin’ now and again to make sure the latch lined up just right.

“Didn’t expect to find you out here this early,” came a familiar voice from the barn door.

I straightened up and turned to see Mr. Son leanin’ against the frame, arms crossed, his gaze as steady and sharp as ever.

“Mornin’, sir,” I said, brushin’ my hands off on my jeans. “Latch was givin’ your horse some trouble, so I figured I’d see to it. Ain’t no sense lettin’ a small thing turn into a big problem.”

His eyebrows lifted, though he didn’t comment right away. Instead, he stepped inside, his boots scuffin’ softly against the wood. “You’ve been keepin’ yourself busy,” he remarked.

I nodded, settin’ the screwdriver aside. “Just tryin�� to pull my weight. Wendy’s been workin’ circles ’round me, so I figured I’d better start earnin’ my keep.”

He chuckled low, though his tone stayed cautious. “That so?” “Yessir,” I said, leanin’ a little against the stall door. “Place like this needs constant care, and I reckon there’s no better way to show I’m serious than to put in the work.”

Mr. Son studied me for a long moment, his eyes squintin’ like he was seein’ me for the first time. “You’re talkin’ different than you did a couple days ago,” he said finally.

I shrugged, a faint grin tuggin’ at my lips. “Guess bein’ here brings it out of me. I spent my summers on farms like this when I was younger. Dad thought it was important I learn how to work with my hands, so he sent me to help out local folks who needed it. This life kinda gets under your skin—it stays with you.”

His expression shifted slightly, though his arms stayed crossed. “Didn’t expect a city boy to know his way around a barn.”

“Well,” I said, straightenin’ up and leanin’ on the stall door, “city boy’s just the surface. Dad was a professor, and he believed in groundin’ his kids with hard work. Every summer, I’d wake up before dawn, shovel stalls, fix fences, harvest crops—whatever needed doin’. Taught me a lot about patience and pride in a job well done.”

His gaze softened, though he didn’t uncross his arms just yet. “That’s rare these days. Most young folks wouldn’t know the first thing about how to fix a fence, let alone stick with it.”

“Yessir,” I said with a small nod. “There’s somethin’ about seein’ the results of your work—somethin’ real, y’know? Even when I was back in the city, stuck at a desk or in a lecture hall, part of me always missed this. The smell of the earth, the ache in your muscles after a long day, the quiet satisfaction of buildin’ somethin’ with your own two hands.”

Mr. Son looked me over again, his eyes narrowing like he was weighin’ my words. “You’ve changed,” he said slowly.

“Maybe,” I replied, smilin’ a little. “Or maybe I’m just settlin’ back into the part of me I tried to leave behind.”

His chuckle was quieter this time, almost thoughtful. “When you first showed up, I figured you were one of those smooth-talking city types. Someone who’d sweet-talk my daughter and leave her with nothin’ but heartbreak.”

“I get why you’d think that,” I said, my voice steady. “But sir, Wendy’s more than just a pretty face to me. She’s…” I paused, searchin’ for the right words. “She’s the kind of woman who makes you wanna be better, just by bein’ around her. And I don’t take that lightly.”

Mr. Son’s shoulders relaxed a little, though his eyes stayed sharp. “You ain’t just talkin’, are you?”

“No, sir,” I said firmly. “I’ve got every intention of stickin’ around, so long as she’ll have me. And if that means puttin’ in the work, then I’ll do it. Whether it’s muckin’ stalls or mendin’ fences, I’m here for the long haul.” For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just looked at me like he was seein’ something he hadn’t expected. Finally, he nodded. “Well, I’ll be damned. Didn’t think I’d see the day a city boy walked into my barn and left actin’ like a college-educated cowboy.”

I chuckled, rubbin’ the back of my neck. “Life’s funny that way, I guess.” He stepped closer, clappin’ a hand on my shoulder. “You keep showin’ me this side of you, and I might just start callin’ you somethin’ other than city boy.”

“I’d like that,” I said with a grin.

As he turned toward the door, he glanced back. “And your writin’? How’s that comin’ along?”

“It’s goin’ great,” I said, my grin widenin’. “Almost halfway done now. Somethin’ about bein’ here… it clears my head. The words’ve been comin’ easier than they ever did back in the city.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “That’s good. Just don’t forget where your priorities are.” “Yessir,” I said with a nod.

When he left, I leaned against the stall, feelin’ a quiet kind of satisfaction. The city had polished me up, sure, but bein’ here had reminded me of who I really was. And I wasn’t just writin’ a novel—I was rebuildin’ myself, piece by piece, with every nail I hammered and every word I wrote.

The morning sun was sittin’ high by the time Wendy finished her chores and wandered over to where I was perched on the porch, takin’ a breather with my notebook open in my lap. She was glowing, as she always seemed to be after a morning of wranglin’ chickens and tendin’ to the garden. Her hair was tucked up under her straw hat, a streak of dirt smudged on her cheek that only made her look more radiant.

“Whatcha workin’ on?” she asked, leanin’ against the porch railing and squintin’ down at the notebook like she could read it upside-down.

“Just hammerin’ out some details for the next chapter,” I said, smilin’ up at her. “Want a peek?”

Her face lit up like I’d offered her the keys to a candy shop. “You serious? I’d love to!”

I handed over the notebook, watchin’ as she plopped down on the porch swing beside me. She tucked one leg under herself, balanced the notebook on her knee, and began readin’ with an intensity that made me feel like a schoolboy waitin’ on a grade.

Her lips moved faintly as she read, and every so often, her eyes widened or her brow furrowed, her reactions tellin’ me more than words ever could. When she finally closed the notebook, she let out a breath and turned to me, her gaze so earnest it made my heart skip a beat. “This is really good,” she said, her voice soft but certain.

“You think so?” I asked, my voice comin’ out a little rougher than I intended.

“Yeah,” she said, noddin’ like she was tryin’ to convince me as much as herself. “I love your use of imagery. Like here”—she flipped back a page and pointed—“when you described the sunset as ‘a lazy cat stretchin’ across the horizon, all claws of pink and gold.’ That’s such a vivid, unexpected image, but it fits perfectly.”

I scratched the back of my neck, feelin’ heat creep up under my collar. “Well, uh, thanks.”

“And the foreshadowing!” she continued, her enthusiasm bubblin’ over. “It’s subtle, but it’s there, like breadcrumbs leadin’ the reader without them even realizin’ it. And your style—it seems simple at first, but the more I read, the more layers I see. It’s like a quilt, each piece tellin’ its own story but all stitched together into somethin’ whole.”

I couldn’t help but grin. “You sure do talk pretty, Wendy. Soundin’ downright college-educated there.”

She laughed, leanin’ back against the swing. “That’s because I am. I’ve got a doctorate in literary sciences and linguistics.” The notebook nearly slipped from my hands. “You’re pullin’ my leg.”

“Nope.” She beamed, sittin’ up straighter. “Defended my dissertation three years ago. I studied how storytelling shapes language development in children and how it’s tied to intelligence across cultures.” I let out a low whistle. “Well, I’ll be. Here I was thinkin’ I was impressin’ you, and you’ve probably forgotten more about literature than I’ll ever know.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” she said, tappin’ my notebook with a playful smirk. “You’ve got talent. And it’s not just your imagery or style—it’s the way you understand people, their struggles and joys. That’s the kind of thing no amount of study can teach you.”

“Guess I had a good teacher, then,” I said, thinkin’ back to my dad and the way he’d always read to us as kids, his voice deep and steady, drawin’ me into worlds far beyond our little farm.

That comment must’ve sparked somethin’, because soon we were knee-deep in a conversation about the role of stories in human history. Wendy talked about how oral traditions preserved culture and passed down knowledge long before writin’ was a thing, and I chimed in about how even now, stories are how we make sense of a world that don’t always make sense on its own.

Her words were sharp and insightful, but there was a warmth to ’em, too, like she wasn’t just speakin’ from her head but from her heart. And the more we talked, the more I found myself leanin’ into a rhythm I hadn’t felt in years. My words slowed, pickin’ up a drawl I hadn’t noticed before, and my thoughts came together like rows of crops, neat and orderly, every idea growin’ from the one before it.

By the time we circled back to my novel, I realized the city boy I’d been tryin’ to be all these years had vanished like smoke on the wind. What was left was me—plain and simple. A man who loved the land, loved the work, and, if I was bein’ honest, was startin’ to think he might love the woman sittin’ beside him, too.

“You know,” I said, my voice lower and softer than it’d been in years, “I reckon I’ve learned more sittin’ here talkin’ to you than I ever did in a lecture hall.”

Wendy smiled, her eyes crinklin’ at the corners. “That’s sweet, but I think you’ve had it in you all along. You just needed the right person to bring it out.”

“Well,” I said, settlin’ back against the swing, “ain’t no one better for the job than you, darlin’.”

The word slipped out natural as breath, and when she looked at me, her eyes wide and her cheeks pink, I knew there wasn’t a lick of the city left in me. I was home, in every sense of the word.

The evening had settled into that perfect sweet spot where the sun had just dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky a soft lavender, with the warmth of the day still lingering in the air. Wendy and I were dressed a little nicer than usual for tonight’s double date, but still, nothing fancy. Wendy wore a simple sundress, her hair flowing freely in the warm breeze, and I had on a button-down shirt that was slightly wrinkled from the long day on the farm.

