#something about the old dress and making it something new

[arc-misadventures]

Morning. For the Friends Au it appears that Winter is trying to reach out to Jaune... and maybe he sees it and it's confusing him as to why.

Does her each out to Saphron and Terra, and seek their advice?

On a side note, great series. Looking to further posts as you have time.

Specialist J.A.

Winter: Specialist Jaune Arc. It has a nice ring to it. Don't you agree?

Jaune: It has a bit of ring to it... But, it's not as special as you're making it sound.

Winter: You should be proud, Jaune: You're the youngest person to ever be accepted as a, Specialist, and the first person of none, Atlasian descent to become one. So, take pride in your accomplishments, Jaune.

Jaune: Okay, being the first none, Atlasian to join the, Specialist doesn't sound like that much of an achievement. But, am I really the youngest member?

Winter: Oh yes, I was twenty when I joined, most others, Specialist were around twenty one as well when they joined. You are nineteen years old; You are the youngest member to ever join the, Specialist!

Jaune: Wait really...? Wait, twenty? Does that mean you're around twenty three then?

Winter: Careful, Arc... You should know better than to ask a lady her age...

Jaune: I-I-I'm sorry! I've just been curious how old are!

Winter: And, why do wish to know that?

Jaune: I was just curious!

Winter: Curious...?

Jaune: Yeah. You have this ageless beauty about you, Winter. So, I've always been curious.

Winter: Ageless beauty...?

Winter: Ahem! So... So what do you think of your new uniform?

Winter changed the topic as she looked away from, Jaune hiding a faint blush threatening to spread across her face. Meanwhile, Jaune looked at his reflection taking in his new, Specialist uniform.

It wasn't what, Jaune had expected, but he loved it nonetheless. It was similar to the uniforms to the rest of the, Specialist work as in style.

Jaune's uniform was more of a long sleeve sweater than a dress shirt. A zipper ran up the middle of it to the high collar. A sleave that ran over zipper to connect to a series of buckle buttons on the side. The front was a vibrant white with red stripes running along the side. The rest was the vibrant deep blue that was commonly found on, Atlasian uniforms.

His blue denim jeans had been replace with black combat cargo pants, giving him extra pockets to store necessary supplies. His boots had also been chaged for more modern combat boots, rather than the surplus boots, Ruby tends to wear. He found the boots quite nice, there was space in the boots he could fit something like a knife in it, perhaps her should do something like that.

Jaune: I didn't expect the blue would fit me so well. I know the red, and white suit me. But, I was never sure of the blue.

Winter: The blue is quite fetching on you; it matches your eyes quite well.

Jaune: Really? T-Thanks...

Winter: Your welcome. So, how does your armour feel?

Jaune: Mmmm... It feels a little tight; I think I need to ask one of the armourers to readjust it for me.

Winter: I see... Well, you can ask the armourers to resize it for you, that shouldn't be a problem for them. In fact, they could forge you new armour if you want.

Jaune: New armour? I know my armour is pretty good as it is, but would I be able to get some of that, Paladin Armour plating if I asked?

Winter: Hmmm...?

Winter: That’s a possibility… You'll have to ask about it.

Jaune: Okay, I'll ask them to remake, Crocea Mors then... It's probably best if I ask for, General Ironwood’s permission first. I suspected considering the metal this is used for your, Paladins its restricted from personal use.

Winter: While I'm not sure about that myself. But, I'm sure he'll agree to it, at least he may eventually let you do that. Once you prove your worth to, Atlas.

Jaune: That's fair. He's already upgraded my gear as is. It feels a little greedy of me to ask for another upgrade.

Winter: So, everything alright with your new uniform, Jaune?

Jaune: My armour is a little snug, but everything else is just fine. But, what's with this sash?

Jaune pulled out a deep rich crimson sash with a white snowflake pattern on the edge of it. Jaune looked at the beautiful needle work before staring at, Winter. She looked away as a small blush crossed her face.

Jaune: Winter?

Winter: I uhh... I got you a gift...

Jaune: A gift?

Winter: Yes, a gift to celebrate you're joining the, Specialist core. I would have gotten you something else, but I wasn't sure what... what you would like...

Jaune ran his thumb across the sash marveling on the smooth fabric, and the intricate detail woven into the snowflake.

His mind wondered at the red sash, he wore, Pyrrha's stash as a memento of her, the gold of his armour was also from her. He worse it keep her close to him. But, maybe...?

Winter: Do you... Do you like it, Jaune?

Jaune's mind was running until he saw a flash of red, and gold in his eyes, his eyes moved up to see the ghost of, Pyrrha looking at him. A smile spread across her face as she nodded her head, and gestured to the sash. Jaune's eyes darted to the crimson sash in his hands before looking back at, Pyrrha, and realizing she was gone.

Jaune smiled as his hands reached down, and grab the sash before wrapping it around his waist. Jaune looked down at the sash, then at it in his reflection. He nodded his head before turning to look at, Winter with a smile on his face.

Jaune: Thank you, Winter, it's beautiful.

