#so of course on my 6 day trip i brought NOTHING

[garlique]

my tummy hurts so bad i hate traveling

[callmecrazy4u2]

Aventurine x Reader x Sunday

My Jewel, My Dove

Aventurine x Reader: My Treasured Jewel

The Mask of Dove cracked to reveal reflective hypnotic avign eyes. Identical to Aventurine's Own. Aventurine blinked or did he miss it. He had to find out if he was the last one or if she survived...

The voice was so similar and the mannerisms while singing reminiscent of her teasing ways in childhood. Aventurine followed her off the side of the stage to the cloakroom where her suite was . Using his luck to slip past guards.

After all nothing ventured nothing gained.

---6 System hours Earlier the Morning of the Performance--

Sunday stood hand clasped behind his back as the morning light shone making him look angelic and lit up in light compared to Dove sitting in the shadows tapping the clothed table in the opulent room.

"There is an intruder from the ipc. An Avign like you" Sunday cast his gaze to drink in every microexpression. A pin could drop in the silence as she struggled to keep her expression neutral. No weakness could be shown to the oak family head.

"So, I'm loyal to the family. " Dove stated even as his pulse beat fast another like her survived? It couldn't be, could it? But she remained expressionless in front of the assessing Sunday

"Indeed, I trust you like family after all. But with Eobin gone I've been bit uneasy you understand" smoothly put Sunday a rare moment of weakness as he furrowed his brows his wings drooping slightly in distress.

"Have we found any clues yet?" Dove pursed her lips mirroring his distress tracing the rim of her drink contemplative.

Unfortunately not enough yet but the Ipc is the prime suspect " sighed Sunday as he approached Darling and took her hand in his own.

"I understand I'll do anything to get robin back" Dove promised affection for the fellow singer who was like sister catching in her heart.

"Meet him, and see what you can get out of him about the IPC plans. I'll prepare the perfect stage you merely need to sing and meet with him afterwards" eyes caught in his own as he slid a

"Of course i'll do as you say I'm your dove after all" she smiled sweetly a promise she meant at the time. For her family she would do anything.

To cover up any mistake or hesitation that must have shown through her eyes. Dove leaned forward and planted a kiss on Sunday's cheek like old times when they were children.

Now her hands shook underneath her salon vanity mirror, as she awaited the IPC rep, Aventurine. She had been shocked seeing him recognizing he childhood crush and friend. Her resolve wavered seeing in the crowd when seeing his photo that day with sunday even as she spoke the words.

but what if she was caught between two families?

---

"Excuse me miss can I come in"

The past had come back to haunt her and she did not know if she could turn her back when it was battering at her stage door. Time to face reality the play on the stage as dove was over wasn't it?

"Come In"

The play would start again like old times but could she keep up her mask in the face of reality?

-

Sunday Past Side : My Precious Dove

Sunday who constructs a dream world to keep the memory of his dead beloved alive . The "harmony dove" who he failed to protect a fellow war orphan a rare avign sent to the prison planet penacony.

"Sunday, Robin come greet our newest family member " Another war orphan brought in by Gopher Wood to protect their small group of refugees on penacony with nowhere els to go on the prison planet.

"Its nice to meet you" robin greeted with curtsy

"Robin is a pretty name " complimented the hesitant child unsure how to reciprocate tripping over trying to do a bow and curtsy at once in imitation of them.

"Thank you so whats yours?"Robin inquired

The clumsy sweetness and wariness of the innocent child reminded Sunday of the birds he so loved. Eyes warry and hunted but still unable to sit still shifting arkwardlyfrom foot to foot under the assessing gazezs of Sunday and gopher wood.

"You remind me of the charmony doves" hummed Sunday fresh from he loss of their pet and seeing in her the innocent fragile bird that had fallen. A comment that made Robin smile fall and eyes turn wary at her brothers strange comparison given they had buried the bird not long ago.

"I wish, the charmony doves are so pretty but I'm like plain ol pigeon with these eyes" not noticing the stranger took it as compliment tapping near her eyes derisively with joyless smile.

"Oh your eyes are so pretty! They are like jewels" fascinated Robin complimented clasping her hands.

"Now I want you children to get along your all family now" put in Gppher wood sternly "I want you to be part of the family"

"Yes be our sister" Robin cheered taking her hand in her own "Want to play theater with us?

"Play pretend I can do that" shly nodded she joined robin on makeshift made up stage.

"Do it enough and happiness will become real. "

I promise I'll bring happiness harmony and peace back again. Sunday promised silently to himself watching the two girls play and playing his role dutifully as the admiring audience

[fictionalsownme]

"Touch" | season 6 ! keigo takami x reader | WIP BLURB

Hiya! So I've noticed recently that I almost never post my writing on here, even though I write all the time. I'm just so easily distracted I almost never finish things, but I thought I'd start sharing what I do have so some of these little bits can see the light of day hehe :) here's a bit a wrote about how hawks' and the reader's dynamic might shift after his burn and after his personality changes a bit!

disclaimer: this blurb is unedited and unfinished. just wanted to share some WIPs! Enjoy!

Recently, Hawks— Keigo— had been touching you even more than normal.

You would say he’s finding excuses for physical contact, but there’s not even reasons most of the time.

It’d been about a week since you started riding around with him, Jeanist, and Endeavor. All Might, Deku, and some other pros were part of the efforts, too.

Being a civilian, you knew you brought them more risk than aide, but you weren’t totally useless. And now Hawks— now Keigo— insisted on you being by his side.

It’s not as if you and him had never touched before. In the year you’d known him and worked for him, the two of you had actually gotten really close. And when his name was revealed to the public, he asked you to start calling him that all the time.

No one else, just you. It was taking some getting used to.

It wasn’t long after that the touching started. The near constant physical contact.

A steady hand at your back seemed to be his favorite. But there were other motions too. Touching your arm, playing absently with the edge of your jacket, nudging his shoe with yours. Even just keeping you within arms length seemed to be a must.

Not that you didn’t like it. You definitely did. Each touch was so warm and protective, it made you lightheaded. And in these times… any comfort was a blessing.

You figured that’s why he’d been doing it. Just basic coping, nothing more. You understood. Before all this mess, before he’d been burned, you had always been the first to offer hugs and reassurances. You’d even held hands once or twice. Platonically, of course. But nothing like this.

It wasn’t just the physical nature of your relationship changing, either.

He had this air about him when you were near. It simmered when he talked to you, when he touched you or looked in your eyes. An almost… protectiveness. Possessive.

It was the same with his name. He hadn’t asked a single other person to call him Keigo, and no one did. Except you. And he was adamant about it.

You were flattered, and happy to do this for him. But you were a bit embarrassed to admit that you’d been struggling to adjust. You kept using his hero name by mistake. At first he’d just corrected you with an unreadable expression, then started to tease you about it, but now he’d resorted to waiting until you got it right to respond at all. Even though he’d hadn’t been as outwardly playful since he’d been burned, you knew he wasn’t actually mad at you or anything. Another change you understood. He was being more authentic to who he was. More reserved and quiet and thinking. Again, an adjustment to be sure, but you were happy.

You didn’t mind this slightly new dynamic. In fact, you were hopelessly in danger of falling even more in love with him than you already were, the poor man.

You swore that if he slid his palm over the expanse of your back one more time, tenderly whispered your name like that, gave you instructions with a warm, grounding touch… you were going to lose it and confess on the spot.

You stumbled when one of the incapacitated villains stuck their foot out to trip you as you walked past. You glared at him. Tied, gagged, beat up, and still trying to cause shit.

You kicked at his foot.

“Come stand over here,” called Hawks’— fuck, Keigo’s— still slightly raspy voice.

You gave the villain one more stink eye, and came to stand next to where Keigo was leaning against the car. His hand went to your back immediately. Warm even through his glove and your sweater.

It truly concerned you how normal that was starting to feel. How disarming.

He gently rubbed your back with his thumb, his palm flat against your spine, waiting silently for Jeanist and Endeavor to come back with instructions for the goons.

The feeling of his hand… strong and grounding like an anchor… your eyes slid closed after only a few moments.

Like you said, lately comfort was desperately needed and hard to come by. You kept your back straight, clutching your bag to your chest, savoring the feeling of your best friend. There to keep you safe.

When your eyes opened, they slid over to him on instinct. He was watching you.

You cheeks flared but you kept his gaze. He wasn’t… anything really. Not happy or upset or surprised. He just looked back at you, his hand still against you.

God you swore… sometimes you were so ridiculously close to just grabbing him by the stupid jacket and kissing him senseless. Just to feel it, to feel him, to see what he would do. To see if it would really ruin your life like you told yourself it would.

This somewhat new side of him was intriguing to say the least. Not afraid of silence, of a blank expression, of showing he was thinking. Before his burn and the collapse of society, his training kept his expression in a claustrophobic range of cock-sure grin to open laughter. The only exception was when he was squaring off against villains, or simply too tired to mask himself properly. The later was still rare, however. He only ever willingly stopped presenting when the two of you were alone, and you were proud to say you’d gotten very good at seeing beneath it all.

But things were different now. He didn’t bother to hide. As his friend, it was a breath of fresh air, and it was nice to see no one else seemed to mind either. He still laughed and smiled and made stupid quips. But he didn’t bother to be someone he wasn't.

But he’d been changing too, inside. Everyone had. Less hero and more man. Maybe that’s why he’d asked you to start using his name.

[pepsicola-pussy]

Chapter 1 - Eternal Sunshine (Vinnie Hacker x Reader)

a/n: first series ever….bare with me pls. enjoy.

March 3rd, 2024

I pulled my heavy suitcase off the conveyor belt with a huff. Usually Matt would do this for me. I smile to myself thinking about his grumbles of complaints as he pulls it off with ease, placing it next to me, and rolling his eyes at the kiss I'd place on his cheek in return. But, he isn't here, none of them are. My first solo trip back home since we all moved to LA and I hated it. I missed my family, the triplets, our shared apartment, and the constant orchestra of laughs and bickering. 

After 6 months in Boston, taking care of my dying father, I was finally returning to LA. I dropped everything the moment I learned he was sick, leaving behind my career that I didn't know whether or not it would be waiting for me when I returned, and a boyfriend who I'm sure had moved on since my ghosting. I was grieving, I lost the only biological family I had left, and couldn’t keep a healthy relationship to save my life. The only consistent thing within my life was the triplets. Mostly due to the fact we refuse to lose contact. Our fathers were best friends their whole life, which of course in turn meant we grew up together, and were inseparable. A rush of hot air hit me as I walked out of the airport, looking for the triplet’s SUV. I glanced at my phone. 

Nick 🤓: 

HEY we are by gate 4b HURRY I BROUGHT U IN AND OUT 

I laugh at his text, before looking up at the sign above me. 7C. I begin the walk to 4b, anticipation is surging through me. After months of nothing but sadness, and fear, I couldn't wait to get back to what I do best. Keeping the triplets in one piece, and modeling. I had been modeling for 2 years, since the triplets and I left Boston behind to pursue careers. I was scared to try modeling, I knew what it would entail. Being stared at, my body being commented on, big Hollywood executive creeps, etc. but, with a gentle push from Nick, I ran full speed towards a career, and made somewhat of a name for myself. 5a, 4d, 4c, 4b the signs read off, I looked around 4b, my eyes eventually finding the three guys I had been yearning to see for weeks. Chris held a sign, welcome back y/n! with a smiley face. I laughed, remembering all the times we made fun of people who brought those dumbass signs to the airport, before running toward them. Matt slapped the two other boys to get their attention. 

“Y/n!” Chris exclaimed, a pink gift bag in his hand. Nick shrieked, a greasy In n Out bag in his right hand, and vlog camera in the other. I wrapped my arms around Matt and Chris and squeezed. I took in a deep breath, their scent opening a floodgate in my brain. I was home. I'm okay, and I’m home. I pulled away, taking a look at Matt’s arms. When I left he only had a couple, now he basically had an entire sleeve. 

“My god!” I exclaimed, turning his arm, straightening it so I could get a good look. It hadn’t been that long since I'd last seen them, however our last interaction was when I refused to remove my face from Chris’ lap at my father’s funeral. People talked, gave speeches, sermons were said, and I couldn’t face any of it. Chris just held me as I hid. The world kept moving but I stayed still.

“Check this one out!” Matt said excitedly. He pulled up his sleeve to reveal four stars. My hand shot to my mouth. 

“No fucking way.” I exclaimed. Matt grinned, Nick laughed, the camera recording our reunion. 

“Got it for the four of us. We missed you, kid.” Matt said, pulling me in for another hug. Ever since we were little, Marylou - the boy's mother and basically mine too - called us her shining stars. 

“There’s my shining stars!” she would exclaim as we returned from a day outside. 

“How is my shining star?” she asked as she walked through the front door, my eyes fixed to my father in his hospice bed. 

“How are you, star?” she asked, as i hid under matt’s blankets out of pure shame after my first date. There we were, shining little stars on Matt’s arm.  

“I missed you guys too, so unbelievably much.” I muttered into his shoulder. 

“Alright, enough my turn!” Nick exclaimed, pushing the camera into Chris’ shoulder before wrapping his lengthy arms around my shoulders. 

“Alright kid…” Chris said in response to the camera shoved into him, he turned it so it faced our hug. 

“Y/n, say hi!” Chris said, pointing the camera at me. I pulled my face out of Nick’s chest. 

“Hi, world! Here I am!” I exclaimed. Chris whooped.

“Fuck yeah she is! Y/N L/N is back!” Chris shouted at the camera. Matt chuckled, before reaching for my luggage. I kissed Nick's cheek before snatching the greasy bag from his hand. 

“Oh, how I missed you…'' I muttered to the bag. Matt opened the back seat door for us, before rounding to the other side with the driver side door. Nick hops in before me, taking the seat behind Matt, Chris jumps into shotgun. I glance up at the three of them. My best friends of 20 years, basically since conception. Their father was dear friends with my father. The pair were ecstatic when they realized their wives would be having children around the same time. They hoped to have the same gender so their children could be bestfriends the same way they had been. They ended up with three boys and a girl. They were right about the best friend part. From daycare, to pre-k, to kindergarten to high school it has always been Matt, Chris, Nick, and Y/n. The quad, and I loved it. 

“y/n/n! your gift!” Chris exclaimed, passing me the pink bag. The camera filmed on the dash. I rolled my eyes. 

“I swear to god if you got me some fuck shit-”

“Open it!” Matt exclaimed, turning the wheel so he could pull out of his spot. I pulled out the glitter tissue paper, pulling out the item on top. 

“A Lisa Frank coloring book!” I said cheerfully, holding it up to the camera so they could see the rainbow cheetah on the front. 

“Yeah I picked that out.” Chris stated proudly, grinning at the camera. 

“Okay next is um… some panty liners!” I said, showing the camera the small pack of feminine products. 

“Wait, what the fuck?” Nick exclaimed. Matt and Chris laughed widely in the front of the car. 

“We figured it couldn't hurt,” Matt explained. I threw the panty liners at Matt’s head who whined in response. 

“Coke yay!” I exclaimed, pulling out a six pack of cans from the back. 

“Yes, one more thing!” Nick said excitedly, clapping his hands together. Lastly, there is a small box. I crack it open to reveal the triplet’s birthstone. 

“Oh my god… guys” I begin, tracing the shimmering stone with my index finger. Chris turns to face me to see my reaction. 

“It was my idea, isn’t it lovely?!” Nick rambles. I nodded, my bottom lip jutted as I tried not to cry. Chris grabs the camera, showing my neck as Nick puts it on. 