Joy and Arbor arrived shortly after we did, with Arbor flashing me a grin that told me he was fully aware of what he was about to witness. Arbor had always been an easy-going guy, someone I could always depend on during the roughest farm days, but I hadn’t seen him in a while since I’d been away at college. And now? Well, now I was feelin’ like a completely different man, for better or worse.

Wendy gave him a quick hug, and then we all sat down at a cozy corner booth at the little family-owned restaurant. The conversation started easy enough—Joy asking about the farm, Wendy laughing at some old memory I had of accidentally dropping a whole bucket of feed into the wrong stall, and Arbor sitting back with a knowing smile, looking from me to Wendy with a strange amusement.

At some point, Arbor’s eyes flicked over to me. He paused mid-sentence, setting his glass down. “You know, Austin,” he said, drawing out my name like he was testing it on his tongue, “it’s funny. I barely recognized you when I first walked in. I mean, you’re like… a whole new person.” I shot him a glance, raising an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He chuckled, leaning back in the booth, crossing his arms over his chest. “I used to know you as that city kid, always talkin’ about how you couldn’t wait to leave the farm and go back to the hustle and bustle of college life. And now look at you.” He gestured to my shirt, the way I was sitting—relaxed, comfortable, with a quiet confidence I hadn’t exactly had back in the day.

“Well, I did spend a few years learning how to blend in with the city folks,” I said with a chuckle, though the words didn’t quite fit right in my mouth anymore. “Guess I was hopin’ I could shake off the farm life a bit.” Arbor raised his eyebrows, giving me a look that said he knew better. “You sure you’ve shaken it off? I mean, not that I’m complainin’, but you’ve got a whole different energy now. You talk slower, sit straighter… and I swear to God, you even sound different. I can hear that Southern drawl comin’ out now. You’re startin’ to sound like a damn cowboy, Austin. Hell, you even look like one.”

I could feel my face heat up, and I scratched the back of my neck awkwardly, glancing over at Wendy. She was smiling at me with a gleam in her eyes, clearly enjoying the show. I leaned forward, catching Arbor’s gaze. “Guess the farm has a way of rubbin’ off on a fella. Guess I’m just more comfortable here. More at home, y’know?”

Arbor didn’t look surprised, but there was a touch of nostalgia in his eyes as he leaned forward. “Yeah, I get that. Used to be you’d complain about every single chore, but now you’re workin’ alongside it all, like it’s second nature to you. You’ve really found your place, huh?”

I let out a slow breath, glancing down at my hands. “Funny how things change when you’re not tryin’ to force ‘em. I didn’t expect to end up here, but here I am. Feels like I’ve found somethin’ that I’ve been missin’.”

Arbor studied me for a moment before nodding slowly. “You’re happier here, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” I said simply, my voice a little more sure of itself. “Guess I am.” Wendy, who had been quietly watching the exchange, leaned over to me, her voice soft but warm. “I think it’s more than just the farm, though. It’s who you’ve become. Who you really are.”

I felt a rush of something in my chest. She was right. It wasn’t just the farm. It was the way I’d come back to myself, to the boy I used to be, before all the city pressures and the desire to be something I wasn’t. This… this felt like the real me.

As the conversation moved on, I noticed that Arbor was glancing over at me every now and then, like he was piecing something together in his mind. Finally, he put his glass down, looked me dead in the eye, and said,

“I’ve been thinkin’ about it. You know, when we were workin’ together back in the day, I always saw you as a city kid tryin’ to find his way in the world. But now? Now you’re more grounded. More… at peace with yourself. Hell, I don’t know if it’s the farm, or Wendy, or just you finally growin’ up, but I gotta say… it’s a damn good change.”

Wendy smiled at the comment, but I could see something flicker behind her eyes—pride, maybe? Maybe even something deeper. Something between the two of us that I wasn’t ready to name yet, but I could feel it growin’ every time we spoke, every time we shared a quiet moment. I smiled back at Arbor. “Thanks, man. I guess it’s been a good ride so far.” Arbor winked. “Well, I’ll be damned, Austin. I think you’ve finally come home.”

The night had wound down, the warmth of the evening still hanging in the air as we walked back to the farm. The others had already gone, laughing and chatting as they made their way home, leaving Wendy and me alone under the deep velvet sky, the stars twinkling like diamonds above.

We walked side by side, the soft crunch of gravel beneath our boots the only sound, and yet, everything felt so loud—like the world was holding its breath. I couldn’t help but glance over at her every so often, her profile illuminated by the faint glow of the porch light up ahead.

There was something about the way she carried herself now. It wasn’t just her beauty—though God, she was beautiful—but the way she held the world around her like it was hers to nurture. It was the way she talked, the way she laughed, the way she loved this farm and everything it stood for. And it was the way she made me feel like I belonged here too.

We stopped just outside the door, and for a moment, everything went quiet. The door was just a few feet away, but neither of us moved. I felt her presence like a pull, like gravity, and I couldn’t look away from her.

“You know, you really have changed, Austin,” she said softly, her voice full of affection, her eyes warm as they met mine.

I shifted my weight, unsure how to respond to that, but before I could think of anything to say, she continued, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.

“I mean, I loved the city boy at first,” she started, eyes twinkling with mischief, “but now? Now I get to see my cowboy come alive. And it’s… honestly the best thing ever. I didn’t know it could feel this good, watching someone finally shed their old skin and become who they really are.”

I felt my heart skip a beat at her words. I could see it in her eyes, in the way she spoke about it, how proud she was of me—not just for the changes I’d made, but for being me. The me that was finally here, in the place I was meant to be.

Wendy took a step closer, and for a moment, I thought she might say something more, but instead, she grinned, her eyes sparkling with a playful glint.

“You know,” she started, voice dropping a little lower, “I think I’m gonna claim you, Austin.”

I blinked, caught off guard, and she raised an eyebrow at me. “Claim me?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow of my own, unsure of where she was going with this.

“Yeah,” she said with that same mischievous grin. “I mean, I might have to brand you, you know? Just to make sure everyone knows you belong to me.”

My mouth went dry. I laughed, trying to keep my cool, but there was something so serious in her expression that made me pause, my heart racing.

“You’re gonna brand me?” I asked, a grin spreading across my face despite the nervous flutter in my chest.

“Yep,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest with an air of finality. “I’ll get one of those hot irons and press it right on your arm—just a little mark, so you know, everyone knows you’re mine.”

I just stared at her, dumbfounded. My heart was pounding, and my throat felt a little dry.

She was so sure of it, her face beaming with joy, and I couldn’t help but be absolutely enthralled by her excitement. The way she spoke about it, the way she was so open, so confident in her love, it left me speechless.

“Wendy,” I murmured, unable to find the right words at first, but then, something shifted. Her energy was so infectious, so full of life, that I finally found my voice. “You… you make me feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

She laughed, her face lighting up at my response. “Well, that’s the point,” she said, her voice softening just slightly as she reached up to place a hand on my chest, feeling the steady beat of my heart. “I want you to feel like that. I want you to feel like you belong here, with me.” I couldn’t take it anymore. I reached for her, pulling her closer and pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. The way she fit into my arms, how easy it felt to hold her—it was like she was meant to be there. Like we were meant to be here, together.

“Wendy,” I said again, this time, my voice more steady, more sure. “I… I’ve never known anything like this before. You’ve made me realize so much, and I—” I stopped myself, then took a deep breath. “I love you. I love everything about you.”

She pulled back slightly, looking up at me with wide eyes, her lips parted in surprise. And then, a smile spread across her face, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears as she reached up, cupping my face in her hands. “I love you too, Austin,” she whispered, her voice full of emotion. “I never thought I’d find someone like you. Someone who would make me feel this way.”

For a long moment, we just stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside fading away. There were no words left to say, because everything we needed to communicate had already been said in that one simple moment.

And then, with that same mischievous glint in her eye, she looked up at me again and said, “Now… about that brand?” I couldn’t help but laugh, my heart swelling with affection for this woman who had not only claimed my heart but had made me see the world in ways I never imagined.

“Guess I’ll just have to take you up on that,” I teased, grinning down at her. “But I’m pretty sure there’s nothin’ more permanent than the way you’ve already got me.”

And with that, she laughed, the sound filling the night air, and for the first time in my life, I realized just how right it felt to be exactly where I was—with her, in this moment, in this life we were building together. The night moved on after that, filled with lighthearted chatter, but my mind kept wanderin’ back to Arbor’s words. You’ve finally come home. And for the first time in a long while, I realized… he was right. This was home. With Wendy. With the farm. With everything that had come together. The world around us faded away, the only thing left in focus was Wendy in my arms. Her breath was steady, but I could feel her heart thumpin’ against my chest, beatin’ in time with my own. She pulled back just enough to look up at me, those eyes of hers piercin’ right through me like she could see deep down into my soul. I’d always prided myself on bein’ a man of steady hands and steady nerves, but now, standin’ here with her, I realized she could shake my whole world with just a look.