Jaune hand pulled on the sash to move it so it ran parrel with his hip, while he was fiddling with it, Winter stepped forward, and readjusted it so it would look better.

Winter: Oh thank goodness... I was worried you wouldn't like it. I rarely get presents for my siblings, I've never gotten one for someone else so I was really... worried...

Winter's rambling was cut short as she finished adjusting, Jaune's sash before standing back up staring directly into, Jaune's cerulean blue eyes, their faces mere centimeters apart.

Jaune: I uhhh...

Winter: Y-Yes...?

Red slowly creeped across their faces before the game of chicken was called to the end as the both turned away,. Brushing away their blushes in the process.

Winter: S-So... did... Did you tell your teammates about you're appointment to the, Specialist's?

Jaune: Uhh... no.

Winter: Do you plan to?

Jaune: They'll find out eventually. Just like when I learned that they forgot to invite me to, Ruby's birthday party the other day.

Winter: What? They did, when?

Jaune: They texted me my invitation when I was about to talk to, General Ironwood about me becoming a, Specialist.

Winter: The message you said was from, 'no one important.'

Jaune: Yep, that one.

Winter: You don't see them as anyone important in your lives now do you?

Jaune: Just returning the favour...

Winter: I see. Well then... Specialist Arc!

Jaune: Sir!

Winter: Are you ready for your first mission as a, Specailst?

Jaune: Yes, Sir!

Winter: Good! You will follow me to the cafeteria where we, Specialist will be holding your initiation!

Jaune: Yes, Sir. May I ask what this incitation process will be, Sir?

Winter: Yes, to survive, Marrows cooking!

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Eh?

Winter: The incitation is just a simple welcome party with food, drink, and cake that we, Specialist have. We're expected to each bring in our own food, hand crafted, or store bought. Marrow insists on bringing his family's chili recipe.

Winter: It taste terrible...

Jaune: Chili? Well... now I'm worried about the surviving bit... Should I bring something?

Winter: If you want to, but you're the guest of honour you don't have to.

Jaune: Why don't I cook something edible then. Something we can all enjoy.

Winter: You can cook?

Jaune: Seven sisters, and not a chef among the lot of them.

Winter: Well then, I'm looking forward to whatever it is you plan to make.

Jaune: When is the party?

Winter: This evening around six.

Jaune: That give me... five hours. I can whip up something nice by then. I best get to it. But, I'm going to change first. Don't want flour on my new uniform now.

Winter: I'll see you later then.

Jaune: till later then.

Winter soon made her way to the exit as, Jaune started unbuckling his armour. As the door opened, Winter stopped to say one last thing to, Jaune.

Winter: Oh, and Jaune...?

Jaune: Yes?

Winter: You... You don't need to call me, Sir, or Specialist Schnee... Just call me, Winter, okay?

Jaune: Okay... Winter...

Winter: Thank you~!

Winter smiled a sweet smile as she left, leaving, Jaune behind dumbfounded as he nervously swallowed.

Jaune: Shit...

Jaune: She does like me...

[julymusings]

Jason is the type of person to put on some shitty romance movie only for his date to fall asleep and for him to get strangely invested.

are you still watching?

i saddle up my horse and I ride into the city. i make a lot of noise 'cause the girls they are so pretty. riding up and down broadway on my old stud leroy, and the girls say...

or; 3 times Jason Todd gets hooked on your television choices [3.7k]

jason todd x fem!reader; this is so real...and so clever!!! i LOVE the concept. i did get a little carried away and lost the plot unforch...also I apologize for taking forever to respond. tw...klance mentioned💀 & suggestive but not explicit. and i do bash on voltron in pt2 a little but it's all in good fun🫶i did my time with them divider

i.

“Baby, I love you, but if you don’t pick something soon I’ll call Dick in here to entertain us with his backflips.”

“Oh, be quiet,” you huff. Though as you scroll, once again, through all the options on Netflix, you fear his threat may be serious.

You reach the bottom of the page, having found nothing. You peek at Jason from the corner of your eye and hover the cursor over the ‘Back to Top’ button.

“No.” He reaches to grab the laptop from you, but his injuries hinder his usual swiftness. You shriek in objection and roll away to the other side of the bed, computer held tight in your clutches.

“Babe.” He groans. He tries to reach across the bed to you, but his grasp falls short by mere centimeters as you frantically begin another scan of the site.

“I will find something, I promise!” You say. “Just one more minute!”

He rolls his eyes. “You said that ten minutes ago. And I’m the one who’s injured, shouldn’t I get to pick?”

You spare him a glance, pondering over his wrapped foot elevated on a pillow, and the bandages around his torso. His arm has fallen flat on his bed, having given up on its attempt to catch you. That alone should guilt you into saying yes; his childhood bed is just shy of too small for his adult self, so being unable to reach the other end speaks to the severity of his pain. And to add salt to the wound, you know he isn’t exactly fond of staying at his father’s house, but he is in no shape to recuperate alone.

“I would say yes, but you don’t know any good shows! All you watch is Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives.”