“Aren’t we just the best?” Chris says cockily. 

“The very best a girl could ask for.” I say with a smile, looking at the necklace from the view finder. Chris flicks off the camera, pushing it into his pocket. 

“We have another surprise at the house.” 

“My god, am I spoiled.” i stated with a smile. 

The apartment looked basically identical. Our big gray sofa, mini bar filled with pepsi, dr. pepper, coke and rootbeer, the wall of polaroids with photos of parties we threw and people the triplets had collaborated with. I was incredibly relieved to see they hadn't torn the place to shreds. 

“We took turns sleeping in here.” Nick admits, after he flopped his body onto my bed. I let out a laugh, walking toward the bed and flopping beside him. 

“It was so weird without you guys.” I admitted, turning to face Nick. he stared at the ceiling, pulling his sleeves over his hands. 

“That was the longest the four of us have been separated and I hated it.” Nick said with a smile. 

“God, me too. We need to like… never do that again." I say before sitting up. I open up the window above my bed that leaks sunshine across the room. The sound of birds chirping and horns honking remind me I'm not in Boston any longer. I have no reason to be scared. I lit a candle, before opening my suitcase. 

“How are you doing?” he asks finally. I stiffen slightly. I figured this would be coming. 

“I’m okay…” 

“Y/n.” 

“Really. I am. I'm happy to be back with my best friends, back home.” I say pulling out the folded clothes from my suitcase. Nick licks his lips as he grabs onto my stuffed bunny and sets his face on it, watching me shuffle around the room as I continue speaking.

“Sure, I'm still grieving and I have bad days sometimes, but I'm ready for what’s next… and I was in Boston long enough to not need to go for about 5 years" I joke, Nick laughs. 

“You know mom would never allow that” he says, flipping to his stomach, facing me. I shake my head. 

“You're right. I think she was like the only reason I survived the past 6 months. Seriously "I say sadly. Nick nods.

“She told me a little… I’m glad she was there for you, you know how bad we wanted to be with you-”

“No, no, Nick really. I would've never forgiven myself if you came with me for half a year instead of being here. There's so much here for you.” I reassured. Nick nodded sadly. I know he and his brothers felt horribly guilty about the fact they were living their lives and growing their careers as I nursed my father til death. Nick hopped off the bed, sitting beside me on the floor, assisting in the unpacking of my clothes.  

“I love you, Nick,” I mutter. He wraps an arm around my shoulder. 

“And i love you” 

“Y/N NICK COME ONE SURPRISE!” Chris shrieks from down the hall. 

“Holy fucking shit, Chris, I now cannot hear which makes this surprise useless fucking idiot!” Nick yells as he marches down the hall. I shake my head before standing and walking down the hall. I walk into a usual looking living room. 

“Im-” I began confusedly. Nick sighs.

“Dining room.” He says.  I turned from the boy to the dining room, seeing a massive grand piano where a fold out table used to be. 

“Wha-” 

“So you can start writing more!” Chris explains.

“And  maybe even release a song!” Matt adds. I look back at them, all of them have smiles on their faces. I can tell this was not cheap. 

“Where is our table?” 

“Balcony” 

“Now we can eat outside, so French,” Nick joked. I grinned at him.

“Well, play us something dumbass!” Nick says. I roll my eyes, and walk toward it. Memories of my dad and our piano that overlooked the view of the lake in our backyard flood me. My mind wanders to how much I miss him. I push onto the keys gently, beginning a song I know well. Quiet, the Winter Harbor by Mazzy Star. Nick plops down beside me on the stool, putting his head on my shoulder. As I play I think of my next moves. Was I going to return to modeling? Something I loved, but sometimes felt as if it was sucking my soul dry? Or would I try music, and risk failing miserably. There wasn’t much left for me to lose. No biological family, just the triplets and their family. But then again, did I really need anything but them?

To: Stella Vaan 

From: y/n l/n

Subject: back

Hey stells, just curious if i still have a career?

3/3/24 @ 3:39

To: y/n l/n 

From: Stella Vaan 

Re: back

Hey y/n, you have a shoot for Dior in three days. Best manager of the year award goes to me. 

3/3/24 @ 9:42

March 5th,  2024

I groan at the sudden shaking of my sleeping body. I know who it is and why it is happening, and I am cursing my stoned self for agreeing to a pilates class with Nick at 11:30 am.

“Get the fuck up, y/n” Nick says, grabbing a pillow and hitting me with it while he sipped his smoothie. 

“For fuck sake stop! I’m awake”  

“I laid out a workout set for you, because I know your ass can't do it, I have a smoothie for you too.” Nick says, exiting my room. I glance to my bedside table. 10:45. Chris groans from beside me, I guess he passed out after we smoked last night which was nothing new for our friendship. Chris has always hated sleeping alone, so did I. It’s funny how little quirks I have parallel his. 

“What the hell does he want?” he grumbles, hugging his pillow. 

“Pilates.” I explain, swinging my feet over the edge of the bed. Chris places a kind hand on my shoulder, a sort of ‘I'm praying for you because my brother is insane’ gesture. I pull on my socks and slippers, and slip into the bathroom with the matching set Nick laid out for me. I slick back my hair, pinning it up and slipping into running sneakers. I grab sunglasses and a cute bag and head out to Nick and my lovely smoothie that awaits me. Nick is leaning against the counter on his phone, typing away. The sun is beaming a warm golden hue in our living room. I'm so happy to be back in the Los Angeles weather. 

“Did you see the video of the girl with the monkey in the drive thru?” 

“The what?” I asked, before taking a long sip of my smoothie. Nick lets out a laugh before showing me said video. 

“Day 1 back and you two are already pissing me off.” Matt grumbles, rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he stumbled down the hall from his room. 

“Wow you're extra ripe this morning. Sure haven't missed your bitchiness "I snapped back. Matt grumbles under his breath, snatching my smoothie, taking a sip and returning it to my hand. I scoff at him. 

“When is your shoot, y/n/n?” Nick asks, stuffing his phone back into his pocket before leaning against the counter. 

“Tomorrow morning…” I respond, before picking at the skin by my thumbs. 

“Nervous?” Matt asks, pulling a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Mm, good to see you’ve discovered water, matthew. And yes, I am in fact nervous "I shoot back. 

“Alright so this is how our day is gonna go y/n?” he says with a smirk, yanking at a strand of hair. I swat his hand away, grabbing my shit off the counter. 

“C’mon Nicolas, we don't deserve to fraternize with such individuals…” I say, pulling Nick's arm. Nick waves bye to Matt, who chuckles at us as we walk out. The morning is dewy, and slightly sticky against my skin. Summer is approaching. Nick and I walk leisurely to pilates, enjoying the warmth of the LA sun. Walking is not our first choice, but begging Matt for a ride before 4pm is an almost impossible task, and the studio was a quick walk. I hum quietly to myself as Nick talks to me about upcoming video stuff. My mind listens the best I can, but I can truly only do so much. 

“y/n/n.. Can I ask you something?” Nick asks. I look up.

“Yeah.. of course.. What’s up?” I ask. He bites the inside of his cheek. I sense he’s going to go deep.

“Are you excited to start modeling again? I know… I know you struggled a lot an-”

“Nick…” 

“y/n… please… I just want to make sure. I love you so much… and you know how much I want to see you succeed” he explains. I smile softly. Modeling was not choice number 1 for me, singing was. I've been singing since i could speak, and in turn been singing on demand whenever nick asked, which was often when we were children. Nick hooks onto my arm. 

“y/n/n i want to see you happy.” Nick explains. I smile. 

“I am happy…i’m happy right here.”

[neewtmas]

12 days of Christmas // A Lockwood & Co Advent Calendar

DAY 10

Hello everyone! It's the second-to-last post for this advent calendar, and today, it's time for my personal favourite. I wanted to include an x reader fic for every member of the agency, and after Lucy (day 2) and Lockwood (day 6), it's finally time for George! Seeing as this is a certified George-Fanblog™️ of course his fic is gonna be the grand finale.

But the best thing about today's post is that it is actually a collaboration! I wrote this together with the wonderful and insanely talented Eden (@givemea-dam-break) who understood my vision for this so well and I am so proud of what we created together. Thank you so much for doing this with me Eden, it was so much fun!!! love you🫂🫶🏻

make sure you don't miss out and go check out Eden's other writing here: masterlist

Brother Knows Best

pairing: george karim x fem!reader

wordcount: 6.3k

short summary: George's brother shows up at 35 Portland Row and shakes things up between George and reader

advent calendar tags: @givemea-dam-break @wellgoslowly @maraschinomerry @losticaruss @oblivious-idiot @uku-lelevillain @avdiobliss @strawberryloveyyy @strawberrycowgirly @demigoddess-of-ghosts @thefriendlyneighborhoodmomfriend @boookfreeak

my masterlist

day 1 day 2 day 3 day 4 day 5 day 6 day 7 day 8 day 9

It was a beautiful day in the middle of winter when (name) realised she was in love with George Karim.

The two of them were walking side by side, their breaths forming little puffs of white in the freezing air. It had snowed the night before, but all that was left were some dirty grey piles on patches of grass by the road. She’d had her hands buried in the warm pockets of her coat the whole walk, but still, her fingers felt stiff as she pushed open the gate in front of 35 Portland Row. George followed closely behind, carrying a bag full of books and newspapers they’d borrowed from the Archives. 

(name) bounced up the stairs like she always did, not considering what the puddle of melted snow on the steps that had wet her shoes this morning would turn into over the course of the cold day. The worn sole of her boot slid over the patch of ice, and she lost balance, trying to grip the railing to prevent a fall. 

But that wasn't necessary. George was there in an instant, arms wrapped around her and steadying her until she found her footing again. 

"Are you okay?" he asked, and she nodded, finding herself unable to speak. 

He released her from his grasp, taking a slow step back. (name) could do nothing but stand still for a moment, trying to calm her racing heart. She had no idea if it came from the adrenaline of almost falling or the shock of having George be so close to her so suddenly. She watched as he picked up the bag he had dropped on the ground in his rush to catch her, and then searched his coat pockets for the house key. His fingers trembled slightly, probably from the cold, as he pulled it out and turned it in the lock, keychains jingling.  

Inside, the kitchen was deserted, but the kettle was still warm so (name) just had to choose two mugs and quickly reboil it while George laid out the books they had gotten. At this time of year, the warm, cosy kitchen of Portland Row was so much more inviting than the somewhat chilly archives. They could turn the heating up as much as they wanted here, which was why they had opted for just a short trip over to gather some books and then return to the warmth of their home. 

(name) brought the two steaming mugs over to the table and made herself comfortable on the chair beside George. He had already grabbed one of the books and was intently skimming the table of contents.

“You can get started on the newspapers," he said without looking up, flicking through the book to find a specific page. “We’ve got a few to work through.”

She knew that, of course, because she had been the one to go on an hour-long hunt for all the ones he claimed they needed. Silently, she pulled the heap of newspapers over and started with the one on top, dating back 15 years. 

George took a sip from his tea and grimaced. "You forgot the sugar." 

That wasn’t like her. She always remembered the sugar. What was up with her?

George leaned over and reached past her for the sugar, and (name)'s breath hitched in her throat at the proximity. She could faintly smell his shampoo and was near enough that she could see the little scar on his temple, barely visible, from a case they’d taken on a month or two ago. Wordlessly, and seemingly oblivious to the thundering of her heart, he poured some sugar into his cup and stirred, all the while focusing back on what he was reading.

(name) tried to do the same, she really did, but the fact that George was now so close that their legs were touching made the simple task everything but. How was she supposed to focus when all she could hear was the blood rushing in her ears; hearing him muttering quiet words under his breath as if he hadn’t just stolen the air from her lungs?

It was when she looked at him then, a picture of serenity in the winter sunlight streaming through the kitchen window, that she felt it in her heart. Some urging sense of need, of want. A desire to do this for the rest of her life - to sit beside him, whether it be to research something or remember to put sugar in his tea or God knows what. To spend an eternity pressed up to his side, feeling this thrum of her heart. To feel the thrill of his fingers brushing hers as he reached over to peek at something in the newspaper she was reading.

There was no guarantee he would feel the same, she knew that. She didn’t expect him to, not when his life revolved around uncovering the root of the Problem. But she was grateful for what she got: the time he spared for her; the books he would gift her after visiting a bookshop on his way home from the Archives; the tea he’d make in the morning, served with some partially burnt toast he’d forgotten he’d put in the toaster until the moment it popped out.

And that was okay. Truly, it was.

—

35 Portland Row was in chaos.

George was in the middle of a cleaning spree, rushing around in a flowery apron and blue rubber gloves, scrubbing at every crack and crevice to be found - and, well, there were many of those. Lockwood was straightening the pillows in the living room, something he would seldom be found doing, and it was likely that he was stuffing things under said pillows to save having to find space for them in the cluttered house. Lucy, bless her soul, was making tea quicker than her hands could move and had spilt boiling water on her toes. Many curse words ensued.

This chaos, however, did not extend to (name). 

Standing by the living room window, staring out onto the street beyond, she felt an odd sense of calm mixed with a hint of excitement.

Why? What incredible company could they be having that had the ability to send the members of Lockwood and Co. into such a frenzy?

Issam Karim.

She had been set on guard duty, ordered by the younger Karim brother to shout out when she saw him approaching. In all honesty, she wasn’t entirely sure why George was making such a fuss about it. He had four older brothers, Issam, or Sam as he preferred, being the youngest of them and, according to Lockwood, the one most similar to George. So it wasn’t like he had anything to worry about.

Even still, when (name) saw a familiar mop of dark curls, she called out to the others and hurried over to the front door.

The knock came soon after; two slow taps followed by silence. George was there, staring at the door over her shoulder, tugging his rubber gloves off. And there was Lucy and Lockwood, peering from the end of the hallway like overly interested parents meeting their child’s friend for the first time.

(name) swung the door open.

Seeing Sam was like looking into George’s reflection, minus the glasses and with slightly neater hair. He was a little taller, broader, and, well, more adult-looking, she supposed. But he was most definitely a Karim.

And, god, did he smile like George, too.

It was the same kind of smile that George showed when he was proud of something - full of teeth and elation, with a sparkle of dark eyes to top it off. If it had been George smiling at her like that, her knees would’ve buckled and her heart would’ve threatened to beat out of her chest, but there was something different about Sam’s variation of the smile. Something extremely fraternal.

George ushered his brother in, scooting past (name) with barely any room thanks to the narrow hallway. Her heart lurched at the feeling of his arm brushing against hers as she hurried to move out of the way.

“Oh, Georgie,” Sam said, smiling at the decorations covering the walls, “you’ve been holding out on me. If I knew you stayed in a house like this…”

He plucked the nearest mask off the wall, scrutinizing it, and Lockwood looked as if he wanted to tell him off, but he refrained after the warning look George gave him.

(name) could understand that. He wanted to impress his brother, especially after years of feeling excluded from his family simply for pursuing a life revolving around ghosts rather than engineering.

She just hoped that he knew he impressed her regardless.

The five of them sat down in the living room, the coffee table laden with mugs of steaming tea and plates stacked high with biscuits and doughnuts. Sam plucked a Hobnob from one of the plates and chewed on it carefully, glancing around the room like a child at a theme park. He had a look of wonder in his eyes that (name) so often saw and admired in George’s.

“You’ve met Lockwood before,” George said from beside his brother. “But this is Lucy, and that’s (name). They’ve both been here a year and a half now.”

“Oh. This is the infamous (name)?” Sam’s smile was dazzling despite the scathing look George gave him. “Wonderful to meet you.”