Her smile, soft but sure, sent a shiver through me. When she leaned in just a bit closer, pressin’ herself up against me, the air got thick, heavy with something that felt like it was pullin’ me deeper. My heart pounded, my breath caught. It wasn’t just the way she looked—it was the way she made me feel. She had a way of makin’ everything around her seem so real, so vivid, that it felt like nothin’ else mattered but the two of us. Her hand slid from my chest to my jaw, gently tracing the line of it like she had every right to be there. I was dizzy from the way she made me feel, lightheaded with the power of it. “You’re incredible, you know that?” she whispered, her voice low, warm, full of affection.

I had to swallow hard, tryin’ to keep my composure, but truth be told, she’d already knocked that all to hell. “I’m just a fella who loves you, Wendy,” I managed to get out, my voice rough from the weight of it all. Her grin stretched even wider, and damn if it didn’t make the world brighter. “Well, lucky for you, I love you back, cowboy,” she teased, but I could hear the sincerity in her voice, feelin’ it in my bones. No question in my mind now. We were in this together.

She must’ve felt the shift in me ‘cause her smile softened, her fingers threading through my hair like she wasn’t ever gonna let me go. I could feel the weight of her touch, the way it anchored me, and I wasn’t goin’ anywhere.

“Wendy…” I whispered her name like a prayer, my chest tight as I fought for air. “You… You make me feel like I’m alive, like I’m real.”

She pulled back just a hair, steadyin’ herself before meetin’ my gaze. “I am real, Austin,” she said, voice firm and steady, like she was claimin’ her place in the world, like she was tellin’ me and the whole damn world that she was here to stay. And that confidence, hell, it was somethin’ I’d never seen before. “And I’m not afraid of bein’ who I am. Not anymore. Not with you.”

Her words hit me like a damn freight train, and I felt the grip she had on me, both physically and emotionally, as strong as a rope lassoed tight ’round my heart. She held me with a strength I hadn’t known anyone could possess, the quiet power of a woman who knew exactly who she was and wasn’t afraid to show it. And damn, it made me fall harder for her.

Her hand moved from my chest to my face, her thumb tracing across my skin, and I couldn’t stop lookin’ at her. My gaze drank her in, savorin’ every curve, every line, every inch of her. She had me in the palm of her hand, and I didn’t want to be anywhere else.

“I’ve never been this sure about anything in my life,” she said softly, almost like a confession. “Not just about us, but about me. About everything.”

Her words, full of certainty, confidence, and self-assurance, made my chest swell. I didn’t know what it was about her, but she made me feel seen, like I wasn’t just some guy from the city tryin’ to make a life. I was somebody. I was hers. And she was mine.

I pulled her in closer, my hands cuppin’ her face like she was somethin’ too precious to let go of. “You’re incredible, Wendy. I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone like you.”

She tilted her head, her eyes steady on me, that smile of hers not just a smile anymore but a damn promise. It was a promise that she was mine, and I was hers. And that made everything feel right in the world.

She leaned in, close enough now that I could feel her breath on my lips, whisperin’ soft as silk, “You’re mine, cowboy. All mine.” And in that moment, all the walls, all the doubts, the pieces of me that were still unsure—hell, they were gone. There wasn’t a single trace of that old life left. No more “city boy.” There was just me, the cowboy, standin’ here with her, and I was complete.

My heart raced, but this time, it was a good kind of fast. And as she held me tight, her confidence spillin’ into me like a steady stream, I couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest son of a gun in the world.

The soft glow of the evening sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm, golden hue over the room. Donny lay on his back on Wendy’s bed, his arm casually draped around her as she nestled into the crook of his shoulder. Her forehead grazed his jaw as she shifted to get more comfortable. The faint scent of her skin, a mix of something sweet and wild, lingered in the air between them.

Wendy sighed, her breath warm against his chest as she traced lazy circles on his stomach with her fingers. “You know, for all the chaos in our lives, moments like this make it feel… simple,” she murmured.

“Simple, huh?” Donny chuckled softly, his voice rumbling in his chest. “I don’t think anything about us is simple”

She smirked, glancing up at him with a playful glint in her eyes. “Okay, maybe not simple. But… I like that when I’m with you, everything else fades away,” she teased, giving them a gentle shake for emphasis.

My smile deepened as his hand slid down to her back, gently brushing my fingers against the small of her back just above her waist. She tensed for a moment, then relaxed, her body responding to my careful, affectionate touch. My fingertips traced the soft membrane of her back, moving slowly so as not to overwhelm her.

“You know, this is still new for me,” Wendy said softly, her voice betraying a mixture of vulnerability, contentedness, and curiosity. “I’m not used to… anyone touching me. Especially with them being so sensitive,”

“Does it hurt?” I asked, my voice gentle as my fingers continued their slow, calming strokes along her shoulder blades.

“No, it’s… actually kind of nice, too nice” she admitted, a small smile playing at her lips as she nestled closer to me.

My other hand found its way to her tummy, gently running along the length of it with the same care he’d shown her back. Wendy’s eyes fluttered closed as she melted further into my embrace, a soft sound of contentment escaping her lips.

“You always know how to make me feel safe,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s the plan,” I said with a smile, my touch never faltering as I pet her tummy and shoulders in slow, soothing patterns. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me now.”

Her eyes softened as she rested her cheek against my chest again, listening to the steady rhythm of my heartbeat. “Good. Because I can’t imagine going through all of this without you.” There was a vulnerability in her voice now, one she rarely let show. “You ground me, Austin. When I’m with you, I feel like I can handle whatever’s coming.”

I shifted, tightening my arm around her as I pulled her closer. “You’re stronger than you think, Wendy. You don’t need me to handle anything. But… I’ll be here anyway. Always.”

She smiled at that, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “That’s the thing. You always make me feel stronger. But I don’t want to be strong all the time. Sometimes I just want to be… here. With you. Like this.”

“I think I can live with that,” I said, my fingers continuing their gentle exploration of her body. “Besides, it’s not like I’m exactly looking for an excuse to be anywhere else.”

Wendy tilted her head up to look at me, her expression mischievous now. “Is that so? What if I told you I was going to turn into a giant succubus monster and you’d have to deal with all my dramatic mood swings forever?”

I raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a smirk. “Then I’d say bring it on.

I can handle your mood swings. I’ve already got a pretty good track record with you.”

She gave me a light smack on the chest, though there was no real force behind it. “Jerk.”

“Hey, you love it,” I teased, dipping my head to kiss her again, this time on the lips, lingering just a little longer.

Wendy grinned against my mouth, her hand sliding up to cup the side of my face. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

We lay there in silence for a while after that, the quiet between us comfortable and full of unspoken promises. The world outside felt far away, the weight of our lives reduced to nothing in the warmth of our shared space. Finally, Wendy broke the silence, her voice soft but steady. “No matter what happens… no matter who or what comes for us… I’ll always fight for you, Austin.”

I looked down at her, my heart swelling at the determination in her eyes. “And I’ll always be there, fighting right beside you. We’re in this together.” She smiled, that familiar spark of playful mischief returning to her gaze. “Good. Because I’m not letting you off the hook. Ever.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I murmured, my lips brushing hers once more as my hand found its way back to her cheeks, caressing them tenderly, sealing the quiet vow we both knew we'd keep for as long as it took—through every storm and shadow.

As we settled back into each other’s arms, the world could wait. For now, it was just us. As I continued to trace lines and trails around Wendy’s body

[ageofevermore]

ITS BRIGHTER NOW

SUMMARY — until you met your girls, you once believed love would be burning red, but it turns out, it’s everything in between, and that couldn’t be more golden. i wanna be defined by the things that i love, not the things i hate, not the things that i’m afraid of, not the things that haunt me in the middle of the night, i just think that you are what you love

PROMPTS — “sorry, we didn’t mean to wake you” & “will you stay with me?”

WARNINGS — mentions of battle, injury, anxiety, overall just fluff and comfort for arguably the best avengers and their girlfriend

Like every relationship, yours has its ups and downs. Although most times, you’re met with nothing but outstanding partners who try their absolute hardest to maintain open communication and boundaries, they’re still human, and Avengers, and while some consider that a fairytale circumstance, not many stop to think about how challenging it can be at its worst moments. Not many people, or any at all who aren’t in the lifestyle or one similar, think about how they’re gone for days at a time, sometimes weeks or months if it’s an undercover mission, and how when they finally do get back, they’re never the same as how they left. But honestly, how could they be? They’ve done things no average citizen would ever be expected to do, seen things and handled situations that are dangerous and traumatizing, and just like anyone else, those things haunt them. Wanda is better about unpacking those skeletons in her closet then Natasha is, but the both of them take things personally, and if things go south, it’s never good.

Both of your girlfriends had been gone from the compound for days. They’d been called out to an active Hydra base in Russia, and three days later, things had gone south and they’d been in active combat since. You didn’t talk to them much, with battles and timezones and everything else that got in your way, but you had heard through the grapevine that Wanda was pretty banged up and Natasha had been left with no choice but to shoot to kill after a particularly gruesome fight. Hearing that never got any easier, especially when they were halfway across the world and had no idea when they’d return. It was missions like these that made you yearn for a simpler life. One where Wanda was an artist, Natasha probably took up something flexible like tattooing, and you did literally anything else to just have some peace and quiet and promised safety.

You had met Natasha first, after Maria recruited you to join Shield. She had been skeptical of you, as she was of everyone, but you broke down her walls as easily as you’d picked the lock to Clint’s farm the one time you were placed on a strike mission together. She had been hurt pretty badly, and his farm was the closest place to land. That had been an interesting day, no thanks to your girlfriend who was draped across your arm with a shallow bullet wound and a startled Laura who was screeching about blood on her new couch. Things with Clint were still chaotic as ever, but he eventually got over you busting his brand new lock, and the two of you joked about it now, although now you had a key so no locks had to be busted in the event of an unplanned visit happening again. When you met Wanda, she fell into your dynamic easily, and at first, neither you nor Natasha had realized that you’d kind of adopted her as a third girlfriend until a drunken night when she ended up in your bed and never left. Now, sleeping without them is hard, but you’re forced to manage as best as you can, seeing as you don't really have much of a choice.

It was going onto the sixth night without them home when you finally retired from the couch, and decided to head to bed, figuring that at two in the morning there was no chance of them coming back until the next morning at the earliest. It was hard enough when one of them was on an active mission with no return date, but when both of them were gone, it truly felt like your heart was missing from your chest and you were just going through the motions and holding your breath until they got back. Most people only had one person to worry about, but having two people to lose, with jobs in this line of work, you felt like you were always looking over your shoulder and expecting the worst. As often as they could, your girlfriends declined missions together, even though they felt comfortable on the battlefield together and it was a comfort to not be alone, but neither one of them wanted to risk not coming home to you. They didn’t have a choice this time, so reluctantly they packed up their duffles and headed for the quinjet, with a kiss on your head and a promise that they would fight to come home to you, that they would try to make it back. There were still two mugs of tea on the countertop in the mini kitchen, and although it was disgusting and the tea had gone bad, you couldn’t bring yourself to clean them up. If that was the last thing they ever touched with you, when they were just Wanda and Natasha and not Avengers, you wanted the picture of mismatched mugs burned into your eyelids for the rest of your life. They deserved to be remembered as real, genuine, soft and stubborn, sometimes infuriating but lovable and loved people, not just heroes who had a cause when things went south.

You tossed and turned for probably an hour, groaning in annoyance for how empty your bed felt without them. How had you gotten so attached? That was the one thing you’d tried your hardest not to do when you got into this, and yet here you are, in Natasha’s t-shirt and Wanda’s panties, unable to sleep because the bed feels too cold and the walls feel too big and the room feels too empty and your heart feels misplaced. You’d heard somebody say love is golden once, not burning red, and you’d never understood that until a moment like this a few years ago, when Natasha left for the first time and you were utterly alone in the tower. They were golden, they were light, they were pouring rain in the middle of the day with the sun shining and not a cloud in sight, and they are the best moments of your life that you wish you could frame in a moving picture, because no, a picture can’t say a million words when it’s them. You need every word in the dictionary and then some. You will never be able to elaborate on how much you love them without falling short, and feeling like there's still so much you could’ve said. Everything felt so gray without them. It had to be after three in the morning when you finally fell asleep, probably closer to four, but you didn’t think about how long you’d been waiting up for them, just flopped onto your back and sprawled out like a starfish, and let sleep take over so you could have a few hours without consciously missing them. Missing them was the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do.

You’re pulled from your sleep by hushed voices and a door closing, convinced that the hinges are louder at inappropriate times just to spite you. You try to ignore it at first, finally in a comfortable position and getting some rest after a long day of running trials with Cho, but the noises persist despite your displeasure. A sound between a groan and a whine is extracted from your chest when something bumps into the bed, and any thought of going back to sleep leaves your mind. Unlike your girlfriends who can sleep through a natural disaster and fall asleep again if god forbid it wakes them up, once your eyes open you’re awake for the day, and it seems like this is where your day starts.

Although with blurred vision from the very few hours of sleep in your eyes, you’re able make out Wanda hunched over the bed, grasping at her side that is noticeably bloody, while Natasha is digging through the drawers to your left probably attempting to find a loose fitting top for Wanda to change into. All exhaustion leaves your body at the sight of them, and you spring up, rubbing your eyes with a wince as they burn in disagreement with your current state of consciousness. Wanda’s head snaps up, on high alert, but she forces her shoulders to relax when she realizes that it’s just you and not a threat.

“Sorry, we didn’t want to wake you.” She apologizes weakly, through clenched teeth and apparent sleepiness. You wonder when the last time they got a decent amount of rest, when they weren’t looking over their shoulders in paranoia or tossing and turning in pain from an injury that couldn’t be properly treated, but you force yourself to not dwell on it too much. You can’t change the past, and neither can they, all that matters is how they recover, and how they need you to help them heal from everything they were exposed to while in Russia. You’re the clean up, another factor that nobody considers while talking about how romantic and protected you must feel having two superheroes as partners. If anything, you feel more exposed. Like all eyes are on you and a monster is always lurking in the room over.

“No, no that’s okay. I only went to sleep a few hours ago, anyway. Here.” You know that the shirt Natasha is probably looking for is the one currently on your body, and you offer it to Wanda with no hesitation, already making a b-line for her when she just barely has the strength to reach for it herself. You pull the bloodied top over her head gently, thankful that the blood it’s soaked with is dry, and her wound is covered in gauze, meaning they’d probably stopped by the medbay before they made their way in here. “A little banged up, aren’t you?” You comment, although it's rhetorical and you know she won’t tell you how it happened just yet. That usually comes a few days after the mission, when the trauma isn’t so fresh and they’re not still on edge that something else is coming for them. You help her out of her pants as well, thanking Natasha when she hands you a fresh pair of undergarments to pull up Wanda’s legs before you even have to ask.

“We’re still in one piece.” Natasha promises, coming up behind you and wrapping her arms around your waist. She’s tense all over, but she does her best to relax as she holds you, grounding herself in the moment and not the nightmares that have been going around in circles in her mind since getting on the quinjet to come home. “We missed you.” She kisses the skin beneath your ear, lingering for a few seconds before she untangles herself completely and gets ready for bed herself.

“That’s all that matters.” You reassure her, pecking Wanda’s lips gently, knowing she doesn’t have the energy or the strength to match any moment of passion right now. It’s not something that bothers you, maybe it used to, just the slightest bit, but it’s a routine you’re used to now. “I missed you too.”

“I told Steve we’re not taking any missions for a while. Especially not together.” Natasha hands you another one of her tops to slip into, and watches you throw Wanda’s bloodied one into the garbage beside your vanity. She won’t wear it again, not when it’s got so much history now, even if you could get the blood stain out. Again, it’s a routine you’ve found comfort in. The clothes they return home in almost always end up in the garbage, no time for working through PTSD that’s stitched into the fabric when you can just get something new to start fresh in.

“That’s good. I heard from Maria how tough this one was. I don’t know if I slept much the first few days.” You hate to worry them, or make them feel bad, but they hate when you’re not honest with them, and there’s nothing any of you can do about them being sent out on missions, so it’s not like you’re haroboring negative feelings toward them directly, which they understand, but your girlfriends do a great job of beating themselves up about certain things out of their control, this being one of them.

“Or at all. We still have cameras, you know.” Natasha muses, thoroughly amused when you turn a deep shade of crimson and kick Wanda’s discarded pants up toward her. Your other girlfriend, who has been noticeably quiet through the entire exchange, is curled up in bed, looking unbothered by the conversation but intent on finally getting some sleep in her own bed without the possibility of being blown to bits by the enemy.

“Spying on me, are you Romanoff?” You tease, shutting all the drawers Natasha left open and picking up all of her discarded clothes to throw them in the bin as well. She thanks you silently with her eyes that are practically bleeding with pain and adoration, but you don’t say anything. This is the least you can do for them right now.

“Gotta keep an eye on my girl.” Although it’s an easy statement, you know that it’s riddled with nothing but genuine anxiety. Both of your girlfriends are worrywarts when it comes to leaving you alone, for any amount of time but especially undetermined chunks like this mission, and although its heartwarming to be so cared for, it breaks your heart to know that they have valid reasons to be afraid. Another thing nobody even considers when they make comments toward your relationship. Wanda makes a huffing sound beside Natasha and both of your lips twitch in amusement, “On one of my girls, sorry, malysh.”

“You both should get some rest.” You comment, seeing that almost an hour has passed since they stumbled in. You won’t be able to fall asleep again, and even if you could, you’re apprehensive to crawl into bed with Wanda and accidentally hurt her more, so you have all intentions of wishing them a goodnight and going to finally clean up the mugs of tea that are resting on the counter.

“Where are you going?” Natasha wonders, watching you closely, like she’s scared that you’re going to fall apart right in front of her. You hate these moments, when they’re first getting back and they still feel like they’re stranded in a battlefield. It takes days to get back to some kind of normalcy without walking on eggshells, and by that time, they’re usually cleared to start training again and working their strength up for the next mission. One day, you just want to be done, but they’re not ready yet and that's okay.

“To clean up the tea mugs you left before you went. I didn’t have the heart to clean them up, in case…” You train off, but Natasha knows what you’re going to say and her face sinks even deeper.

“In case we didn’t come back.” She finishes your thought, hand rubbing Wanda’s back now that the woman is on her belly, seeking pressure against her wound that’s probably aching beneath the gauze. She shouldn’t be putting any pressure on it, but you’re not about to scold her right now. She needs to be comfortable, any torn stitches can easily be mended tomorrow morning when she’s well rested.