(name) and Lucy shared a look. Lucy looked like she was trying not to smile as she caught Lockwood’s eye. It seemed like the two of them knew something that (name) didn’t, and it had her feeling a little uneasy.

“Nice to finally meet you, Sam,” she said, offering up a smile. 

The conversation went well enough thanks to Lockwood, who started asking Sam about his university life and how classes were going. Most of what he said, however, was just confusing to them. As agents, they hadn’t gotten the chance to experience much of a school life, so all this talk of complicated maths and big, fancy words went straight over their heads. Sam didn’t seem to mind. It appeared that he just liked having people he could sound incredibly intelligent to.

Definitely related to George. Although George was much more willing to simplify what he was saying so that the others understood.

Not that (name) minded. She could listen to George speak in his overly-complicated way for the rest of their lives and she’d be grateful.

An elbow dug into her side. “You’re staring,” Lucy murmured, leaning close.

“Hmm?”

“You’re staring. At George. Hard.”

(name) blinked. “No, I'm not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No! Look, over his shoulder, there’s a tear in the sofa cover. That’s what I was looking at.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes, with lovey-dovey eyes, huh? You can’t even give a half-decent fib.”

(name)’s face felt awfully hot, and she couldn’t even get herself to look in George’s general direction. She hadn’t been staring at him, right? She had just looked for a moment, finding herself particularly fond of how his hair flopped over his forehead in soft curls; how his fingers fiddled with the loose threads from a rip in his jeans, and - 

With a silent curse, she realised that, yes, maybe she had been staring.

At least it was Lucy who had noticed and not George. Although, she likely would have to deal with incessant questions at night when she was trying to sleep.

The conversation carried on for a while longer before Sam sat his empty teacup on the table and rose from his seat on the sofa.

"Alright, that was lovely, but I’m going to head off for a bit. I have some friends in the city that I haven't seen in a while", he said, wiping his hands on his jeans.

Lockwood stood up as well, brushing some imaginary dust off his trousers as he so often did. "Will you be back for dinner?" 

"(name) is cooking", Lucy added. 

Sam turned to (name) and shot her a smile. "Well, in that case, I'll make sure I'll be back. Wouldn't want to miss that."

(name) lowered her head, embarrassed at the attention that was on her now. "I'm not even that good,” she mumbled. 

"I think you're great", George blurted out, though if the slight pink tinge to his cheeks was anything to go by, he hadn’t meant to say it.

(name) was sure she was blushing now. She knew George appreciated her cooking, but considering his cooking skills, she sometimes wasn't sure if he didn't just say so to make her feel better. 

Sam left the house a few minutes later, and any indescribable tension that had built up dissipated. Lockwood and George started up a conversation while Lucy and (name) grabbed the dirty mugs and took them through to the kitchen.

"So… What do you think of him?" Lucy asked as she dumped the dishes into the sink. 

"He's nice", (name) replied, adding the dishes she was holding to the pile in the sink, though much more carefully than Lucy. She frowned at a chip in the top of one of the mugs. "But I didn't expect anything else. After everything George has said about him, you know, I half expected the sun to shine out of his ass."

Lucy snorted, leaning back against the counter. "George seems a little on edge, though, don't you think?"

(name) wasn't sure where Lucy was going with this. "He's probably nervous if we'll like him. He's family after all."

Lucy looked at her for a moment with an unreadable expression. "That must be it,” she finally said, before leaving the kitchen to retrieve the rest of the dishes that were still waiting in the living room.

----

(name) was quietly humming to herself as she sliced some tomatoes, periodically checking if the water in the pot on the stove next to her was boiling already. The house was still and quiet, just how she liked it. Sam was out with his friends, Lucy and Lockwood were out doing whatever - they had been gone since lunch - and were, in all honesty, probably fawning over each other in that way they so often did, albeit obliviously. George had buried himself in the library since Sam had left, mumbling something about 'important research and experiments'. (name) had the sneaking suspicion that that meant he was doing something with the skull, but what exactly, she didn't really want to know. Based on the faces the skull always pulled after a day like this, his expression more horrid than ever, it couldn't be anything good. 

The evening sun was shining right through the kitchen window in front of her, and in her peripheral vision, she saw movement in the garden. She looked up and spotted a small red squirrel running through the high grass before racing up the tree. She smiled at the sight of the animal and its simple joy in the winter garden, but a sharp pain tore her from her stupor, and she couldn't help the yelp that slipped past her lips.

Immediately, her gaze fell to her hand, where a deep cut on her finger was bleeding heavily. Shit, there was blood all over the cutting board. Without thinking, she hurried over to the sink and held her finger under the water, cursing at how cold it was. The water faded to red after running over her finger, and she could already feel herself starting to get lightheaded. The shock of the cut was wearing off, and the pain was intensifying.

It was stupid, really, that she was in such a fuss over a small slice. Nevertheless, she yelled for George in what was probably a futile attempt. If he was deep in his experiments, there would be no tearing his attention away. Lockwood had tried many things in an attempt to get his attention, so she didn’t hold out much hope.

But just a few seconds later there he was, suddenly in the kitchen doorway. His eyebrows were raised, lips parted in a silent question as his eyes found her finger in the tapstream, leaking a seemingly endless amount of blood.

"Oh shit, (name), what happened?"

“Thought I’d add a bit of my finger to dinner." She spoke through gritted teeth, joking in an attempt to ease herself, or even George. It didn’t work that well.

She’d never had any problems with blood, and she’d cared for many injuries her teammates had sustained over the last year, but her blood - that was an entirely different story. George was next to her in an instant, rummaging around in the medical cupboard for a plaster of the right size. She almost laughed upon hearing him complain that they needed to reorganise the whole thing as he tore a long strip from a box and cut it with a pair of scissors.

"Can you turn off the water?" 

(name) did what he asked. Before she knew it, one of his hands was gently holding her wrist, bringing her hand closer to inspect the cut. It wasn’t as deep as it had appeared at first glance, just long and thin, but it was still oozing blood. Most of the issue had been the sheer shock of it and the throbbing pain that filled her whole finger.

It was easier, though, to forget about the pain when his skin was touching hers. He held her so softly, dabbing blood away with such care that her heart swelled as she watched him, brows furrowed in concentration as he tried to avoid the cut itself. He pressed slightly too hard, and her breath caught.

"Sorry, I'll try and be gentle,” he promised.

He led her over to the kitchen table, where she could rest her arm atop the scribbled-on cloth as he worked away. He was quiet as he took the plaster off the paper, slathering on antiseptic cream before wrapping it carefully around her finger. Something in his cheek twitched.

She watched as the concentration moulded his face into some softer version of a frown, the kind of one he often donned when working away in the Archives on a more complex case. Delicately, he stuck the remaining side of the plaster down before relaxing a little. His hand rested on hers, enveloping it in comfortable warmth, and she had to question if the lightheadedness she felt was still from the blood or just from the way he smiled at her. 

For a wonderful moment, neither of them moved. His hand squeezed around hers ever so slightly, and his eyes found hers; his gaze encapsulating her very soul. She couldn’t look away, trapped in eyes that no artist could ever replicate, and found a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She could’ve stayed like that forever, would’ve given anything for this moment to last just a little longer, but it didn’t. 

George cleared his throat, pulling his hand back and tearing his gaze from hers as he stood. (name) looked down at her finger, wrapped snugly in its waterproof plaster, and hoped he couldn’t see the blush that was staining her cheeks.

"I'm going to take over dinner", George said, shuffling awkwardly. "There is no way I'll let you cook with your hand like this.”

“But -”

“Research can wait before you say anything.”

And that was that. 

(name) reluctantly did what he said and stayed in her seat, watching as he washed off the cutting board and then continued where she had left off. It was frustrating how much neater he sliced tomatoes than she did.

The pain that had momentarily subsided had come back worse, and her whole finger was pulsating with waves of dull pain. She tried her best to keep up a conversation with George, and not let on how she was feeling. No need to make him more worried than he already was. But it was clear that he was still concerned, what with his short glances back every two minutes. She had to fight back a little smile at that.

A bang sounded, signalling that somebody had just come in the front door, and she turned to look through the kitchen doorway to see who it was. 

Sam, upon seeing the kitchen door open, made his way down the steps after taking off his jacket, smiling as he entered. 

"Man, that was exhausting", he said, making himself comfortable on one of the seats - Lockwood’s. He wouldn’t be happy about that. “Forgot how big London is.”

"Do you want something to drink?" (name) asked.

"That would be great."

She squeezed past George, half-annoyed at the small walking space in the kitchen and half-grateful that she had another excuse to be closer to him, and reached up into one of the cupboards for a glass.

"What happened to your finger?" Sam asked, gaze fixed on the plaster as she filled the glass with water.

"Just a little cut", she said, plastering on some semblance of a smile. The pain was worse now after bashing it on one of the shelves. “Nothing much.”

Sam furrowed his eyebrows in a way that looked so much like George. "That doesn't seem like just a little cut", he said. "Can I check it?”

(name) didn't know what to do. She looked over to George, who was busy stirring the contents of the pot, seemingly not listening to their conversation. 

“Oh, no, George has already patched me up. I’ll be fine.”

“George is about as good at first aid as our dad, which is to say shit. I insist. It’ll be quick.”

With one more glance at George, she sat back down, setting the glass in front of Sam. No harm in letting him check, she supposed.

He shuffled his chair around, sitting so that her legs slotted in between his, then took her hand and inspected the plaster. A shadow of blood was already peeking through.

"I'm going to take this off and see how bad the cut is, alright?" 

(name) nodded in agreement, already dreading the pain this was surely going to cause.

George had turned down the heat of the stove and now leaned against the counter to watch them, his arms crossed. There was something in his expression, a sliver of unfamiliar emotion hidden in his eyes and the slight downturn of his lips.

"Is that really necessary, Sam?" he asked, his voice unusually sharp.

Sam moved closer to (name), slowly peeling the plaster off and revealing the cream-covered, blood-stained finger that had her feeling lightheaded again. 

"Oh, it’s necessary. After that one time you tried to patch me up when we were younger, I wouldn’t trust you with a paper cut.”

George huffed. “I was eight. It’s not like I was going to be an expert. Besides, you’re an engineer, not a doctor.”

Sam only hummed, glancing at his younger brother for less than a second. A shadow of a smile haunted his lips.

(name) shuffled uncomfortably, gaze flickering between the two. Tension was rising for some reason unknown to her, and she had a feeling that she was the root of it. But why? She’d only cut her finger. That shouldn’t have been a cause for anything.

“Just as well I’ve checked,” Sam murmured. “That’s definitely more than a little cut.”

“It barely hurts now,” (name) lied. “Seriously, it’s fine.”

And it was. It had been. She had liked it when George had held her hand so tenderly, making sure not to hurt her. Sam doing the same wasn’t necessarily bad, but it felt wrong. Especially with that look on George’s face. He looked ready to kill.

That look alone had a flicker of hope igniting in her chest. Did it mean he felt the same as she did, even just a little bit?

No, she told herself. This was George. George loved his books and scribbling insults on the thinking cloth for Lockwood to find later and reading away in the Archives. There wasn’t enough room for her to fit in his heart. Surely.

Sam was quick to put a new plaster on, this one more neatly cut than the one George had rushed to tear, though there had been an essence of care in it. In reality, she preferred his jagged edges over Sam’s cleaner ones.

She wasn’t entirely sure if she was thinking about plasters now.

“Thanks,” she said, taking her hand back out of Sam’s grip. “Uh, George, how’s dinner coming?”

For a moment, there was no reply. Then George seemed to remember that there was a world beyond the little bubble that had encased the three of them and hurriedly glanced back at the boiling pan of vegetables.

“Fine,” he said eventually. 

“Hope you’re better at cooking than you are at first aid, Georgie,” Sam jested.

It was clear he meant it to be a joke, but whatever had soured George’s mood had twisted it into something different. He all but scoffed as he turned back to the pan, stirring methodically.

“George is the best,” (name) said. “If we didn’t have him, we’d be living off of Lockwood’s toast and jam.”

George’s shoulders eased slightly at that. “Either that or spag-bol every night. There’s only so much of it I can eat.”

(name) laughed and so did George, albeit breathy and quiet. Even still, it had the pressure building in her chest ease off a little and had her heart aching to hear more.

Sam’s eyes flickered between the two of them. “So, how long have you two been together?”

Dead silence. There it was again - that suffocating tension. (name)'s heart felt like it had stopped in her chest entirely, and George had ceased every movement. The wooden spoon in his hand hovered over the simmering water, dripping and dripping and dripping until the sound became unbearable and, somehow, too loud.

Did she mind someone assuming she was in a relationship with George? No, of course not. She couldn't imagine anything better for herself. But the hesitation in his movements, the way he looked back at Sam with what could only be described as acute disbelief, had her lunch making its way back up her throat. That tiny sliver of hope she’d felt earlier? Gone.

“No! We’re not - ” George stammered helplessly, eyes wide. 

“Oh, my mistake,” Sam said nonchalantly. There was a glint in those dark eyes of his. Mischief. “Just from what I’ve seen today, and how much George talks about you, (name), I kind of assumed…”

“Sam!”

Sam closed his mouth, apparently unwilling to be further berated by his brother, but there was a hint of satisfaction in his smile.

- - - -

Dinner, to begin with, went as smoothly as it could after the bomb Sam had dropped. Lockwood and Lucy returned from their escapades, rosy-cheeked and laughing, but their demeanours soon shifted upon feeling the tension filling the kitchen. With nothing more than a look, Lucy seemed to gauge the situation and began talking about some of the strange stuff she and Lockwood had encountered on the streets of London.

Well, to her and (name) it was strange. To the native Londoners, it was an everyday thing. But truth be told, (name) was much more concerned about George… it was strange seeing him behave like he did.

George was often quiet, unless he was talking about a topic he was particularly enthusiastic about or insulting Lockwood or the Fittes team they’d dubbed their rivals. Yet there had always been a sense of peace in those silences, a comfort that allowed (name) to know that he was okay, either just listening or pondering away in his own little world.

Now, though… This silence was new and different and she knew that it was caused by the implication that they were acting like a couple. (name) tried to think over everything they’d ever done to make it seem that way - the lingering touches and long-held gazes, the time spent together and the happiness they always seemed to feel around each other - and she could see why. And if Sam had been telling the truth, George had talked about her to him in what she had to assume was a positive way.

So why was he reacting like this? Why did he seem so distressed by the thought of her?

It was halfway through dinner when she decided she couldn’t bear it anymore. He wouldn’t look at her. Wouldn’t answer her questions on how his research was going. Wouldn’t listen to Lockwood droning on about heaven knows what.

She stood from her chair and moved away from the table. “I’m going for a walk.”

That seemed to perk everyone up.

Lockwood frowned. “You all right?”

“I just need some fresh air,” she said. “It’s stuffy in here.”

Sam shifted in his chair, making to stand. “I’ll come along. I know some good places to clear your head -”

“No, it’s fine,” (name) insisted, and her voice came out rather firm. “I’ll not be long. Just a walk around the block.”

And then she was gone, fighting not to look back to see if George was concerned or unbothered. 

Why did she care so much if he was? He had practically ignored her throughout the whole of dinner, despite her effort to have a conversation, all because his brother had assumed they were a thing. Was she truly so inadequate? Was the mere prospect of being with her so terrible?

It didn’t matter. She’d be just fine on her own. She’d managed it all of these years, and she’d do just the same regardless. What did it matter whether or not he liked her?

But, as she strolled through the wintery streets, it became abundantly clear that no matter how hard she tried, it would always be important to her.