“Yeah.” You breathe out, releasing the tension that gathered in your shoulders at the simple thought of losing them. They’re okay this time, you can let go of all that pent up anxiety and dread for the time being. But it crosses your mind that there's always next time, and they might not get so lucky.

“Will you stay with me? Please?” Wanda asks, voice muffled by the pillow her face is pressed into, her arms beneath her head as she gives Natasha full access to her back, and the aching muscles that have probably been pulled a couple thousand times since leaving. Natasha works harder at releasing some of that tension, looking at you with broken eyes that you can’t say no too. Your worries are squandered when Wanda speaks again, lifting her head just enough to be able to see your face, peering into your eyes with a passion and seriousness that burns you inside. “You won’t hurt me, stop thinking that. I just want to hold my girl.”

“Ahem.” Natasha clears her throat, and Wanda lets the slightest smile pull her tired lips upward.

“One of my girls, sorry, detka.” She apologies before dropping her face back into the pillow, tightening her grip on it when Natasha hits a sore spot in her back. The redhead keeps at it, knowing how easily the Sokovian can pull her muscles when she’s lifting heavy things with just her tendrils.

“Are my thoughts that loud?” You ask meekly, abandoning your intention of straightening up the kitchen and instead coming closer to the end bed, still without pants and just Natasha’s shirt that hangs to your mid thigh.

Natasha stops rubbing Wanda’s back in order to grab at your thighs and pull you closer, rubbing the skin of your legs the same way she had been rubbing Wanda’s back. Though she’ll never admit it, you and Wanda have a sneaking suspicion her love language is physical touch, and that just maybe, physically feeling you both silences her anxieties over you just disappearing from her. Whatever her reason, neither of you protest, and admittedly crave her touch by the end of the night when you crawl into bed.

“Mhmm, I promise I’m okay. Doesn’t really hurt anymore, s’just sore.” She promised, sounding half asleep the longer she lays, adjusting her head so her neck is turned toward both you and Natasha, but her eyes are closed, a content smirk on her lips that only grows bigger when she hears you sigh your agreeance and then feels the bed dip with your weight as you climb into bed.

“Lay your ass down, or I’m gonna fall asleep sitting up.” Natasha scolds, playfully slapping your ass as you crawl over her and into the center of the bed, which is no longer warm from your body. You settle in between them, humming contently when Wanda loops an arm around your waist and then Natasha pulled you into her chest, your legs intertangling messily beneath the sheets.

“I missed this. I can’t sleep when you’re gone, everything feels so empty.” You admit, letting your eyes close even if you’re going to have a few hours of painful silence and stillness before you can even consider actually falling asleep.

Natasha presses her lips into your head and Wanda tightens her arm around your middle, neither saying anything, but not having to as their words and their presence says it all. Surprisingly, you fall asleep in minutes, and not a single one of you wakes up for the next ten hours, desperately needing the rest all together again.

[ilycove]

There's something about you that draws Nightowl in. You've only known each other for a few months, maybe half a year maximum, but he almost feels like he's known you before.

No, he knows it. Maybe in another life, with him being a prince and you being a knight, but he can tell. With every slip of the tongue- accidentally saying that he's known you forever, if forever can apply to six months.

He's staring at your icon on his screen, huffing out in annoyance when he can't bring himself to call you. You asked him to, and yet he feels nervous. Scared even.

A part of him thinks it's first date jitters. A louder part of him says that's not true because you've called one-on-one before, but you're also his best friend. Best friends don't go on dates. Right?

His stomach almost begins to hurt at that realization.

He brushes it off as him being up for so long and eating so little, of course his stomach will be a little upset. That's all it is. He bares a grin as his monitor rings. Once, twice, then he's greeted by your face. "Hellooooo cutie."

"Hi Owl," you hummed and Nightowl found himself almost melting at the sound of your voice, sleepy from the difference in timezones. "Okay, I wanted to call you because I have something so important to tell you. So serious. You're going to shit yourself."

You lean closer to your camera, and as if you were actually in front of him, he leans closer to you as well. His eyes crinkle slightly and you don't get why he's so happy just looking at your sleep tousled figure.

(It's as domestic as the two of you can get, for now.)

"So, I bought you something. Lego flowers. Roses."

"Why roses?" He laughs the slightest bit, trying and failing to keep the fondness out of his eyes. "Because they're so romantic and you're so in love with me?"

"Because they're your favorite." You roll your eyes the slightest bit, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh," Nightowl whispers, his eyes having the slightest sparkle to them, sparking up your mundane and dark night. "You remembered."

"Of course I did. You're my," A beat, shuffling from the other side of the monitor, then; "Best friend."

Right.

Nightowl can't lie, the thought of just being a best friend to you is almost disappointing, but at least the feelings mutual. You're his best friend and he's yours. In more ways than one.

A part of him thinks he's always been yours.

He beams at you and you let out a soft laugh. resting your cheek in the palm of your hand. "You're acting like a dog, tail wagging and shit, all because of some Legos?"

"Trust me, if I were your dog you would be covered in slobber by now." You laugh at him and you don't- you refuse to- pay attention to how he changes your words ever so slightly, a part of you likes it.

You're his. In more ways than one.

You sigh at the thought, knowing that thinking of your best friend like that is so weird. Friends don't act like this, they aren't so possessive and constantly yearning, ruining sleep schedules just to hear his voice at the break of dawn.

Right?

[bubbleddisasters]

Since Y’all liked the last one, heres something somewhat similar:

TWST Characters as funny / random ass moments with my friends/family

———-

Ace : A good friend of mine made an entire Cards against Humanity Deck including us, and we played it at like 4 am.

Also, one of my closest childhood friends of now 11 years, the way we first met was he insulted me, and then thirty minutes later I peeked at his notebook while he was drawing (our beds were next to eachother) recognized Sans from a meme, and then managed to bullshit through an entire conversation about Undertale without him suspecting I didn’t know what the hell I was talking about.

I made a joke about it a little less then a year ago, thinking he knew by now, but no. He looks at me and the conversation goes:

“Are you telling me our entire first interaction was you just fucking improvising through a discussion of a fandom you didn’t know shit about?”

“Wait you didn’t know?”

“NO?!”

“You genuinely believed that I knew what I was talking about then for 10 years?!?”

“Surprisingly, yes.”

Deuce: I was biking with my sister, and she accidentally biked straight into a fucking lake. Also when my dad looked me dead in the eye after receiving one of my graded tests and goes

“How the fuck do you answer Maine four times on different questions and be wrong for all four times.”

Bonus Adeuceyuu combo: Me and two of my childhood friends once linked together to grab something we saw in a river, turns out it was just a broken fishing rod.

Also another on me and the above two friends meeting: The first thing one of them did was insult me, and I genuinely have zero memory of how I met the other.

Basically, we met at a sleepaway camp as kids, and for some reason, our sleepaway camp had some wackass shit, but one of them was this game. I don’t remember the name of it, but you had to go in groups of 3-4 and tie ribbons around each staff tent/cabinside without getting caught (and keep in mind each campsite and Cabins were very spread apart) at midnight, and the first to return to the cafeteria, where the staff were waiting, and did so after tying them all, on won.

Kids age 12-17, in the middle of fuck knows where in the woods Long Island, running around in the dark unsupervised with only any light bringing items they brought themselves.

So me, and we’ll call them C and M, teamed up. It’d take too long to go into full detail, but it was a very Prologue Mines fused with Camp Vargas core adventure.

Bonus First year gang in general : Me and three friends were waiting for something I genuinely don’t remember in an abandoned dorm area and got extremely bored, and one of them could do a perfect Donald Duck impression, and another a really good goofy, and this somehow led to us having a fake reality tv show verbal bitchfight as Donald, Goofy, Mickey and Minnie for a solid hour. We all regretted not recording it.

Cater: My friend from Wales entirely forgot about the existence of timezones and called me in the middle of my history class. Her ringtone at the time was just a clip of her screaming “Bread”.

How my teacher didn’t figure out who’s phone it was is beyond me.

Trey : Made Russian Roulette Spilt Cupcakes for a large group of my friends, and one is allergic to strawberries, while another’s favorite is, so I very specifically placed the strawberry filled one on the complete other side of the table with the intention of slipping it in after she picked her two.

Some fucking how, she ended up with the Strawberry one, which I had tied with a bow (basically the ones with bows mean they contain an allergen, and the color is the allergen. Ex: Strawberry was BRIGHT FUCKING PINK.) I’m to this day not exactly sure how, but my best guess is she traded hers with whoever originally got the Strawberry one before we ate.

Luckily, I told her partner, who had been my baking partner in crime and convinced me to add in the strawberry after I said it might be a bad idea, to bring two epi pens just incase.

Riddle : I am around 5’3, and I had a friend (?) who was 6’2-3 in middle school. We had almost the blatant definition of a Floyd and Riddle Dynamic, but he’d out of the blue be extremely sweet to me (kinda like that comic in the anthology), only on days I was going through shit. When I tell you I genuinely thought I was hallucinating when he did though-

Also, I yelled at him for nailing, yes, NAILING, a flag on the ceiling reading :”el sábado es para los chicos” (Saturday is for the boys) In the fucking Spanish classroom. Since nobody was as tall as him and the janitors didn’t notice it, it was there for like a week.

Che’nya : My friend and I have an ongoing inside joke where whenever we spot the other through a window in the hallway, we text the other “behind you” or “to your__”

Leona : I brought a pillow with a silk pillow case (gift from my mom) to a sleepover once, and my friend went “You trust leaving me in the room with this?” and I genuinely responded “Its a pillow, why wouldn’t I trust you.” entirely forgetting that Silk can be pretty expensive.

I felt so bad bro.

Ruggie : My friend once dared me to get a one plate of everything during a party. I misinterpreted this and brought a mostly to full plate of each thing, including water bottles.

Turns out they meant balance one of everything on a single plate.

I did not, infact, return the seven brownies, four cupcakes, two cookies, twelevish tangerines, popcorn and god knows how many grapes, but everything else was returned or snatched by friends.

Jack: My friend was throughly convinced she knew where she was going when we got lost outside at one of the biggest malls in fucking America, and we ended up walking a good 4/6th of the perimeter before finding the target (the store, we were still fucking lost) , which we called her mom to pick us up at.

Bonus: My friend, a few dormmates and I were at Starbucks and this random woman comes up to my friend and goes “Hey, they got my order wrong, want my drink?” and I was literally trying to give him this face of “BAD IDEA”. Yea so he ignored the obvious and drank the whole fucking thing and was bouncing off the walls for the rest of the day. (This one could also work for Jamil I suppose.)

Floyd : I was once walking with a friend of mine and jokingly said Trees are giant salads.

This motherfucker breaks off a branch of the nearest tree, takes a fatass bite, drops it, and goes “I want a refund.”

Jade : Randomly got interrogated my mushroom hunters—-

(I kind you the fuck not, MUSHROOM. HUNTERS. Basically, they go out to hunt/find/ forage for rare mushrooms. Atleast thats what they told us?! I wasn’t paying much attention, I was busy petting their dog tbh)

—While camping, my friend and I had zero clue what they were talking about, so she just pointed in a random direction and they thanked us and left.

The same friend also introduced me to mica, but always called them Mermaid Scales, and we more than once walked around in the water looking for them, I was the only one that would literally stop mid-trail to pick some up though. I have a massive collection.

Also she never let me live down the fact I once trapped myself in my tent with fucking dental floss overnight just to see if I could, then couldn’t undo it in the morning, and our adult / guide / trying to keep us alive person had to cut me out with a knife.

Azul : This one very specific time as a kid I was talking to two identical twins, who were standing on each side of me, wearing the same outfits but color reversed, and nearly had an internal breakdown trying to remember which was which, so I just did verbal gymnastics around using their names.

We later literally spent two hours fighting for ours lives together and I shit you not I STILL COULDNT REMEMBER THEIR FUCKING NAMES.

Kalim : Went shopping with my badass grandma and somehow left with a Second Hand Valentino (the brand) dress for $50 and a free bracelet one of the employees gave me because ….I actually don’t know.

Also, I got trapped on a really high up indoor water slide with my sister because the water entirely stopped (we learned later the water machine tied to that ride blew up) , and where we were was like a weird slope like between two drops. We couldn’t get back up, and going down was too risky without water bcs we could go splat.

There was like a window ish on the ride, so like a smart 8 year old, I start calling for help at the top of my lungs. My sister (10) also did this. There was this guy who I guess heard us that we nicknamed Chad because he looked like the most stereotypical 2000’s beach movie love interest lifeguard and was dramatically looking around for where the voices were coming from but NEVER LOOKED UP??

Anyway, My sister got us out in the end because she found a hatch and managed to open it, and I shit you not there was a spiral staircase with a gigantic fucking sign reading “DO NOT CLIMB STAIRCASE.”

So obviously, my sister chucks me across the gap onto the staircase and then jumps over herself, and we end up spending another 40 minutes after that fiasco trying to find our parents while i’m pretty sure Chad was trying to find us.

After the 40 minutes we just assumed we were now orphans and went back to where we left our keycard and low and behold our parents had just come back from wherever they had fucked off to.

Also Chad found us and felt super bad, and bought us a smore cake?!? Someone throw him back in time to be his destined role as an extra in Teen Beach Movie. The cake was great though, but that was one hell of an 8th birthday lmao.

Jamil : My friend from India (jokily) Divorced me after my dumbass asked her if Chai was an ingredient used in Chai Tea.

Spoiler Alert : Chai IS THE TEA. Apparently, asking for Chai Tea is the equivalent of saying “Can I have some Tea Tea please.”

Yea safe to say I felt real stupid in that moment.

Epel : My sister once locked me in the bathroom so she could test her new makeup on me. She left for one second and I kid you not I snuck out of the window.

Random bonus : Me and my cousins for some reason ended up roughhousing outside after one of our older cousins weddings, and I judo flipped a whole ass 17 year old man at age 12 and I felt so powerful in that moment.

Also If you saw about the ranch in the previous post, me that gang had an anonymous cookie provider who would leave us two tins of fresh cookies every day around 12ish pm, usually behind the kitchen or outside the equipment shack.

Yes, we tried to catch them once, No, we didn’t succeed. Also nobody wanted to risk loosing cookie privileges, so we didn’t try again.

Rook: Once scared the living shit out of my online friend by texting him “I am now several miles closer to your location.” . He lives in South America, and I happened to be in Florida with a friend, so I thought i’d be funny.

Vil : I was going to a cosplay convention with a friend, and instead of bringing like a normal amount of makeup, my indecisive ass brought basically a whole suitcase worth of it.

Also won a costume competition at my boarding school for Halloween, and wasn’t even aware there was a competition until the year after, when a good half or more of my dormmates asked me to do their makeup because they’d heard I was really good at it.

Idia: Ok, so, long story, but my friend invited me and two mutual friends to see Sweeney Todd on Broadway w/ the og cast. However, I was the only one who didn’t know we were going anywhere, because he thought his mom told my dad we were going to see Sweeney Todd, while my dad thought my friend told me, but also he was suspiciously alluding to it, maybe unintentionally

So I show up in a blue hoodie with a bad pun on it, mildly ripped sweatpants, mismatched socks and bright rainbow crocs. Not very “going to watch a musical about cannibalism and Serial Killers” attire. But it gets worse.

So around the 3/4ths into the first act is when I usually get snacks at musicals or plays, since they’re usually just finished setting up and theres no line, so I’m in and out and don’t miss much.

Well, I did that as usual, and its important to know we had front row balcony seats, because…

I slipped on my friends playbill on the way to my seat, and my fucking left croc went flying down into the seats below us, and hit an older woman in the head right at Sweeney did the first oofing, and the stage lights go red for a moment in this scene.

I felt so bad, and was literally too embarrassed to go get the shoe myself, so one of my friends got it for me. Apparently the lady thought it was somewhat funny (thank fucking goodness)

Ortho : My sister and I were biking once, and found out some reason the coats we had (school merch from field day I think). had the biggest fucking hidden pockets known to man.

So the next time we went out, she for some reason decided to put our dads entire laptop in there.

Also bonus: My friend once invited me over to their house to help with their costume, and when I came over, the costume was literally a gigantic trash can. No, not the actual object, They were literally making a giant trashcan costume.

I helped but still remained mildly confused in the process.

Malleus : I had a good friend who lived next to a graveyard, and sometimes we would just go on nice walks in the graveyard.

Lilia: Another Wilderness one: We were making Pasta, and one of the guys in our group was playing with a large thing of moss, tripped, and the moss got into the fucking pasta.

One guide said “Nature Consequence, we can still eat it” while the other screamed they were going to get fired.

Also, me and a friend were singing bo-burnham on a hike, and for some reason we had this stupid ass idea of making a fake fishing rod called…..

“The Child Catcher.”

(The irony ony of us both being 14 at the time so technically we were children)

We found a good fishing rod like stick and a vine, tied a vine on, and I kid you not we carried that thing for MILES. We also made a fork with a flatly shaped stick and a rock named Reddie.

Yea living in the woods does somethin to ya I gotta say.

Bonus: One of my childhood friends had a very giant dog, and one time we had a sleepover, she was laying infront of the other side of the door when we woke , and because of the way the door was, we couldn’t get through.

So my genius solution was to climb out the window (this was on the second floor) , Cha-Cha real smoothed to the nearest other window, go through there, and lure the dog away with a treat.

It worked.

Silver: Went to this make your own dipped popsicle thing with a good friend of mine, and watched in pure horror as she got a mango popsicle dipped in dark chocolate and rolled in fruity pebbles.

Another one: I was at a Sleepover and there was this tent like thing that was meant for tiny people (aka me, not really it was for toddlers but I was small enough to fit at the time), and at some point in the middle of the night, someone tripped on the tent and it entirely collapsed on me, and not only did I sleep through it, I ended up being the last person to wake up because they all saw the tent collapsed and assumed I was already awake.

Also I was camping once and I rolled away from my tarp and somehow down a road, and my friend said when she found me there was just several butterflies and caterpillars on me. I originally didn’t know but I found a caterpillar on my head that morning and apparently it was poisonous (I was fine and I named him Bob)

Sebek: I was in an escape room with some friends, and I discovered that a key we had gotten in the very beginning worked on another lock, so I did that, and later one of my loud friends finds a key and is SPIRALING because she can’t find what it unlocks for like 30 minutes, and after several minutes I realized, unintentionally slammed my hand on a desk and screamed “OH SHIT.” with zero context.