(name) loved George more than anything she had before. She would give him the world if she could. And part of her wanted to believe that, even if he didn’t feel the same, she would always hold on to those feelings.

But that sentiment was just for the romantic movies and sappy novels she spent her free time reading. In reality, she didn’t have it in her to give and give and give and get nothing in return.

The cold air bit at her cheeks, and she crossed her arms as she walked, trying to preserve any warmth that she could. Maybe she should’ve grabbed a thicker jacket on her way out, or changed from her trainers into the pair of boots she’d left out because, god, the frost was seeping through the canvas material. 

She almost jumped out of her skin when something wrapped around her neck.

In a burst of fear, she whirled around and stumbled backwards before realising that the thing was soft, and it was warm. And the person who had wrapped it around her was someone extremely familiar.

“George?” she asked, frowning. Her hand reached up to the thing he’d wrapped around her, nails catching on the knitted fabric. “You brought me… a scarf?”

George, who looked mildly shocked by his actions, nodded. “Uh, yeah - yes. You, um, you left without it. I didn’t want you - didn’t want you getting cold, you know?”

“Uh, thanks.”

And for a moment, she lingered, waiting for him to say something. George stood still before her, looking at her in a way she was sure he had never before - slightly wide-eyed, awe-like - but he tore his gaze from her and looked at the ground.

It was then that the feelings she’d been consumed by just moments ago began to creep back again. Why was she still standing here? So what if he'd brought her a scarf? He hadn’t even been able to stomach speaking to her after Sam assumed they were together.

The thought was enough to convince her. With a tight, thin-lipped and awkward smile in his general direction, she turned to continue on her walk. She’d come out to clear her head, and although she was grateful for the scarf, George was jumbling her thoughts again, just as he always did. And, well, if he wasn’t going to say anything, then she was just going to continue her stroll.

“(name), wait.”

She was half-tempted to keep walking, but the tone of George’s voice was enough to stop her feet from moving. He was nervous. Yes, sure, she had seen him nervous many, many times, but this was different. With the slight tremor in his voice, so very subtle, he had all the power at that moment to stop her.

Slowly, she turned to face him again, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “Yeah?”

There was a look in his eyes, unlike anything she had ever seen before. They had softened considerably from when he had been talking to Sam, and there was a crease between his eyebrows that showed a hint of worry she would usually have to search for in his movements. Never did he show his anxiousness as clearly as he did now.

“I -” His voice caught, and he tore his eyes from her face, instead looking at his muddy trainers. “I’m sorry. About how I’ve been acting today.”

She shrugged. “I get it. Your brother’s here. You want us to like him, but he’s getting on your nerves. It’s what siblings do. None of us mind, George. Sam’s nice.”

“That’s not…” It wasn’t what he had meant, and it was clear that he knew she was trying to avoid the topic. “Sam is a lot of things, you know. He’s annoying and insanely smart and kind and -”

“I’ve met him,” (name) said, not unkindly. “I know.”

George ran a hand over his face. “I know, but what I mean to say is that he isn’t a liar.”

Usually, George Karim was not someone to beat around the bush. It was one of the things that (name) admired about him. If there was something he wanted to say, then he would say it, straight and upfront. But to see him now, fumbling over himself and avoiding the point…

“You’re making no sense,” she said.

“What he’s been saying about me… me talking about you a lot.” There was a brief pause. “He’s not wrong. I do talk about you a lot. I think my mum knows more about you than about me.”

A smile tried to fight its way onto her lips, but she held it back. If this was going where she so desperately hoped it would, it wouldn’t hurt to have him say it directly.

“I suppose that’s what friends are like,” she said. “Growing up, my dad knew every detail there was to know about my best friend.”

If one were to describe George Karim, bold would not be a word they would use. Smart, of course. Sarcastic, yes. Awkward, yes again. Bold? Absolutely not.

But there was no other way to describe his actions at that moment. The certainty he stepped forward with, the soft yet assured feel of his hands wrapping around hers. God, he was so close now that she could feel his warm breath ruffling her hair. And his eyes, lord, his eyes. Despite the slow-creeping darkness in the evening sky, his eyes only seemed to grow brighter. She could see the anxiety creeping beneath the surface, whether it be for the actions that may follow or her possible reaction. 

“I don’t want to just be your friend,” he said. His voice was barely more than a whisper, but she could hear the words as clearly as she would if he had shouted them.

She had known the words had been coming or had hoped, but hearing them was an entirely new thing. She could feel her heart swell with joy and relief, feel the smile that had so badly wanted to break free rise onto her lips. Her hands shifted carefully, cautiously, until her fingers could fit in between his.

“I’m sorry again about how I’ve been acting.” His words were beginning to rush out the way they did when he had too much to say. “I hadn’t felt ready to tell you, and Sam kept pushing and pushing. I thought if I ignored him I could sort my feelings out, but then I got too nervous and couldn’t even speak to you. God, you make me nervous. Did you know that?”

Her face scrunched with delight. “Georgie?”

He looked a little out of breath. “Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Judging from the look of pure shock on his face, he had not expected such a straightforward request. He didn’t speak, but he nodded.

(name) grinned, slowly pulling one of her hands from his grip to push his glasses up his nose before placing it on his shoulder and leaning forward.

As a child, she had not liked to watch the kissing scenes in movies. They had always felt awkward and, at the time, she had never been able to imagine sharing an intimate moment like that with anybody, nevertheless enjoy it.

But here she was, kissing her best friend, and loving it. 

It was a little stiff to begin with but after a moment, they relaxed into it - into the feeling of fireworks and butterflies and warm lips. George’s hand squeezed hers, and his free hand slipped around to her back, pulling her a little closer.

The kiss didn’t last long, no more than a few seconds, but (name) found herself unable to compare the breathtaking moment to anything she had ever experienced. And, well, the look on George’s face told her that he felt much the same.

“I don’t want to just be friends either,” she said, finding herself feeling somewhat shy after such an uncharacteristic moment of confidence. “If that’s okay with you.”

George nodded with such vigour it was a wonder his head was still attached to his neck. “Okay with me.”

thank you for reading!

[thefrogdalorian]

Dincember Day 6: Gifts

Word Count: 2050 Rating: General Summary: It's Life Day and time for you and Din exchange gifts. You love sharing in the joy of seeing others surprised with your gifts, but nothing surprises you more than the incredibly thoughtful gift Din gives to you. Content Warnings: Tiny little mention of grieving parents but other than that, fluff! Author's note: This was just so soft and I once again made myself emo... need to hug Din Djarin like rn IT'S SICK.

You had explained to Din that swapping gifts was a Life Day tradition that you enjoyed and, while you obviously enjoyed receiving presents, giving gifts to others brought you the most joy. You wanted Din to know that he did not have to get you anything flashy or expensive as you had everything you had ever dreamed about in him and Grogu, plus the little cabin you shared on Nevarro. You knew how generous Din could be, how he always made sure that you wanted for nothing. A life with him meant you had everything you needed. Plus, whenever the two of you enjoyed a trip together, Din always ensured that you stayed in the most luxurious lodgings available.

But Din was not exactly an easy person to buy presents for. You really wanted to spoil him, but what could you buy the man who always wore the same thing? Who had a perfectly functional ship, a well furnished cabin and who had a dizzying array of weapons already? You knew the best way to spoil Din was to buy gifts for Grogu, so while you pondered what you would buy for your incredible Mandalorian partner, that was exactly what you did. You had only meant to visit the market to buy Grogu a Loth-cat plush from a familiar vendor on Nevarro. You came away with several plushies, some new clothes and plenty of traditional candies that would be eaten at this time of year. You knew the way to Grogu's heart was through food and he would make short work of the sweet treats.

You felt somewhat guilty that ideas for what to buy Din were not coming easily to you. You loved buying gifts for others, loved the look on their faces and their excitable reactions to the surprise of the gift, which to you, of course, was no surprise at all. But there was one thing that you knew Din desperately needed, something that would make your nights more tolerable if your gift stopped him complaining about the temperature of his feet.

So, with that in mind, you ventured to the latest market on Nevarro, to head for the vendor you knew would stock exactly what you needed. You were shopping for his gifts in plenty of time, which was fortunate, because while you were shopping for one part of his present at the tailor, an idea struck you.

"If I gave you the name of a planet, would you be able to source traditional garments from there?" You asked curiously, admiring the enormous variety of materials the elderly woman stocked.

"No promises," She said, flashing you a gap-toothed grin, "But I will endeavour to do my best."

You were grateful that you had been so organised shopping for Din's gifts as to leave enough time for the vendor to attempt to source the materials from the planet you knew would hold enormous sentimentality for Din. You headed back to your cabin with your heart soaring as you imagined Din’s reaction to the gifts you would exchange with him.

The big day arrived, and you were practically bursting with excitement to finally give Din and Grogu the gifts that you had sourced for them. You were equally excited to see what Din had in store for you. You were sure whatever it was, that it would be incredibly thoughtful. Although Din did not have the years of experience in exchanging presents with loved ones as you did, you knew that he confronted everything in his life with nothing less than one hundred per cent enthusiasm, especially when it came to his loved ones.

The first order of business was naturally to give Grogu his gifts. You knew scant details about his life before Din, as Din himself did. But what you did know had broken your heart, the little guy had been through so much loss and fear over his life. So, you did not feel too bad if you were spoiling him just a little bit.

With Grogu happily occupied by the new plushies and making headway into the festive candy you had bought for him – you thought that you had bought enough that it might actually take him several hours to gobble it all up, but it seemed that the treats would not see the light of day for too much longer – you couldn’t wait any longer to give Din the gifts that you had bought for him.

“Okay, so, the first gift I bought you is something I believe you really need because I’m constantly having to hear you complain about it at night.” You babbled excitedly, always eager to explain the gifts that you had bought for the recipients to them, whether they wanted to hear it or not.

“Alright…” Din said cautiously, as he accepted the neatly wrapped package that you handed to him from your position on the floor, where you had just helped Grogu unwrap his presents. 

You squealed with delight as Din began to unwrap your present, excited to see his reaction. When he had finally torn through the shimmering paper, he lifted the woolly garments off his lap and held them in the air, regarding them curiously. 

“Socks?” Din said, raising an eyebrow curiously. 

“They’re made from Tauntaun fur! I bought them from a vendor at the market,” You explained enthusiastically. “I know you’re always complaining about having cold feet at night, so this will take care of that.”

“Thank you cyare, that’s very thoughtful of you,” Din said, appreciatively, as he felt the warmth of the fur by placing his hand in the socks. 

“You’re welcome,” You smiled as you handed Din the next parcel. “This is your main present. It took some time for me to arrange this, and I'm not entirely sure that it is authentic, but the vendor assured me she did her best."

You waited with bated breath, as Din unwrapped the paper and pulled out the cloth. You knew instantly, from his reaction, that he recognised the distinctive red material.

“How did you get this?” Din said quietly, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I… I haven’t seen this shade for so many years.”

“I asked the same vendor at the market that I bought your socks from, whether she could source rare materials for me. I gave her the name of your home planet, she said to leave it with her.” You nodded. “I picked it up a few days ago. I hope you like it.”

“It’s Aq Vetina Carmine… right here before my eyes. Cyare, I don’t…” Din shut his eyes again, clearly fighting hard against his emotions. “I don’t know what to say, other than thank you.” 

“You can do whatever you’d like with it. I was thinking perhaps of a new cape, considering how your current one has certainly seen better days. Or some other clothes, or a blanket…” You trailed off quietly. “Really, whatever you like.” Your enthusiastic babbling seemed inappropriate once you had realised how emotional your present had made Din.

“Thank you,” Din said quietly. He sat there and cradled the fabric between his fingers, no doubt thinking of his much-missed parents and home world. Din a few moments to compose himself. You glanced over to Grogu, who had taken a pause from his assault on the sugary treats to look at his father with concerned big, brown eyes. 

You sat there silently for a few more moments, fearing that perhaps you had slightly soured the mood by giving Din such an emotional gift on a day that was meant to be filled with joy. But then Din shook his head, regained his composure and placed the fabric carefully on the arm of the couch. 

“My turn,” Din smiled, a genuine smile that reached his eyes. You knew that your present had deeply moved him. But you also knew that the excitement to give you whatever it was he had for your present had overridden any upsetting emotions that the gift of Aq Vetina Carmine had provoked in him.

“I can’t wait,” You smiled, leaning forward on your knees in anticipation.

“This is something that I’ve been meaning to give you for a while now,” Din said quietly. If you weren’t mistaken, there was a sudden shyness that had come over him. You wondered what could possibly be inside the little pouch that he had just pulled out of his pocket. “It may not look like much, but it has a deep meaning in Mandalorian culture.”

The cloth of the pouch was soft in your palm. Inside, you could feel a small, hard weight. It did not feel particularly heavy and you wondered why such a small thing could be making Din so visibly anxious. You took a deep breath, as you pulled on the strings of the cloth pouch with trembling fingers. You reached your thumb and forefinger inside and felt the cool metal, which appeared to be of a similar composure as the Beskar which Din’s armour was made out of.

You pulled the mystery object out of the cloth pouch, but what greeted you did not answer any of your questions. It was a metallic shape, it looked to be a skull of some kind with two tusks protruding from it. There was a thin, black leather strap that the pendant was attached to. The craftsmanship on it was stunning. Whatever it was, it looked beautiful.

You looked at Din, with curious eyes, visibly confused about the meaning behind his gift. “It’s gorgeous Din, what is it?” You asked, curiously.

“It’s a Mythosaur, the sacred, ancient symbol that belongs to all Mandalorians,” Din said, gesturing towards the pendant that you still clutched tightly in your fingers. “It’s made out of Beskar, the same steel that my armour is forged from.”

“It’s stunning, Din,” You breathed, deeply touched that he was sharing a part of the traditions of his people with you, an outsider. 

“And when given to another…” Din shut his eyes and took a deep breath, clearly attempting to steady his nerves before he completed what he needed to tell you. “It means, if you’d like to be, you would be a part of my Clan, alongside Grogu. Wherever you are in the galaxy, even if we are no longer together, even if I’m… no longer alive, you can show that necklace to any Mandalorian, any covert and give them my name. You will always have protection and a safe place to go.”

“Oh Din,” You whispered shakily as tears began to stream down your cheeks. You pushed yourself up from the floor where you sat and sat on the couch next to him, throwing your arms around his neck. “I love you, so so much.”

“I love you too, cyare,” Din said into your hair, as he buried his face into the side of your neck.

You could barely speak, the gesture had left you feeling so emotional. Not just the thought of Din no longer being around, but the fact that he cared for you so deeply that he wanted you to be a part of his Clan. Din had introduced you to some Mandalorian customs throughout your relationship, sharing the way of life that was such an important part of the man that he was, but it had never been anything as deep, nor as profound, as the gift of the Mythosaur necklace. 

“Thank you,” You said, pulling back from the embrace and cupping his stubbly chin with your hand gently, “It’s the most meaningful gift I’ve ever received. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”

“I could say the same about you,” Din said, as he brought his plush, warm lips to yours for a gentle kiss. 

“Beats socks, too,” You said, giggling, as Grogu leapt onto Din’s lap, clearly feeling abandoned on the floor.

“Nonsense, never having to worry about cold feet ever again is a win in my eyes,” Din said, his brown eyes shining from the multicoloured lights that still twinkled in the main room of the cabin. 

You stayed there, cuddled up warm with the two Mandalorians who had just officially become your Clan, grateful for having such an incredible man in your life, your heart full from exchanging such sentimental gifts.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for going to an out of state event rather than helping my older brother with moving my injured mom to a new apartment?

(rather than listing specifics just know everyone involved is an adult with their own living spaces and lives) A few weeks ago my mom injured her knee at work and has to wear a knee brace. As soon as I heard I made the 2 hour drive to go help her at the hospital and drive her back to her apartment. Her current apartment is up 3 flights of stairs (no elevator). I couldn't stay longer than that as I had work, so my oldest brother drove 4 hours to stay with her for three days. I came back on the last day he was there to get her dog, and have been watching her dog since. It's apt to be a 4-6 month recovery period, and my mom wanted to live closer to me and my other older brother anyways, so she decided to find a new ground level apartment and is moving.

There was a large event over the weekend that I've been planning to go to since well before her injury. The Wednesday after the event was the move-in day, and I was back Sunday at 3am and was planning on helping her move Tuesday and Wednesday. She was aware of this and excited for me. So, I went to my event a few states away, had a great deal of fun. Over the weekend while I was at my event, my brother made the trip to help pack and make a couple trips back and forth between the new and old apartment (4 hours there and back) It was around 14 hours worth of driving for him. I was never asked to assist with this, I didn't actually even know he was making the trip down and assumed my mom was just going to have the movers and I help her on Wednesday.

When I got back and chatted a bit in the family group chat, I was surprised by how much work my brother did over the weekend. I called to check in on him and thank him for his help. While we were chatting, he mentioned it was better that I wasn't there, it was too crowded. I took this at face value. I asked him how it went and gave him the opportunity to vent. I started talking about my show, what a great deal of fun it was and how happy I was that I went- it was for something I'm really passionate about! Thinking back, it may have sounded like I was boasting, I wasn't meaning to.

He suddenly got irritated and said he was put off by me going, went on to say it bothered him that I was complaining about my mom's dog in the family chat so much- the dog is VERY annoying, whines and barks frequently, her presence has prevented me from letting my pigeon have quality time out of her cage because the dog whines when kenneled. It wasn't constant complaining, more humored things along the lines of, "just 7 more days of this awful beast," and send a picture of the dog doing nothing in particular, or "why is she like this?" and a video of her staring at me and making weird dog noises. My family is all aware of the fact that I don't like dogs, but I was willing to put up with my mom's dog of course. I didn't think I needed to be happy about it. This is mostly unrelated but he did bring it up as a point.

Anyways, my brother said I was doing the bare minimum and selfish. I stood my ground and said I did not regret going to the event, I was happy I did it and had planned to months in advance. I suppose I could've apologized for seeming like I was boasting, but frankly that wasn't my intent- I was just happy about an experience I had. He did try to change the subject, but I think I must have said something along the lines of, "I'm not going to apologize for doing something for myself." I should have brought up the fact that our mom did not once ask me to come help over the weekend, just during the week.

Instead, he got mad and abruptly said he'd talk to me later, I started to say, "oh, okay, I love you," and he hung up...which really upset me. I cried afterwards and my other brother had to console me because I took it very personally. We always say I love you and never fight, we bicker from time to time but not about, like, real stuff.

I know I shouldn't have talked so much about how good my weekend was when he spent his driving back and forth, on top of that when he got home he discovered something was wrong with his car (my mom already told him his car is ancient and she would help cosign to get a new one), so I understand why he was upset and I do understand that he was in the wrong for being a dick about not saying I love you back...however, I can't tell if I should have come help move things even though I wasn't asked to. Is that something I should have just offered to do even though I'm helping during the actual move? Was I the asshole for talking about my fun thing after he did something laborious?

What are these acronyms?

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day 6 Prompt: Heat @rosekiller-microfic

March Daily Series - 995 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

Barty shook his head clear and refocused on the mostly empty road ahead of him. Luckily, it wasn’t busy in the off-season. Not many were foolish enough to travel to the coast in the winter, especially in a car without heat.

The sun mocked him through a cloudless sky, bouncing absurdly cheerful light off of the hood and directly into his eyes. He fumbled for the sunglasses tucked into his visor and shoved them on his face. Relaxing a bit, he leaned back and grabbed his phone. Barty rolled the scratched-up silver case on its edge over and over on his thigh. When the screen woke up mid-spin, he glanced at it hopefully.

No notifications. Of course.

By the time he reached the signs for the Prince of Wales bridge, Barty was seriously considering a detour into the river. If he wasn’t already regretting his life choices, and there weren’t a massive green metal barrier, the decision would be so easy.

Best not to start trusting myself now.

Barty inhaled deeply as he stared at the cables rising to the outline of an enormous letter “h” that straddled M4’s six lanes. Bridges fucked with his head, especially long ones running over water like this. Movie scenes of bridges cracking open like a fresh, crisp baguette toyed with his mind.

Breathe. Just breathe.

The moment his front tires passed the shoreline to England’s soil, Barty deflated. He was one hour in and already drained physically, mentally, and emotionally. Any clarity this road trip brought him earlier was lost to him now. He just wanted to crash onto his crappy sofa and stay there. Not moving for a week sounded so bloody good, but he was expected at work tomorrow.

When the opening bars of Never Let You Go drifted through his speakers, Barty tensed again. The chorus of this one hit a little too close to home.

Suddenly, his screen lit up as his mobile buzzed against his denim-covered thigh. Evan’s face appeared on his screen and Barty jerked the wheel as he screeched to a halt on the shoulder and narrowly avoided scraping the barrier. He fumbled with his phone as his stomach lurched violently.

“Rosie?”

The other end was silent except for the steady tap tap tap of Evan’s rings against the phone he was holding. Barty knew that sound intimately, but not the tempo. Evan was agitated.

His heart beat doubled and his chest clenched in panic. This wasn’t good. He didn’t know how it could get worse, but it was about to and the dread was overwhelming.

Shite shite shite!

“Before you hang up…I’m sor-sorry I didn’t tell you about Regulus. When I realised that you were friends, I shou-should have.”

Barty’s ears thrummed with his own rapid heart beat as he strained to listen for a response. After another long silence, he released a ragged breath and added, “And I’m sorry for going after your sister yesterday. I was….that doesn’t matter. I’m sober now and I hate myself for acting like that.”

“That makes two of us.”

His heart plummeted to the floorboards. “Please don’t say that, Rosie. I swear—”

“Don’t call me that,” Evan said. His voice was flat and clipped.

“Oh, right.” A chill ran down Barty’s spine and he struggled to find the words he’d practised in case Evan actually answered one of his calls. “Evan, I—”

“Not that either.”

Barty closed his eyes and repressed the urge to beg for forgiveness. There was no hope of that in Evan’s tone. This was going to hurt, he could sense it. The hammer was already pulled back and the trigger was twitching.

“Okay. I understand.”

“Good, because we are nothing to each other,” Evan snapped cruelly. “I don’t want anything to do with you, Crouch, and if you come near my sister again—”

“I won’t!” Barty cried out, shaking with the effort to hold himself together. “Please, please don’t—”

The line went dead.

“No! No no no nonono!” He quickly tapped on Evan’s picture to call back. “Please pick up! Please, please, please.”

A robotic voice informed him that his call could not be completed as dialed. His hands trembled as he texted Evan, pleading with him. The text didn’t go through. Barty stared at his screen in disbelief.

“He-He’s…I can’t…oh fuck.”

His body crumpled against the steering wheel as a shudder rushed through him. He was numb from head to toe. The hole carved out of his chest deepened until it hit curled his vertebrae. No thoughts, no emotions.

Moving on instinct alone, Barty opened his car door, stumbled out of the road, and collapsed before he emptied his stomach. His limbs quivered beneath his weight until he flopped onto his back. He swiped at his mouth and groaned at the sharp burn that raced up his throat.

He rolled away from the open car door and forced himself to push upright. The endless expanse of the river where it joined the sea spread out before him. Barty stared unblinkingly at the waves as they lapped the shore, rhythmic and repetitive.

This is it. Rock-fucking-bottom.

A hollow laugh burst from his chest, but quickly died out. It hurt to laugh. Hell, it hurt to breathe!

He hauled himself to his feet, then stepped unsteadily toward the edge where the tall barrier ended. With slow, measured steps, he climbed the short rail and headed down the slope toward the shore. Barty studied the muddy, frigid water as his boots sank with every step into the soft soil. The height of the bridge created a terrifying vantage of the water, but from here it looked tame.

Water was cleansing, that was a common belief. A refreshing drink for a parched throat, moisture for dry skin, and the perfect conduit for soap. Standing here before a river wide enough to swallow an entire city whole was humbling.

I would only make short-lived splash.

With a short burst of adrenaline, Barty ran forward, threw his arm back, and flung his mobile into the river. It disappeared beneath the waves without a sound. No splash, no interruption.

Inconsequential.

Next Part>>>

[cottoncandy-cult]

Calmer Days

Zack Foster x LilSis! Reader

I'm finally getting around to transferring a lot of my stuff from Wattpad to here, so here is the first of many to come. Might event transfer my Zack Foster Scenarios book. But that depends, I might save that book and one of my others for my Ao3 incase they're too long to post without multiple parts of just one scenario. Oh how I wish the organization on here was better, and that we didn't have such a small word count limit.

Anyways TW: Lot's of swearing and references to child abuse (If you know anything about Angels of Death or Zack you know his story isn't a happy one.)

Zack was stretched out on the couch in his room on floor B-6, his younger sister was walking around trying to clean up a little. Unlike her big brother she wasn't a blood thirsty killer, just a quiet girl who loved her brother dearly. She had bandages around her right arm and around her waist, she was maybe 5 when Zack had been set on fire, in her attempt to help put him out she had been burned as well. "Why do you even bother? This place is a shit hole anyways, not like we'll be having guests any time soon " (Y/n) only smiled, putting an empty box in a trash bag. She was on decent terms with Danny, so usually when he went out, she'd ask him to pick up one or two things. "Because I'm tired of not being able to walk without stepping on something, besides... I can't help it..." The young girl looked down, Zack only sighed as he got up and approached her. (Y/n) had been abused much like Zack, despite being so young their mother treated her as a maid. She took care of most the chores, and if things weren't up to their mother's standards, she'd be beaten with a leather belt. Zack tried to stand up for her, but then they started using her to punish him.

Zack may not have remembered much about the night he was set ablaze, but she did, and her heart ached. Their whore mother brought one of her John's home, the bastard had slapped (Y/n) because the beer she brought him wasn't cold enough. Zack had immediately stepped up; the fight was verbal at first. But then he drug Zack to the garage, having locked the door that led into the house. But when (Y/n) heard his screams she ran around through the door on the side of the garage, she was horrified at what she saw. She wasn't sure how she caught fire, thinking back she figured when she tripped running into the garage that her arm had touched a puddle of gas. So, when she got close to put him out, she figured that's when it caught fire. Their mother had been the one to put them out, but she simply wrapped them up in bandages and dumped them off at the shitty house that night.

The two were all they really had, so he had no second thoughts of pulling the girl into his chest. He always felt guilty for when they were kids, how often she was hurt just because he messed up. "I promise (Y/n), no one will hurt you ever again. If they try, I'll fucking kill them." His voice was soft but gruff, the girl dropping the garbage bag in favor of hugging him back. Her body relaxed into it, the only time she felt safe was when she was close to her brother. She blamed him for nothing, he did his best and he couldn't help the positions they had been put in. "Thank you, bubba..." Her voice was soft, Zack petting her for a moment before going back to the couch.

(Y/n) smiled, picking up the bag and continuing to clean. She had the best big brother in the world, no one could tell her otherwise. "Hey Zack?..." The girl turned to her brother who flipped through the pages of a magazine, he couldn't read but he liked the pages. "What?" He didn't glance up, but she knew he was listening. "You'll never leave me... Right?" That got his attention, he looked to her with a raised eyebrow. "The fuck you talking about? Of course, I wouldn't leave you stupid." That made the girl giggle and nod, going back to cleaning. Zack smiled softly as he watched, then went back to his magazine. She was his sanity.

[cerromoreno]

Starbula Week, Day 5: Alternate Universe and Day 6: Family / Holiday

This weekend has been crazy busy, so I guess I’m just combining the two most recent Starbula Week days for the price of one 😅

Basically, this is just a continuation of my post last year that explored the future daughter (Meredith Quill) that I imagine Peter and Nebula having. I won’t rehash it all here, but basically I picture her looking like Millie Bobby Brown, just blue (like…tell me there isn’t *some* resemblance here)

At the time, I didn’t realize that Millie was actually going to be starring in a movie with Chris Pratt (made by the Russo brothers, no less), called The Electric State, which will be releasing in 2025. And now that promo is starting up for it, my Starbula brain is quite delighted 🤭

So in today’s combo Starbula Week post, I’ll both share my headcanon about how an AU Meredith and Peter could fit into the visuals and plot of The Electric State…and, first, some recent press tour photos that look like Peter hanging out with his young adult daughter and make my heart happy 🥲💗

I’m sorry, this is STUPIDLY CUTE. I’ll also just assume that Peter recently lost a bet and had to shave his beard, since otherwise I can't think of why he'd be without his lovely facial hair from Vol 3 😤

Ok, so now for the Starbula/The Electric State AU!

I will admit, basically the only Starbula element here is the fact that she and Peter are married with an adorable daughter who is now in college on earth 😅

Also, I know nothing about this movie aside from what I've seen in the trailer! Everything here is 100% vibes lmao

So in this AU, somehow Peter and Meredith get stranded in a robot apocalypse and have to work together to save the world/escape/rescue Nebula/etc. I actually think it’s a cute concept in general, because how many father-daughter buddy-adventure films are there? 

Ok, here we go...

Meredith's first semester of college has just ended, and Peter comes to earth to bring her back home to Knowhere for winter break. Nebula can’t make it because an important work trip came up that she couldn’t reschedule, which is why she’s not on this adventure lol 🙃

On the way to Knowhere, the two get intercepted and basically kidnapped/trapped on this planet where robots have taken over. (And this is the only universe where this happens, hence it being an AU.) Maybe Meredith and Peter's ship get captured and brought to the planet via tractor beam, maybe it gets boarded and they're forced on to the robots' ship, idk. But clearly these robots had been looking for them…😱 *cue suspense*

Once Meredith and Peter are on the planet, they realize that they can’t escape or call for help, since this advanced robot tech is jamming all of their own technology. They somehow manage to escape their captors, and are now on the run in this strange planet, without a way to call Nebula or the Guardians to rescue them. They end up here for several weeks (months?), hence Peter’s hair getting shaggy and Meredith having a super 90’s hairstyle. (In reality, I think the movie is just set in an alternate 1990’s lol) 

In the meantime, they learn how to work together as a father/daughter duo. Peter reluctantly teaches Meredith how to use a gun and fight, and, after feeling sheltered and coddled by her parents her whole life, Meredith finally feels like she’s being respected and treated like an equal by her dad.

(Of course, who can blame Peter and Nebula for coddling their daughter and wanting her to have a safe, sheltered life, after the childhoods they had both had?)

Also, since there seem to be some nice robots that they team up with in this movie, I guess during their adventures, they end up gathering a little team of friendly robots who want to overthrow the evil robots who are in charge of the planet.

Eventually, Peter and Meredith learn the backstory of these robots, and why the two of them have been brought here. The robots were originally made on earth, or some earth-like planet, that had decided to scrap the idea of sentient robots entirely and sent them all into space, where they crash-landed on this random planet and eventually took it over.

(Maybe the evil leader robots want to take over the universe – typical 🙃 – in retribution for being cast out by their creators, and the nice robots just want to live in this planet in peace, but are being forced to cooperate with the evil, in-charge robots or be taken apart...)