That experience was actually my first time in a escape room with friends, and not my family or a bunch of drunk strangers in suits + my concerned mother.

Second years : My friends in the priorly mentioned group consisted of who I’ll call N, who was doing 70% of the work, we had R, who was angrily searching for the lock to the key, we had T, the birthday boi, who was randomly making jokes about the 1930s, S, who genuinely forgot he had a key item in his pocket, and A, who dramatically serenaded the paintings after misinterpreting a clue and me, who kept accidentally unlocking shit ahead of time.

Third Years: Prior to the other mentioned event, we had gone to a small improv event that ended up being just us, and the poor guy running it kept giving us scenarios and random conditions which we would absolutely make the craziest shit from.

If I remember correctly, one of the skits was we were supposed to be a school board, and the condition was when someone said an idea, you had to say yes.

The result? a organ harvesting business thats front was a school, and everytime someone got detention, one organ of theirs was sold, and the funds went into funding the biogenetically engineered creation of Hatsune Miku and Cat Boys.

For some reason this skit also led somehow into atomic glitter and cocaine missiles, selling souls on Ebay with express shipping, using Sephora Products and Instagram to spread our propaganda, making meme complications of our crimes, and nuking the Bermuda Triangle.

Ask no questions because I have no answers.

——————————-

Yea thats it for now! Enjoy!

:3

[addicsvt]

Wait

Synopsis: In which dino tells you to wait but you can't anymore so you spill everything out in a very messy drunk confession. tags: fluff and a bit of angst? pairings: lee chan x reader A/N: im writing this a day before but by the time i release this fic it would prob be around 2pm my timezone? well anyways dont forget abt lee chan's solo!!!! make sure to go stream at 6pm kst!!

In Chan's defense, he never knew how bad of a drinker you were. He should've known better than to accept your eager invitation to drink at a bar for your 21th birthday. But we all could regret decisions later. So now here he was, in your apartment, somehow, with your head rested on his lap.

It should've been a miracle on how he even made it here with your stumbling figure threatening to fall at any time, while he grabbed your hand to sling it across his body. A horrible idea indeed.

"you good?' He asked as you both made it to his apartment as he helped you take off your shoes.

"mmh.. want more." You replied and poor chan was trying to figure out what you wanted, since he was usually the one always getting taken care of when he was drunk.

"want more what? y/n?" He asked before placing you on the couch.

"want you.." You muttered barely being able to open your eyes.

"w-what?" He asked taking a seat beside you as he moved your head from the couch to his lap.

"want you chan.." you said as tears started falling out of your eyes. Great, an emotional drunk.

"hey hey, dont cry, i'm here." He said using his thumb to gently swipe off the tears on your face trying his best to comfort you.

"dont wanna wait, wanna have you" you muttered out sobbing as dino tried to hush you like you were precious.

"channie, remember the time you asked me what i wanted for my birthday? I think i know now." You said trying to choke back tears.

"and what is it dear?" He replied unconsciously blurting out the petname.

"you chan. all I want is you. I can't wait, I need you." You said sobbing as he comforted you, stroking your hair as he placed a soft kiss to your cheek.

"you already have me baby." He whispered into your ears leaning down to press a kiss to your lips.

"want you forever and ever.." You muttered before finally drifting off.

"ill always be yours." He said smiling as he saw your sleeping form rested on his lap. He quickly set you down gently as you grumbled feeling the hard couch instead of chan's lap.

"its okay baby, im getting you a blanket." He said gently as he went to his room grabbing his blanket and placing it on top of you as he snuck back onto his original position.

"sweet dreams.." he said before falling asleep himself. Yep, he was definitely going to save the awkward conversation for tomorrow.

[py-dreamer]

...soo...

ok um technically this doesn't count at least in my timezone cause over here its already past midnight... um...

regardless...

weee!!!

I figured I'd make each of these mofos like individual post rather than make one really long reblog making it kinda hard to sort through and just list them using one tag instead.

So I suppose technically y'all get a double whammy today! Just gotta wait quite a while for it, heh...

So with this one I definitely did focus more on cake than the outfit. But hopefully you guys can still see the skrimblo

Anyways those are kiwi fruits, if you couldn't tell, don't @ me pls this is like one of the few times I've drawn fruits. Oh, and that black thingy? It's a tapioca pearl from bubble tea!! I think it's possible...

At first I wanted a more vibrant teal/green for the frosting and a lighter cake color similar to Mk's slice but that bright teal clashed hard with the kiwi fruit so I switched it out for the light light teal instead. Idk what flavor it'd be maybe like a more minty whipped cream.

Cakewise, it is darker than Mk's so I imagine it to be less airy, possibly more dense. Maybe like a ginger? Give any suggestions, but probably something funky for our funky girl!

Those 3 blobs with the weird cookie face on it is meant to be grape tanghulu with a dragon cookie on it! The rest of the cookies are as expected, good ole sugar cookies, though with the gold dragon I was having some trouble since Idk where to put the balloon since it left an empty space so I had to fill it with another cookie that would barely show, so yeah. That was fun

As for the dollops of frosting, I thought Mei is spunky fulunky, and a rich girl to boot! So let her have some pizzazz! I thought it appropriate

I think the balloon and dragon came out nicely, had to look for a reference for the dragon though. They're meant to be a paper decoration on a toothpick originally like Mk's cloud but at this point I leave it up for interpretation

Not much to say about the outfit, pretty similar to Mk's.

I know the KNY girls in their arts had skirts but my friend and I both thought Mei would look better in pants. (Not that she can't wear dresses, she slays in anything just that we thought she'd wear pants in this situation)

And I did try adding a little green skirt but it looked wonky and I didn't want that, bleugh

So I settled for compromise, making her like overcoat/vest thingy longer/ wider and gave her leggings so she also doesn't blend into the cake lol

And um life updates! I had like 4 tests today, I'm not kidding.

Good news is, tests for now are over!

Bad news is, still have an assignment to do...

Again, I'll do my best to keep this up. They are very fun and get my creative juices flowing I feel but no promises!

[cryptidtumbleweed]

Welcome to my blog!

Figured I'd make an introduction/info post, so here we are :D

I'm a Finnish student doing their best to get into college and share their art and interests :3

Love mythologies and folklore and cryptozoology and all sorts of creepy urban legend crawlies, personal favorites include Mothman and the Loch Ness Monster

Permanent Slenderverse enjoyer, Marble Hornets has a special place in my heart <3

Deer and bird enthusiast, wolf-kid at heart.

Monster energy drink addict

Amateur cosplayer, mostly just Owl House. Also a furry

Owl House is my comfort show, other things I enjoy include:

Percy Jackson/Riordanverse/mythology in general

Lord of the Rings/Hobbit

The Ghost and Molly McGee

Warrior Cats

Night at the Museum

Ghibli movies

Dungeons and Daddies

Radical Face (artist)

Madilyn Mei (artist)

Ask box and DMs are always open, I'm very bad at talking to people at first but I would love to be friends as long as you have a bit of patience for me :3

Check out @tumblesmarbleowls for my Toh au sideblog

Autistic/social anxiety/chronic skin issues and migraines

Aroace and nonbinary/agender

DNI IF...

You are LGBTQIA+ phobic, racist, ableist, sexist or any sort of nasty bigot. This blog is a safe place for people

Your account is NSFW - seriously. This is an insta block.

You're going to be nasty/bullying for no reason. This includes being nasty to my friends on their blogs.

---***---

Commissions

Nothing is required, but if you want to support a queer autistic unemployed kid living alone and with meds/rent/utilities to pay, here's my art commission info!

Status: OPEN

I also draw ponies! Pricing is the same as it is for humans :3

INFO

🍃Payment will be via Paypal and is marked in USD

🍃If interested, please DM me here or email me at cryptidtumbleweed@gmail.com - if you email me, your email title needs to reference the topic of commissions ("commission inquiry" or "art commissions"). If not, I will ignore the email. I do recommend DMing here as I will most likely respond faster

🍃Please have a clear idea of what you want before messaging me - sending references for poses/clothing/sceneries is highly recommended!

🍃Half the payment upfront, the other half after you've approved the sketch. After this I won't do any drastic changes to the commission

🍃Prices aren't negotioable unless I say otherwise

🍃I have the right to refuse any commission I feel uncomfortable with

🍃Completing a commission depends on the complexity. I will try to finish any commission within a week but I can't promise anything. I draw art on my free time and it's secondary to real life events that might interfere with finishing any piece.

🍃I might not reply instantly due to timezones/irl stuff, but I will do my best to get in contact with you within 24 hours of you messaging me <3

For now, I'm not setting any slots but depending on interest, I might set a limit in the future. I'm also planning on setting up a Kofi for commissions in near future and will update this when I do.