Meredith and Peter also learn that they’ve been kidnapped and brought here as bait for Nebula, who the robot leaders have been enthralled with ever since they’d learned about her – a being who is both mostly robot and is alive. They'd decided that by holding her family ransom, she’d be forced to give herself up in exchange for their safety. What these robot leaders actually wanted with Nebula, Peter and Meredith still aren't sure.

But once Peter and Meredith are eventually kidnapped, Nebula (who has, along with the rest of Knowhere, been distraught for weeks at the disappearance of her family) is sent a message: Unless she comes to their planet, alone, within 24 hours, her daughter and husband will be killed. 

Nebula's arrival on the planet basically starts the climax of the "movie," where she learns that the robot leaders’ goal is to finish her “upgrades,” making her 100% robotic like them. That way, she can be a sort of god for them as they fulfill their "destiny" of wiping out the universe of non-robotic creatures. (The more I thought about this scenario, the more this actually seemed like an MCU-esque mission/galaxy threat, lol.)

Meredith, who is restrained next to her dad, tries to convince her mom not to go along with the exchange and to escape while she still can. However, when a guard begins torturing Meredith in front of her, Nebula distraught, agrees to all of their terms. Of course she’d do anything to protect her daughter. 

And then, of course, they all somehow get out of it 🤪 Maybe Meredith and Peter's new robot friends, who had always been undervalued by the more advanced robots that took charge of the planet, are able to sneak Meredith a gun and she is able to kill the robots holding her captive and free herself, Peter, and Nebula. Then, once they’re all free, the trio – plus their robot friends – are able to destroy the robot leaders for good and free the rest of the planet from their control. Yayyyy

And in the process, the Meredith and Peter (and Nebula!) of this AU have gotten to grow closer, having survived a robot apocalypse and even saved the galaxy together. 

So there you go! My extremely random Starbula AU...with visuals to go with it! 😉

I really do love that no matter how the movie turns out (even though it sounds like the relationship between Millie and Chris’ characters is central to the plot, which is amazing), it will definitely have some fun visuals and vibes to fuel this AU that I've come up with. Can't wait for March 2025! 🥳

@starbula-week

[maleficore]

I really don't think I'll ever get to actually writing it this decade because I have just That Many other wips and this story is Long, but my god I keep rolling that RDR2 Modern AU of mine in my head like a pretty pebble and I have Many Thoughts. Looong ramble under the cut.

The general gist of it that it's supposed to be a "happy ending" to a true crime story, but it isn't. Not for a long while, at least. Like imagine watching a 45 minute documentary on a missing person's case, the credits roll and you're like "Wow so happy that they turned up in the end" but on the other side of the country that person has been having the worst fucking time for the past year and would've probably been better off missing.

Let me explain.

Up until May 1999 the story plays out like your run of the mill Modern AU that is kept as close to canon as I can make it. Of course some things are different in the way that comes from throwing everything a 100 years into the future like how Eliza and Isaac died in a car accident, not a home robbery. People have jobs that are different, some backstories needed to be adjusted. Arthur's last name is Matthews and not Morgan, having been adopted by Hosea and Bessie when he was around 8 or so. Him and Mary have actually been married, but it still didn't work out. Small divergences, seemingly inconsequential.

Then on May 18th Arthur Matthews goes missing. Leaves no clues as to what might've caused him to leave and where, had showed no signs anything could be wrong before he disappeared. A proper mystery. Of course it's a big thing for a while, Hosea being a pretty well known crook defence lawyer makes it interesting for the news, but after 6 months of nothing even the nastiest vultures get bored and everyone pretty much assumes Arthur to have died. Especially since he's well known to be a recovering alcoholic with multiple relapses under his belt. Probably fell off the wagon again, tripped into a ditch, hit his head. Dead.

That's when Arthur Morgan shows up.

It's up to the reader to decide if this is some universe warping time travel shenanigans or if he's the same person that went missing, just having an episode of some sorts. To everyone in the story Arthur "I'm telling you, I jumped off a sinking boat in 1899 and then showed up here" Morgan comes off as Mentally Unwell, so it doesn't really matter since it is not told from his perspective anyway and there's no way of really knowing.

(It's John's POV by the way. Forgot to mention that, whoopsie.)

And the entire story is basically a whumpy hate letter to all time travel AUs where Arthur gets yeeted into our times and pretty much shrugs it off with minor discomfort (/lh I don't actually hate those, they're silly fun, but they're not realistic?? And I am a realism nerd). Here, he gets majorly fucked up by it. Because how could he not be? First off, Hosea, who he just watched die maybe days prior, is alive and well. So is Sean and so is Lenny. He may be happy, but all that only makes everything feel even less real, pushes him further into believing that the reality he's in is some sort of a mirage or a dream. People talk about all these things that have not happened to him, there are pictures of a stranger with his face in places he's never been to. It's distressing and Arthur might be a guy that handles pressure well, but I doubt there's a single person on earth that wouldn't break under the weight of that. He's no different.

He keeps getting really distressed whenever that kind of stuff gets brought up too often. Starts having regular panic attacks, gets put on medication, sent to therapy. The "gang" are there to help him through it, but the situation takes a lot out John in particular once he realises that whatever has happened to Arthur seems unlikely to be reversed. Just as much as the person in every single family picture is a stranger to Arthur, this Arthur is a stranger to John. It's like he really died in a way. So the plot is just as much Arthur learning to cope and maybe eventually accepting that all of this is real and he's just "crazy", as John watching him go through it while simultaneously grieving the person he no longer is.

Basically an essay pondering the question "What makes us who we are, our memories or personality?" disguised as a fanfic because I like getting philosophical sometimes lol And I genuinely love it. This AU is my baby and really want to work on it, but it would have to straight up be a novel-length story. I don't have that in me 😭😭

[karatekels]

I am so happy I found your blog! Your writing is amazing! Could you write a story about CK Terry meeting reader but she's in LA only for the summer vacation so he only has a couple of weeks to convince her to stay with him?

I’m glad you found your way here too! This one really took my imagination for a ride, so thank you for the prompt. I hope you enjoy, and sorry for the wait! (I'm imagining this will be in 5 or 6 parts, and I'll update with links at the bottom as I go!)

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(Note: Reader is in L.A. for 2 weeks, and meets Terry on Day 4, so the fic will take place across Days 4-14 of her trip!)

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Fresh Start

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Day 4

You’ve come to the conclusion that you are, in fact, a very boring person.

It’s only your third full day of a two week trip to L.A. and you are already out of ideas of how to spend your time. You’d come here for a vacation, for time away from everything. You were between jobs, you had ended a long-term relationship somewhat amicably, and you needed time away from your well-meaning but extremely overbearing mother who had been more hurt by your recent break-up than both you and your ex combined. No, you supposed you likely wouldn’t marry before 30. Why exactly was this her problem?

The idea was to come here, relax in the sun, see the ocean and, most importantly, not think about the mess you had left at home. However, after taking the first day to get settled and relax after your flight, and then two days of wandering around boardwalks, you had spent the morning doing nothing but dwell on your problems. What was wrong with you? What twentysomething got bored while on vacation in LA?

You suppose it’s just because you were here alone. You didn’t have any friends here, and you weren’t exactly the person who went out clubbing, especially with people you’d just met. Of course your thoughts are driving you crazy.

Your eyes flit over to the stack of books that you had brought with you; you could never go anywhere without something to read. Perhaps reading, getting lost in another world, would help your mind escape your problems the way your trip had allowed you to physically escape the tensions of being at home. This vacation was the closest thing you were going to get to a fresh start, and you were going to do whatever made you happy, even if that meant doing something you would likely do at home. Still, you suppose you should at least go find somewhere scenic to read. Throwing a few of your books into your favourite tote bag along with a blanket, sunscreen, and a change of clothes in case the day turned cold, you change into your bikini and a floral sarong and hop into your rental car, making your way to the beach.

---

You’d been at it for a couple of hours, walking from one end of the beach to the other, but couldn’t find a comfortable spot to read for more than twenty minutes. You couldn’t begrudge the people laughing, splashing around, having fun, but you did wish there was a spot where one could enjoy the view in relative quiet.

You approach a treeline at the far end of the beach where fewer people are gathered, peeking through the foliage to see an oasis of private sand perhaps a hundred feet away. Perfect. Stepping through the sun-dappled grass and trees, you approach your destination with a dreamy smile. You could already see yourself coming here again and again during the rest of your stay…

“Freeze.”

Disobeying the order, you whirl around in surprise. A large man, broad-shouldered and mean-looking, stood ten feet away from you with a severe expression, judging by what you could see of his face around his tinted sunglasses. You don’t miss the holster at his hip.

“This is private property, Miss.”

You exhale in relief before the anger sets in. The man’s intensity was completely mismatched for the situation; he had you thinking you were walking into a minefield, or a wildcat’s cave or something.

“Oh, jeez, I thought there was an actual problem for a moment,” you reply sarcastically, already moving to go back the way you came. You didn’t need the headache this conversation was likely to bring forth.

“I’m going to need to check that bag.”

“You can’t be serious!” you say incredulously, laughingly. The man starts to close the distance between you, and you push your sunglasses to the top of your head, leveling him with a glare. “I haven’t done anything but wander into the wrong place! There wasn’t even a fence or a sign or anything!” you argue, backing away from him, but he’s much faster, snatching one strap of the bag from off your shoulder. Your grip tightens on the other strap, refusing to let go.

“Let go!”

“You can’t leave here until I check your bag,” he insists, grabbing your upper arm.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you snarl, trying to wrench your arm and your bag out of his grip.

“Is there a problem here?”

You both freeze, heads turning to the source of the voice intruding on your struggle. The speaker is a tall, older man, though he looked incredibly strong for his age. His hair was long and slightly curly, and a gorgeous shade of silver that shone in the sun. His blue eyes are calculating behind his tinted sunglasses as he takes in the situation. You are briefly taken aback by how breathtaking the man is; this place must be exclusive if it had security guards and guests who were clearly insanely wealthy, if his clothing was anything to go by. You suddenly feel very underdressed, and like you’re showing far too much skin.

“No, Sir,” you reply, trying to yank your bag out of the security guard’s grip, but he holds fast. “Will you let go already?!”

“I caught her trespassing, Mr. Silver,” tattles the security guard. What kind of adult did this sort of thing? “I have to check her bag, per your policy.”

“Don’t you think if I had anything dangerous in it that I would’ve used it to get rid of you by now? Just let me leave!” you snarl, both of you pulling the bag with all your might. There is a tearing sound that echoes through the trees, and your bag is torn right down the middle, your books and things falling to the ground. With a cry of frustration you drop to your knees, picking up your things. That asshole guard had gotten his way and seen the contents of your bag; time to grab your stuff and get the hell out of here.

A pair of polished shoes that undoubtedly cost a fortune appear a few feet in front of you, and a large hand decorated with rings reaches down and picks up one of the remaining books. Your neck snaps up to look at him – he had moved so quickly, and so silently – and he’s looking down at you, one hand extended towards you. Your anger evaporates under his gaze, and you reach up and accept his hand, feeling him pull you to your feet so easily. What did a man this strong need a security guard for, anyway? You withdraw your hand from his after a long moment, backing up a step or two, and he follows you with his eyes, his head cocked slightly to one side.

“You were right, Victor,” the man says, looking at the security guard. “We have a veritable assassin on our hands here.” He looks back to you and gives you a wink, and you bite your lip to stifle your laugh.

“But, Mr. Silver, I –”

“You were supposed to be monitoring this side until we had the new fence installed,” the man continues, dressing the man down in front of you and giving you a strange sense of vindictive pleasure. “It is hardly this young lady’s fault for wandering in here right under your nose.”

“I was just –”

“No excuses, please. Go find a bag for her things.”

The guard leaves quickly, giving you one last look of pure malice, and you let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding.

“I truly apologize for my employee’s actions, Miss. Are you alright?” he asks, sounding like a character from one of your books. Was it his age or his money that had him sounding like the picture of chivalry?

“Oh yes, I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me or anything, just pissed me off!” you half-joke, and the man’s lips quirk in a small smile.

“I am sorry though, Mr. …Silver?” you apologize, hoping that you’ve at least remembered his name properly.

“Please, call me Terry,” he insists, holding out his hand again, this time to shake yours.

“I’m Y/N,” you take his hand, enjoying the feel of it once again. “And I am sorry – I really didn’t mean to trespass or anything. I was just looking for a quiet place to read…”

“Quite the collection you have here, Y/N: Dostoevsky, Dumas, Hesse… not exactly casual read-on-the-beach material, huh?” he jokes, smiling at you and handing your worn copy of Crime and Punishment back to you. Of course he would have read the classics; you imagine everyone as wealthy as he seemed to be would have a traditional education.

“Yeah, well I always find reading about someone else’s problems makes it easier to not think about my own,” you say, before pausing and letting out a self-deprecating laugh. “Wow, that sounded really pretentious of me. Listen, don’t worry about the bag, I can carry my stuff to my car; I’ve taken up enough of your time, and I’m sure you need to get back to everyone else.”

“Everyone else?” Terry asks, cocking his head at you again. You look up to the large estate he had come from.

“Yeah, isn’t this some swanky resort or something?”

Terry laughs, though not unkindly. “No, Y/N, this is my home!”

“It’s just you?!” you exclaim, before you realize how presumptuous and judgemental you sound. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean –”

“It’s alright, it’s alright!” he says placatingly. “I hope that Victor didn’t give us a bad reputation; you can relax here.” He gives you a charming grin. “In fact, I have no issue with you staying here and reading if you’d like. It’s the least I can do after everything!”

“Oh no, I wouldn’t want to intrude more than I already have!”

“Intrude? Please. As you have pointed out, there is more than enough space here for one person,” he says, smiling wryly at you, and you have the grace to blush. “I insist, at least until Victor returns with a bag for your things. Go and read, and if you need anything, I’ll be up on the balcony, alright?” He shoos you towards the beach with both hands, his rings glinting in the sunlight, and leaves without another word.

Slightly dumbfounded, you watch him walk away, confused by the rollercoaster of events that have taken place since you stepped onto his property. Turning, you head down to the spot of the beach you’d had your eye on, though it seems a lot less interesting to you now.

Spreading out your blanket, you lay down and try to read, but after half an hour or so you find yourself unable to focus on the page. It had felt so nice to just talk to someone, even as awkwardly as you had with Terry. Would it be horribly rude of you to go see if you could strike up a conversation? At the very least, you could say you were just checking up on the bag and that you needed to go – having an excuse to leave if you embarrassed yourself seemed like a good idea.

You decide to change before going up to see him, feeling self-conscious being around him in nothing more than a bikini. You throw on a light flannel shirt, rolling the sleeves up to your elbows and buttoning up enough that you didn’t feel too exposed, and swap your sarong for a pair of shorts.

Bundling up the rest of your things in your blanket, you wander up the path from the beach to the flight of stairs leading to the balcony. Quietly, you climb up the stairs, hoping that you aren’t interrupting the man doing anything important. As you approach the top of the stairs, the patio comes into view. You see Terry signing some papers before handing them to a woman who seemed to be a housekeeper, and catch the end of their conversation.

“– see where Victor has run off to. He was supposed to find a bag for – for you!” he says, spotting you and giving you a pleased smile. You smile back shyly, and he dismisses the other woman with a “Thank you, Karla,” before turning his attention fully to you. “Hello again, Y/N. Is there something you need?”

“Oh, I was just coming to check and see if you’d found a bag, but I can see you’re already on the case, so I –”

“I’m sure he’ll be back shortly. In the meantime, why don’t you join me?” he asks, gesturing to a comfortable-looking patio chair across from him. You bite your lip nervously.

“You’re sure I’m not interrupting anything?”

“You know, you’re starting to make me feel quite boring, sitting around my own home without something better to do,” Terry replies, giving you an amused look.

“I just assumed that entertaining trespassers isn’t likely to be at the top of your priority list,” you reply, setting your things on the ground beside the chair before taking a seat.

“Well, you’re the first one to make it past the snipers,” Terry quips, smiling at your laughter. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Oh no, I’m fine, really –”

“What will it take for you to stop feeling like you’re bothering me?” he asks seriously, arching an eyebrow at you. The woman from before, Karla, reappears with a large tote bag. I guess Victor scares easy, you think to yourself with a smirk, missing Terry ask the woman to bring out a bottle of white wine and two glasses. He takes in your smug expression as you put your things in the new bag, one corner of his mouth curling up in a smile.

“You’ve scared away my head of security,” he comments, and your eyes flit back to his. Had you been that obvious? “Proud of yourself?”

You laugh softly. “I may just have a teensy issue with authority and the way people like to abuse it.”

“Is that why you’re in town? Are you a wanted woman?” he jokes, taking the bottle of wine Karla has returned with and pouring two glasses, handing yours to you. You smile over the rim of your glass.

“Nothing that exciting, I’m afraid. I just needed some time away to clear my head,” you explain, taking a sip of your beverage. Somehow, you feel like you can taste how expensive it is.

“Ah yes, you mentioned that’s why you were carrying the existential library with you.” He seems visibly pleased that you’re no longer trying to flee at every opportunity, even after Karla returning with the tote. “So, work or personal life? What’s giving you trouble?”

“Would you believe me if I said both?” you reply, groaning for emphasis. “I just wanted to get away for awhile and not have to think about things, but I’ve only been here for a few days and I’m already going stir-crazy with my thoughts.”

Terry doesn’t press you on your problems back home, picking up on your reluctance to talk about them. “There are countless things to do in Los Angeles if you’re looking for distraction. What have you tried so far?”

You briefly summarize the few events from the past couple of days over your glass of wine. Terry asks a couple of follow up questions, and recommends a few museums and gardens he thinks you should see. You’re grateful for his efforts, but mostly you’re just happy to actually be talking to someone for the first time in days. Eventually though, your glass runs empty.

“I should really get going; plus, I have to drive,” you insist, snatching your glass off the table quickly as he goes to refill it. He pauses with the bottle in hand, seemingly surprised by your reflexes, before offering a resigned smile and setting it back down. You stand, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“Thank you for the drink, and for not letting your security guard eviscerate me,” you say graciously, smiling a bit wickedly as you extend your hand towards his. “I’m very glad I trespassed, Terry.”

“Thank you for keeping an old man company, Y/N” he replies, shaking your hand perhaps a little longer than necessary. “I hope you find something of interest during the rest of your time here.”

“Well if I don’t, I know whose door to knock on!” you tease, grinning up at him. “Bye, Terry.”

“Have a good evening, Y/N,” he replies quietly after you as you walk down the stairs towards the public beach.

“Tell Victor goodbye from me!” you call over your shoulder, smiling at him. You hear his laughter echo through the trees, slowing your pace so that you can appreciate the sound for a moment longer.

Day 5: Terry’s POV

There is a knock on the back door of the estate, and Terry walks through the ground floor to answer it, the staff seeming to have disappeared somewhere for the moment. It was later in the evening, but still too early for them to have gone home yet. Something feels off, like there is a strange tension in the air, but Terry carries on towards the door, unperturbed by the energy.

He opens the door without checking the security feed on his phone – he hadn’t done that in years – and throws it open.

There you stand, in a lovely summer dress, looking up at him with tears sparkling in your big, beautiful eyes.

“Y/N? What are you doing here? What’s wrong?” he asks, immediately concerned.

“I don’t know what it is, Terry, but the further away from here I drove, the worse I felt,” you hiccup through the explanation, your tears spilling over. “Does that make any sense?”

He closes the distance between you, tilting your chin up to face him with a hand on your cheek. “It makes all the sense in the world, my dear,” he whispers, bending his head down towards you. When was the last time he had felt his heart skip a beat, the way it was now? Your lips are just a hair’s-breadth apart, and he watches your eyes flutter closed in anticipation…

There is a faint thudding noise in the distance that makes him pause before kissing you, and he feels his adrenaline spike immediately, the military instinct to jump into action still within him even decades later. At least now he has something worth protecting, he thinks to himself, taking your small hand in his and pulling you into his home.

“Mr. Silver?” a voice calls, the thudding getting louder. The voice sounded familiar, but why couldn’t he place it?

“Mr. Silver!”

Terry jumps, sitting up in his bed as he wakes up suddenly, body still tense with adrenaline from the dream. You hadn’t shown up at his door, then.

The banging on his bedroom door continues, and he growls, throwing the blankets off and his red silk robe on before answering the door.

“WHAT?!” he snarls, throwing the door open and scowling down at the person that had interrupted what would likely have been a very enjoyable dream.

“Apologies for waking you, Mr. Silver,” says the man meekly, unable to even attempt to look him in the eye. When did he start hiring cowards, anyway?

“Then why did you?” he asks impatiently, his fist clenched behind the door. He hadn’t snapped at anyone like this in longer than he could remember. He forces himself to loosen his fist, taking a deep, calming breath.

“Andrew found something in the garden that he says you should see, Sir.”

“Fine. Let me get ready and tell him I’ll meet him on the patio,” he says dismissively, waiting for the man to turn before closing the door abruptly. He discards his robe, walking naked into his closet to dress for the day. As he does, his thoughts turn back to his dream and to you.

Terry Silver had largely given up on love and long-term commitments, finding the occasional woman to warm his bed. The last had been Cheyenne, and their relationship (if you could call it that – Terry wouldn’t) had gone on for several months before he’d let it peter out. Not once had his casual lover appeared in his dreams in all the time they’d been together or since they’d drifted apart. So why, after talking to you for less than an hour yesterday, had you featured in his dreams?

It wasn’t just that you were a young, pretty thing; L.A. was full to bursting with women that fit that description, especially in his circles. It was more than that; it was the fire in your eyes as you struggled against Victor, a man he had personally vetted before hiring him, despite your clear lack of fighting experience. It was your shy, self-deprecating attitude, and your strange decision to fly across the country for a vacation and not know what to with yourself now that you were here. It was your choice of "light" reading material and yes, it was your beauty. All of it, all of you, had gotten under his skin so quickly it had made his head spin, and he couldn’t fathom why.

After you had left the afternoon before, Terry had spent his evening trying to relax. When that didn’t work, he had tried to review contracts for upcoming acquisitions; retirement hadn’t suited him and he still needed to feel involved in his businesses. Still, his thoughts kept circling back to how he could have convinced you to stay longer, and even in his sleep you had come back of your own accord in his dreams.

Terry sighs as he buttons his shirt. He needed to stop dwelling on you; there was no point in thinking about what could have been when your paths would likely never cross again. He’d dealt with disappointment in relationships before, and he could do so again.

He finishes getting ready for the morning, walking out onto the patio looking the picture of ease, his anger in check once more.

“Yes Andrew, what is the big, groundbreaking discovery you have for me?” he asks with a wry smile.

“I found this near the path to the beachfront this morning, Mr. Silver. Is this a security issue? Should I report it to the police?”

Terry had stopped listening to the gardener the moment his eyes took in the object in the man’s hand. He had never been one to believe in fate, kismet, whatever you wanted to call it, but as he spots your wallet in the palm of Andrew’s hand, presented to him like Cinderella’s slipper on that velvet cushion, he finds himself briefly reconsidering.

“None of that will be necessary,” he interrupts the man, snatching your possession out of the man’s hand, savouring the texture of your billfold against his palm. “Thank you, Andrew.”

He quickly turns on his heel and walks back into his home, heading down to the cellar where he wouldn’t be disturbed and waving off Karla’s question about his breakfast. Closing the door behind him, Terry exhales deeply before grinning widely, feeling like a child that had just successfully stolen a cookie from the cookie jar. He opens your wallet, thumbing through the ID cards and crumpled bills eagerly. He pulls out your driver’s license, quickly snapping a photo of it with his phone. This was serendipity, this was perfect, this was a chance to see you again while putting him in the best possible light (who didn’t appreciate a Good Samaritan?). And if it allowed him access into more of your personal life, then that was just a pleasant bonus.

He returns to the ground floor of the house a few minutes later, trying to appear casual.

“Karla, I’ll take breakfast in my office today, thank you. I have a few calls to make and don’t want to be disturbed.”

The woman nods, already heading to the kitchen, and Terry heads down the hall to his office with a spring in his step.

You had been surprised yesterday that he hadn’t had anything going on; if you only knew how much he was planning on filling his schedule up over the next few days. Not very long to make an impression, he supposes, but then Terry Silver was known for his ability to impress.

--- Day 6 | Day 7 | Days 8 & 9 | Days 10 & 11 | Day 12-A | Day 12-B | Day 13-A | Day 13-B | Day 13-C | Day 14-A | Day 14-B | Day 14-C

[madi2112]

Thanksgiving 2024

The holiday was a real mixed bag for me.

It was nice. But it could have been so much nicer.

The biggest negative was Laura traveled away to visit her relatives on a trip planned well before I knew her.

So electronic communications was in order for the day.

While I would have preferred to see her. I'll enjoy what ever is best at the time.

What's telling is the "Happy Thanksgiving" text I sent to my ex, my son and Laura. While all were sent with in minutes, I got two no responses (24 hours later and still nothing) and one enthusiastic response just moments later.

Not to hard to guess who the response was from.

Laura, of course.

Her absence left me with the evening free so I attended a "Friendsgiving" event at the Orlando Pride Center.

<that was just the dessert table. There were 6 other tables of great food!>

I brought some home made Mac-N-Cheese I whipped up in a slow cooker and it was hit.

I returned home with an empty container!

I ate small portions to control my calorie intake. Still, single spoonfuls added up to a lot of food.

I walked an extra mile this morning to help compensate.

The dinner was nice and gave those with no family or those not out yet, or worse, those rejected or unwelcomed by their families a place to go.

<always in the back row! All the way left>

~Madison

[ipsen]

Intangibility

For @weektg!

Inspired by day 6: Romance (if you can call this that). And, of course, once again cross-posting from AO3, as is my wont.

Not to be completely predictable, but it’s more EtoKen from me. One day I’ll write something else for this fandom. Maybe. No promises.

This is literally the only thing I wrote besides Bitter Dream, which I’ll be reblogging at some point. Enjoy the rest of TG Week everyone! Looking forward to everyone’s pieces.

Kaneki should’ve known what she was up to. But, like with most things, Eto was one step ahead.

He was to be her shadow in the days following her arrest. The CCG, while it seized her home and belongings, had designated a hotel room for her to stay in; they had just arrived after a morning shopping trip, where she’d bought that haircut kit.

The first thing he asked was, “Why?”

And her first response was to laugh. “Do I always need a reason to do the things I do?”

“Yes,” he said. “Senselessness doesn’t suit you, Ms. Takatsuki.”

In her chair before the dresser, she laughed again, but it was more of a giggle this time. He felt more unsettled by it, because the One-Eyed King wasn’t supposed to be… this.

Tracing the edge of the box with her finger, she smiled. “You know me so well.”

And he imagined that was as far as he’d get. 

“So will you do it?” She turned slightly. “Or shall I go to a barber instead? Spend what remains of my funds?”

Because they’ll be suspended soon. What they both know to be true went unspoken. It was inevitable now that she was officially on the CCG’s radar. One RC scan and that was the end of it.

“What else would you spend it on?” he asked.

“I was thinking charity.”

Charity? “Charity?”

“Charity.”

His eyes narrowed. “What kind?”

With a flick of her thumb, she cut the packaging open. “You know.”

He didn’t. “You expect too much of me.”

“Do I?” She brought the box closer to her, opening the top and examining its contents. “You need stronger shoulders.”

“Hmph.”

Hadn’t he borne enough weight for enough time? Hadn’t he suffered long enough? And for what? The world had betrayed him at every turn. His aunt hated him. Hide was gone. His own mother had beat him. And now Takatsuki was another farce too, another sick joke with him as the victim. It was all for nothing. All meaningless. He refused to let this world hurt him further.

So, when he was done, he would go out with a bang, and then everyone would—

“Kaneki.”

Eto’s voice pierced his thoughts and threw him off-trail, as it always did. Sometimes, he felt like she had a special sense for it. Then again, she was an author.

“What?” he sneered. It didn’t deter her, unfortunately. Nothing he did would.

“I was thinking of a bob cut. Thoughts?” She twisted her head this way and that, the mane that was her hair swaying as she did.

“Why?”

She sighed. “Again with the whys…”

A memory of trailing behind the Asaokas reared its head, and he glimpsed her from afar at one of her early signings. “You used to wear your hair like that, when you were just starting out.”

“Oh, you remember!” She giggled this time. “How sweet of you. So?”

He scoffed and turned away. “I’m not your babysitter.”

“So cold, Investigator! You’re my escort, right? The least you could do is indulge me.”

She let the box spill from her hands back onto the dresser as she leaned back in her seat.

“I’m only supposed to keep an eye on you.” Kaneki crossed the room to their luggage. “You can pretend like I’m not even here.”

“I could never ignore you.” He felt Eto’s eyes on his back as she spoke. “Oh, that’s for you, by the way.”

He had picked up a wrapped package; judging by its size and shape, he guessed it to be a book. He didn’t say anything— giving her ammunition to play with was a dangerous act— but he did examine it a bit closer.

“It’s the author’s copy for Takatsuki’s last work.” He heard the chair squeak as she stood up. “I won’t be using it, so it’s for you.”

The disgusting voice in the back of his mind— the one rebelling against his chosen path— told him to open it. In front of her, no less. But that would mean giving her the advantage. Giving her what she wanted.

“It’s called King Bileygr,” she continued, either unaware of (unlikely) or not caring for his inner turmoil. “I’ve always wanted to write it.”

Bileygr. Another name for Odin. Rough translation: one who lacks an eye. So in other words, the One-Eyed King.

Three years ago, he might have cared, but no such emotion filled him now. Aogiri, Takatsuki, the CCG— none of it mattered to him anymore. And besides, her arrest had already sealed her fate; any extra evidence was redundant.

He threw it back on top of her other things, and it made an ugly noise. He waited for her to comment, as was her wont, but nothing came. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her drift to one of the two beds in the room, flop on top of it, and then become still.

He watched her openly; there was no point in pretending otherwise, because he knew she knew. She simply stared at the ceiling with those eyes whose shade reminded him of a coming storm. A quiet, brewing phenomenon waiting for the right moment to burst and destroy everything in its path when it did.

Anger.

This was the manager’s child, he unfortunately remembered. The manager, who had left her in the 24th ward, which Touka once described as a shithole.

“Kuzen learned about the One-Eyed Owl, a ghoul who hated the world.”

Sorrow.

Against the bed frame, Eto’s small body looked even smaller. One of the largest known kakuja in the CCG’s database was, in truth, just this petite woman staring at nothing before him.

“She seems to have lost hope in everything; she expects nothing from anybody…”

Bitterness.

Kaneki picked up the package with King Bileygr in it, and his thumb brushed over the packaging.

“I… I like you!! We’re so similar!”

Betrayal.

(…)

He moved it to his own bag, then stood over her, making his first mistake. “Get up,” he commanded.