[pommunist]

it is really sad to me that the money seems to be alex's main priority and that communication seems to be his second. because the thing is, the big problem is the communication!

lea tried to talk to her supervisors and fix things, but they completely dismissed her. pomme's admin was fired (or at least shut out of the project) because the higher ups were assholes who thought she was giving out info to lea. lea said that they were made to feel like their mental health doesn't matter and that the ''content'' matters more. they weren't even allowed to talk to each other privately because the higher ups (probably a way to isolate them so they wouldn't speak out)

the money was never the problem, if they had been treated with more respect then lea wouldn't have leaked it out. if there was communication then the money would have been resolved a LONG time ago (they would have been able to complain to alex and the shitty higher ups would be fired and changed)

i do genuinely believe that alex cares (they literally committed embezzlement against him) but his priorities are WAY off the mark. i understand that he wants to fix the money first, but he should fix it WHILE discussing it with the workers.

like, even a ''i'm sorry for the lack of communication but i am very busy now'' would be good. them firing the twt admins was honestly, understandable. alex is probably paranoid about the union and doesn't want any possibility of unpaid labor. but i wished he communicated more with them instead of leaving them on hold.

the fact that pomme's admin STILL hasn't been contacted to pretty upsetting too :( he should've done that first thing because from her preservative she doesn't even know if they'll bring her back or just replace her. even if the french streamers said they wouldn't come back if pomme's admin is replaced, it would be much more reassuring to her if alex straight up says so.

i hope by the time they actually open the merch shop we have some kind of confirmation that pomme's admin has been contacted and that communication is happening. the merch itself is a great idea to fund the project, but they should first reassure admins and stuff.

i do love qsmp and want things to be fixed and i do genuinely believe that it WILL be fixed, i just think alex's way of going about things right now isn't the best. he wants to fix the hardest issue first and then go to the easier ones but in my opinion, he should go from easy problems to harder problems. he NEEDS to fix the problems and should start with the easier ones first.

find pomme's admin and put her back on the team -> start communication and update your staff -> talk to your staff and get testimonies -> fire the higher ups -> figure out money stuff

his way of thinking seems to be like this:

put admins on hold -> fix money -> bring back admins -> fire higher ups

i believe he has the best intentions, but he isn't going about it in the right way.

(sorry for the rant, i'm just kinda frustrated :( this isn't an unsolvable issue and i want to this to be solved in the best way possible and THIS IS NOT IT! you're very cool and sick btw)

this is so well put out anon idek what to add 😳 based

maybe just to say that while firing the twitter admins could be a good thing if that can avoid the legal issue of unpaid work, the way it was done (after a complete radio silent,by discord message and deleting the server, in the middle of the night for some timezones) is NOT IT

[viburnt]

Hiii!!! Can I request midoriya with the prompt ‘someone has a gift for you’. Genre can be anything except angst!!!!

Sorry anon, this a little late and a little short, but I still tried my best! My exams are kicking my butt :( Hope you enjoy.

—Viburnt

𝑰𝒛𝒖𝒌𝒖 𝑴𝒊𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒚𝒂 || 𝑺𝒖𝒓𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒆

Today marked Izuku's birthday, and upholding the age-old tradition from his childhood, his mom, Inko, took him to his favorite bakery to choose a cake. It was a cherished ritual in their household – Inko allowed him to pick his desired dessert, adorned the house with his favorite All Might decorations, and then you would join in to celebrate after an enthusiastic session with his action figures. Despite being a teenager now, Izuku still found joy in these moments. However, this year was different; you weren't there to share the celebration with him as you had in the old days.

He missed you dearly.

—She hasn't called yet. Do you think she's busy?— Izuku mumbled as he tapped on the glass case protecting the delectable pastries. —I know it's a different timezone, but...—

Inko offered him a sympathetic smile and comforted him with gentle circles on his back. It had been a year since you left to study abroad, leaving your friends behind to chase after your dreams. Izuku was feeling lonely without you, missing the sound of your voice and how you'd smile whenever he cracked a silly joke.

Sure, he was able to face time you when you had time, but the occasions were rare and it made his heart twinge.

—I'm sure she'll remember, she's a good girl!— Inko reassured him, resting her head on his shoulder. —Why don't you take a closer look at the cakes, hmm?—

"I haven't had birthday cake without her, would it taste the same?" Izuku wondered. Squinting for a moment, he focused on the frosting decorations on each dessert. The first one was fairly simple, the second had delicate hearts, but the third one...

-Is that my face?— He asked, pointing at the childish drawing of himself resting on top of the white frosting. It looked like a 5 year old had attempted to draw on it. "It almost reminds me of..."

—Yes, it's specially for you!— Izuku heard his mom said, a mischievous smirk appearing on her chubby face as she pulled him a little to her level.

—Someone has a gift for you! —Inko cheered, playfully covering her son's eyes with a blindfold.

—Woah, mom, what? You have another gift for me?— He asked, amazed, a hearty laugh escaping his chest. —You didn't need to!

—But I know how much you missed this particular thing, so...— Inko said, guiding him to a nearby chair, making sure Izuku wouldn't triple with the walking costumers and close tables.

—Mom, you didn't have to, really!— Izuku assured, hearing his mom giggle as a set of footsteps became more audible.

—Izuku, your mom made a lot of effort to bring me here! Say thanks.

The familiar sound of your voice left Midoriya speechless, his hands shakily removing the blindfold. His green eyes watched mesmerized as you came out from behind the bakery counter, holding his cake on your hands.

—Y-you're here!

—Happy birthday, Izuku...— You congratulated, hugging the boy. —Wouldn't miss this for anything!

[arzuera]

Who Wrote That?!

Hello! This is a Host and Player's guide on how to play 'Who Wrote That?!', a writing game for all ages! What is 'Who Wrote That?'? It's a game played with a minimum of 4 players or more. The players submit excerpts based on a prompt to the host and then have to guess who wrote what when the host releases them later. Whoever has the most points at the end is the winner!

Rules for Players

If there is one, please read the 'Do Not' list that any host gives you. This ensures that everyone has fun and no one is secluded because someone wrote something that triggered them.

2. Write an excerpt based on the prompt in the given timeframe. If you need an extension, ask the Host! More than likely, they will work with you. After all, the more the merrier.

3. Try to keep to the word limit, if there is one. Writing too much could out you just as much as writing too little. If you feel that your excerpt may be too long or too short, ask the Host if you may need to edit.

4. HAVE FUN! You can keep any writing that is too long and post it later or even continue the story if you wish! Odds are the plotbunnies will have made themselves home anyway :D

How to Host

Hosting is just as fun as playing! You get to read all the lovely juicy fun words and then see everyone gush and lament on the excerpts and their choices between submissions! The Host is the person/people who organize the rounds and keep track of the points. They also are the ones who post the excerpts for the players to read during guessing time and post the reveals round by round after voting is closed. It can seem daunting but it's a lot of fun!

There are two ways to play: A long game and a short game.

On average, a long game is considered a word limit of 1k or higher with a short game being about one paragraph or 300-400 words. Your game length will vary on the number of players and how long the excerpts are.

First, as the Host, pick or come up with a prompt. Try and find one or make it, open-ended so that the authors can really make the prompt their own! For example:

Danny gets trapped in a spellbook. He binds himself to whoever touches him next. The only way to release the bind is by either freeing Danny or doing so many things the book says (which the book is blank and Danny can control what is in it). Shenanigans

Also here is the Tumblr post source: Prompt Source

This is the first game we played! Its short but vague enough for the players to go off on their own interpretations.

Second, figure out the timeframe that works as best for you as it does with everyone else. Unfortunately due to timezones, you may not be able to have everyone online for the live voting or reveals. But that can be remedied a bit by giving time for people to be there.

A long game normally goes Tuesday-Friday for prompt submissions, Saturday is dedicated to voting, and Sunday will be the reveal!

Short games can do the same as above but maybe at hour intervals instead. 2-3 hours for submissions, an hour for voting, then reveal! Third, once you have your prompt and time frame, now it's time to let players know! Make a post or @ your friends so that they can play!

Fourth, collect all of the submissions in a Google doc and then organize the submissions by round order. That way you aren't digging for a prompt through Discord messages or google docs. It's all ready to go!

Fifth, when you have all of your submissions, it's time to make a Google form! Make an assessment and create as many questions as there are rounds with the players' names as the answers. Make sure to turn off 'shuffle option order'

Because this will move all the answers around and that is unnecessarily confusing.

Next go to settings and make it a quiz! But turn the other options off

Turning off missed questions, correct answers and point values makes it so the players don't see what they got after they submit their answers. They won't know until you reveal it all at the end! Now all you have to do is wait for voting time!

Sixth, Now it's time for the players to vote and they get to gush over what they are reading while chaos begins. Post the excerpts at hour intervals to give the players a chance to discuss among themselves. This is where they will try to throw the other off the scent of their work or try sus out the author. It's a lot of fun to watch :3

Lastly, reveals. Once voting is done, you can go into the Google form and see how everyone did! Calculate the points and figure out if you have a winner! When you have the points calculated, release the results of Who Wrote That one round at a time. Reveal who the author of that excerpt was along with who all got it right! Continue this by giving some time between results so the players can tease each other until all of the reveals are done and you announce the winner!

Congrats! You just hosted a game of Who Wrote That?! ! :3

Disclaimer: Google docs is mainly mentioned because most of the games have been running via co-hosting. With google docs, we can share the excerpts that both of us have gotten easily to one another. However, if you are hosting on your own, then any doc program should work just fine.