She glanced sideways at him. “Hm? For what?” Her tone, light and fleeting like the bird she was, betrayed her caged body language.

He walked to the dresser. “A bob cut, right?”

And for the first time, she followed him.

She took her seat again in front of the dresser, hands folded over her lap. He opened the box and examined the tools. He still remembered the style Hinami had wanted when she traveled with him, and used that as a blueprint.

Without a proper cloak to cover Eto, he used his own coat instead. It was a few sizes bigger than her, anyway, working just fine.

The whole time, she shamelessly watched him. Not like how a predator watched their prey, like he expected. It was a different kind of gaze: softer, deadlier. It was a gaze that reminded him of an old knife— the way it seemed sharp from a distance, but upon closer inspection and usage, was actually quite dull.

He found the brush and got to work, undoing the knots in her hair. Or, as he quickly learned, lack thereof. His surprise was illustrated by a smile in her eyes.

Kaneki set the brush down on the dresser and gathered her hair behind her shoulder. As he did so, the fabric of his gloves brushed against her neck. At that, he heard the slightest hitch in her breathing. A crack in her mask.

Affection was such a foreign entity that a false touch was enough to give pause.

He tried to ignore it, but the memories came anyway. Memories of the words she put to page, memories that wrapped him in a frigid embrace, memories that expanded his scope of the world and taught him about its wrongs, memories that whispered to him in his lowest moments that he was not the first to fall through the cracks.

And he inevitably imagined how she might have been when she wrote those words. Alone, and shivering underground. No father, no mother, no comfort— only walls and torn flesh to embrace her. To her, love must seem like both something to be coveted and feared.

It was just so easy to take it away.

Before he could reach over her and grab the scissors, risking again to even ghost some part of her body, she pressed the scissors into his hand. A shield against further vulnerability, further possibility that things could be better for either of them.

Further possibility that something valuable could be taken from them.

He stared at the tool. “Ms. Takatsuki, this is the wrong pair.”

Eto slowly turned to look. “So it is, Investigator.”

More walls, more hiding. She handed him the right pair this time. He got to work.

Snip, snip.

The longest bits of hair fell to the floor in clumps.

Snip, snip.

There was a surprising volume to her hair, he noticed.

Snip, snip.

Through the mirror, she watched him, her green eyes like the tranquil center of a hurricane. Where he often could not predict where the rest of her body would go— wild birds were difficult to cage like that— he sensed that he could always find her eyes.

Snip, snip.

Kaneki didn’t like his conclusion.

“You know—“ Eto broke the silence, as was her wont— “the Commission and the editorial department at Shoeisha are letting Takatsuki hold a press conference for the book.”

“How nice of them,” he mumbled, setting the scissors down and picking up the other pair from earlier.

“‘Nice,’” she repeated, making the word as empty as it sounded. “It’s amusing how much they’re trying to keep your investigation under wraps.”

“You’re Sen Takatsuki,” he replied easily. “Imagine the panic that would happen if it got out that you were a ghoul.”

Snip. Snip.

Eto chuckled and adjusted her posture for him. “I’m just another writer.”

“‘Just.’” Kaneki’s tone hardly carried the weight of his implication.

A pause, then a sigh escaped her. “You’re too much,” she said with a defeated smile.

He used the comb to see if he had missed anything, silent.

“Anyways, about the press conference— I’d like for you to attend.” She waited for his reaction.

He looked back, brow furrowed. He spotted a stray strand of hair.

“Will you attend?”

Snip.

“Don’t be so suspicious,” he replied, failing to scowl. It made her giggle.

“Someone has to watch me, right?” she rightfully pointed out. “So… I want it to be you.”

Snip.

The last bit of her hair floated to the ground. Kaneki paused, hands hovering over her shoulders.

“Me?” came the question.

She answered it with another one. “Who else but you?”

He set the scissors down, now properly glaring at her. “Don’t do that.”

She returned it with an innocent smile. “Don’t do what?”

“Be phony. Saying things you don’t mean. It’s unbecoming.”

“Oh?” She shifted to actually look at him this time. “Have I ever lied to you?”

He said nothing.

“You think I do,” she said. “I suppose I can’t fault you for it; I often speak with every intent to deceive, after all.”

“And why stop now?”

Eto looked back in the mirror at his handiwork, but he could tell she was somewhere else. Somewhere far away, where he would never reach.

She spoke first. “You are…”

Terrible. Pathetic. Worthless. A burden.

“… very good.” She touched the ends of her hair, then smiled with practiced ease. “Well done.”

(…)

She stood from her seat and undid his coat, tossing it to the floor and fluffing out her freshly cut hair. She headed for the shower. Kaneki, for his part, stayed rooted to his spot, the scissors and comb trapped in his hands. But before she disappeared from the room, he made his second mistake.

“It looks good on you.”

And Eto, for all he knew her to push forward and never look back, turned around.

“The style,” he elaborated further. “It looks good on you.”

She stared at him, her expression soft enough to kill. “Thank you, Kaneki.”

Then she was gone.

[libra-stellium]

Tracking Mars transits!

Notes from Planet in Transit - Robert Hand

Mars opposite Sun (Apr 30 - May 6)

This can be a time when some activity of yours is brought to a triumphal climax

This could be few things: my nails were so long and I was so proud of them (writing this on 6/3 and they're all broken now lmfao), i finally found a spray that worked to get rid of the mold on my bathroom walls, and I successfully made red thai curry chicken on my first try!

This activity may have started during the last transit of Mars conjunct your natal sun (Aug 26 - Sept 3 2023)

That was around the time when I started intentionally making food at home more and it was not going well lol i had chef block! And almost a year later I was making red thai curry chicken HEALED

The last transit of Mars square your natal sun (Jan 3 - Jan 10 2024) you had to face a challenge, if you survived successfully you will now enjoy the fruition of that effort

I don't remember if I faced a challenge lol during that time at work is when they asked me to sit in court with them to time the arguments for 20 days 9-5 and I thought I should quit lmao but nothing related to that happened in May....maybe it was a mental thing! I could stretch it and say that when they asked me that I panicked that I had nothing to wear (and hated my outfits the 3 days i went to court bc they ended up not needing me for 20 days lol) but in May I wore this really cute outfit out!

Mars trine Jupiter (May 9 - May 16)

One of the best transits for any kind of activity, high energy, feeling good, belief that you can do twice as much work

I did a lot! I cooked, I went to zumba, I went to get my friend a parking pass which ended up being like a two day ordeal lmao

Extremely favorable time for any physical activity, muscles have unusually good tone and vigor

Yep! Zumba was great! Also on 5/12 I got this body composition thing done at the gym and it was so funny bc as the guy is explaining to me that most people are not symmetrical he reads my results and was like "oh! I guess you are" lmaooo he doesn't know i'm a libra like of course I would be balanced on this thing lol

You are able to act with a complete picture in mind of what you are doing

I've been working on a 3000 piece puzzle and I got the bright idea to put the part of the puzzle away that I already finished bc looking at the size of it is overwhelming! I made so much progress in a couple days compared to a couple months

You can plan with greater foresight and thereby avoid pitfalls and be regarded as lucky

This! I felt so lucky getting my friend that parking pass bc we saved $55! I wen to go pick up a long term pass for 7 days and it was $150 and the guy in the office told me that if I came back the next day I could get the monthly pass for may instead half off for $95 and I was like BET and came back the next day to get it! It was also less work than the long term pass bc all they needed was my name not even a license plate

Particularly favorable time for any work that can advance your own interests

Spent time making the itinerary for my trip to Amsterdam!

Mars opposite Moon ( May 20 - May 27)

When I read about this transit I was so scared of it lmfao I was like omgggg this is literally my trip what if my bestie and I have a falling out? LMFAO absolutely ridiculous i've known her since 2007 there's no turning back now lol

Emotionally based relationships may be somewhat difficult, women may be especially hard to deal with, this transit creates emotional confrontations forcing you to master aspects of yourself you're not usually aware of, confrontations will be most powerful in your closest emotional relations

When I came back from my trip on 5/26, on my aunt's bday, after she opened the gifts I got her she told me how she shared my pics with my mom i'm NC with..... and I was like wtf??? why would you do that?? I felt so violated!! My moon is in the 8H so honestly it wouldn't be normal if I didn't get hit with some random act of betrayal from family frfr

If you are not self aware your actions will be dictated by irrational desires

I AM self aware! I was so angry at her for doing it but I didn't snap! I took 5 days to think it over before bringing it up again

Period of testing and confrontation which points to relationship tensions

yeah this was really showing how on my mom's side my aunt is bc it was so easy for her to disregard my boundaries just bc she "felt bad" my mom was sad and I honestly think it's bc I'm doing well in life so it looks like I'm the "bad person" to her bc i'm not suffering from going NC *rolls eyes*

Conflicts at this time all serve to creatively release tensions that have been buried within you and to increase your self knowledge

True! Bc what a random way to confront the whole "whose side are you on??" with my aunt willingly telling me that she share my trip pictures with the one person i intentionally removed from my life lol

Mars opposite Mercury (May 22 - May 29)

This overlapped with the Mars opposite moon above! And I avoided bringing it up again until 5/30 bc I knew i had this transit lol the boundary I set with my aunt was that she would no longer be getting pictures of what i'm doing and getting details about them bc I can't trust that she's not going to randomly "feel bad" and share with my mom and she responded "I respect your decision"

Today may be full of disputes and arguments

Not a good day for trying to settle arguments because neither you nor your opponent will budge

Your ego is thoroughly bound up with your opinions

Make sure that there’s a real issue at stake and only if you have a real position then defend it

Excellent day for any kind of mental work as long as you don’t have to work with others

Hasty because energy is high but self discipline should help

Be careful for any situation that has potential for accidents especially while traveling

Mars square Neptune (May 26 - June 2)

Deal with feelings of doubt, discouragement and inadequacy

I was feeling bad at work bc I've been so mentally exhausted I haven't been able to complete my work and I feel so bad about it like they're going to message me and tell me they know I haven't been doing shit lol

Taking the easy way will have you face even more discouraging consequences as a result

This may be a stretch but I was EXTREMELY bloated during this time because I was opting for snacking instead of full meals or just eating at weird hours instead of sticking to a schedule lol that was me taking the easy way and I couldn't sleep some nights

Your physical energies are low at this time, try to relax, body is more subject than usual to minor infections, chills, fever, and excessive physical strain should be avoided

Forgot about this transit and I went to bodypump on 5/29 and I can still feel the soreness in my armpits omg and I could barely walk on 5/30 lol I think the weights I picked were too heavy for this day

You'll have a successful transit if you conserve energies and confront your fears

I was exhausted lol mission failed! But i had fun so lol

[harry-sussex]

Five years ago today, I was alone in London, staying at a tiny AirBnb that I shared with the owners (two middle-aged men). I woke up at about 4:45am and showered, packed a bag, got ready, and put on the clothes I’d picked out the night before. I had scheduled a cab for early morning, and he arrived at about 5:30am - took full advantage of the jet lag working in my favor. I met him outside on time - he brought me to an ATM quickly and then we embarked on the ~60min trip to Windsor, where he dropped me off near (but not at) the castle. I roamed about for about an hour and grabbed breakfast and a coffee from McDonald’s, as that was the only thing open at 6:45am on a Saturday.

It wasn’t your average Saturday, of course. I took my bag and a blanket and made my way over to the Long Walk, where I promptly took a seat in the damp morning grass, completely alone with nothing other than an official program and a book to keep me company. I had you guys, too, though there were far fewer of you around here back then.

I waited for several hours and made some friends along the way - a group of women from Seattle, a group of English women, and a reporter from South Africa. We all set up camp together, sharing snacks and iced coffee and champagne and Pimms while we let the hours pass by.

The crowds continued to build as we got closer and closer to wedding time. I’d secured a prime spot, close to the barricade and within viewing distance of the screens, but still able to see Windsor Castle. While we waited for the formal festivities to begin, we watched the guests - the Suits cast, the Middletons, Harry’s longtime friends - and then eventually the royals - Beatrice, Eugenie and Jack, Anne and Tim, Edward and Sophie, James and Louise, Zara and Mike, Peter and Autumn - find their seats. Then we saw the big ones - Kate (with many of Meghan’s friends) and the kids, Charles, and Camilla, Philip and HM.

Eventually, the time came, and (at the time), I’d never been so excited in my life. I just couldn’t believe it was finally happening - my Harry was marrying this beautiful, charming, smart, absolute force of a woman, and I couldn’t have been happier. I loved them, you see. I loved him, and I loved her.

I knew from November 27, 2017 that I was going to fly to London for the second time in my life to see this in person and, at last, I’d finally made it. My post from the first anniversary of their engagement, 11/27/2018:

When Meghan and Doria drove down the Long Walk, I literally flipped out - my picture of the moment is bad but even if you can’t see it in the photo, you could see her sparkling even through the windows as they sped (far too quickly) towards the castle:

We watched as William accompanied his little brother to the altar, and then waited for Meghan to emerge from the car. When she came out, there was a collective gasp - that veil was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, even through a screen.

We watched her walk herself halfway down the aisle, and then we watched Charles accompany her the rest of the way to his youngest. Harry looked elated - I’ve only seen him happier on the day Archie was born.

Before I knew it, the ceremony was over, the marriage had been blessed, and they were standing on the steps. They kissed and then made their way into the carriage to start the procession through Windsor.

I was unabashedly ecstatic by the time I could see the procession coming my way. The crowd was freaking out - cheering and bouncing and, of course, I was bawling. I did the entire time through the wedding too. You guys know I can’t stop myself from the happy tears.

I refused to watch the procession through my camera - I wanted to see it with my own two eyes. I just snapped photos and hoped I’d catch something to see later:

I screamed, cried, waved like my life depended on it, and basked in the fact that my Harry was married and happy and that I loved Meghan because he loved her and that I’d gotten to witness the whole thing with my own two eyes in the crowds of people who’d loved him as their own since the day he was born.

After the hysteria died down, I went and took a nap under a large tree, then roamed my way back to where I’d been dropped off so I could continue with my plans for the day. I ended up with one of the worst sunburns of my life because the weather was so perfect.

I’d never been so happy, though. Never. It was an experience I’ll cherish for the rest of my life and even now, after everything, I wouldn’t change it for the world. I still have all of my little souvenirs - a small crystal glass with their joint monogram, the program, and even a tiny stuffed ornament marking the birth of Prince Louis not even a month prior. I’d give anything for it to go back to the way it was back then, of course - but back then, I’d loved them so much back then that, at the time, it was the single best day of my life.

My hysteria was documented by my new South African friend, who was a reporter. She wrote an article on their three year anniversary that partially described my experience and the way I felt through the whole thing (and the many years before):

I wish we could go back to those days. I wish things were different. It didn’t have to be this way, but at the end of the day, this is the life they chose in lieu of the life they were living five years ago today. Every time I see something new and painful and sad I think back to this day, how happy I was and how much I loved them and, more importantly, how happy they were. I miss it every day. I’d do it all over again, even knowing today what I didn’t then. I’d make that solo, whirlwind trip all over again in a heartbeat.

To the Sussexes - I hope it was all worth it. I hope your new life - miles and miles and years and years away from the life you together embarked on five years ago today - is as good as you’d wanted it to be when you left. I hope you’re as happy today, and even happier, than you were on this day five years ago, you and those beautiful babies. Even though it breaks my heart, I hope you’re happy in your new life that could not possibly be any more different than the life you lived before.

I hope you’re happy. I hope it was all worth it.

Happy 5 years, Harry and Meghan.