He scoffs. “I thought you liked that show!”

You scoff back, imitating him. “I did. But a person can only stand so much of Guy Fieri talking with his mouth full.”

He quiets, probably searching for a rebuttal, but you can’t imagine he’ll find any. You use the opportunity to resume your search unimpeded. 

After a few minutes, you perk up. “Ooh, they added New Girl on Netflix!” You scoot back over on the bed to his side, satisfied with your choice.

“What is that?” Jason asks.

You whip your head to him. “You don’t know New Girl?”

He pushes a stray hair behind your ear, eyes narrowed. “Should I?”

Your eyes flit to the computer screen, then back to him, and you sigh. “No, I guess not.”

You’re about to press play on the first episode but stop yourself. “Do you want to choose? You’re already hurting enough, I don’t want to torture you with this too. Besides, I’ve seen it, like, a million times anyway.”

“No, it’s okay.” He turns the computer towards him and presses play. “I don’t need any of my siblings barging in and catching me enjoying Guy Fieri. I’d never hear the end of it.”

You titter at his remark and set your laptop in the middle of you, a little farther away so you don’t have to crane your neck to see the screen. He lifts his arm to drape it around you but struggles with raising it past shoulder level. You meet him halfway by ducking underneath his arm and settling it over your shoulders. He kisses the top of your head in thanks.

Leaning against his chest, the rise and fall of his breathing is too hypnotic for you to focus. Paired with the warmth of his skin, bare so as not to obstruct access to his wound dressings, you are quickly lulled to sleep.

It must be several hours later when movement against you disturbs you from sleep. The room is almost pitch black, save for the dim glow of the computer, still on and resting on your legs a few feet away. The air is thick with late-night silence, and fighting against the heaviness of your eyelids is so laborious that you have to use your hand to pry them open. Jason is squirming next to you, hand outstretched, low huffs of pain slipping from his mouth.

A shot of adrenaline courses through you and you stumble into action.

“What happened? What hurts?” The laptop tips off your legs and falls to the bed, landing on its side as you scramble to your knees and face him. “Should I get someone?”

“What? No, I— I’m fine, why?” He squints at you through the darkness.

“You—” Your throat catches and you take a deep, steadying breath. “It sounded like you were in pain.”

“No, honey, I’m fine. It’s okay. You can go back to sleep.” Jason takes your wrist and gently pulls you back into his side. You don’t budge.

“Then why were you moving?” You scan him for any signs of a worsening injury. Downplaying his own pain is not something you can put past him, unfortunately.

“I…” His eyes look past you for a quick second. He swallows. “I wasn’t,” he says, unconvincingly.

You narrow your eyes at him, then turn around to see what he is looking at, despite his (false) reassurances. Your laptop, still on its side, lies awake and open to the Netflix website. You pick it up to get a closer look at the screen. The player has gone dark, and overcast in white lettering; ‘New Girl: Are you still watching?’

You turn back to Jason, dumbfounded. “You risked hurting yourself…for this?”

Now adjusted to the darkness, you can see his cheeks tinged with pink. “No?”

“Jason.”

“You’re the one who put it on!”

You check the clock in the corner of the screen.

“It’s three AM, Jay. You need to sleep if you want your body to heal.” You argue.

“It wasn’t on purpose!” He defends. “I can’t sleep sitting up, and I need help lying down.” he fails to meet your eyes as he says this.

You cross your arms, tilting your face to catch his gaze. “And what am I doing here?”

“I didn’t want to wake you up,” he mumbles.

You just stare. It takes fifteen seconds for him to break.

“Fine. I was enjoying the show. I wanted to keep watching. Happy?” He punctuates his statement with a shrug but groans through a clenched jaw, remembering the injuries to his upper body.

“Okay, just—” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose between your fingers. “It’s too late for this. Can we please go to sleep?” You don’t wait for an answer, shutting the laptop and placing it on the bedside table.

He leans off the headboard so you can help him shift his body down the bed and lie flat, and you lie down next to him.

“Comfy?” You ask.

“Yes.”

“Need anything?”

“No.”

“Okay. Goodnight,” you whisper. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Jason says quietly.

You snuggle into his side. It’s quiet for a few minutes, but you can tell by his breathing pattern that he’s still awake. He whispers your name into the darkness, hoping you’re still awake.

“Yes, honey?” You answer.

There is a beat of silence. Then, “When do Nick and Jess get together?”

“Go to sleep.”

ii.

Jason leans against the kitchen counter behind him, hands in his pockets, as he watches the microwave dish spin in a slow circle. It whirs under the yellow lightbulb, the flat paper packet puffing up among raucous popping. With sixty seconds left to kill, he searches the cabinets for a large enough bowl to fit the family-size packet of popcorn, as well as the various add-ons you adore.

The first time you invited Jason over for a movie night, in the beginning stages of your relationship, he looked on in wonder as you combined the grocery store’s entire snack aisle into one salty, sugary, buttery abomination in a jumbo Hello Kitty bowl.

“How do you even come up with something like this?” He had asked, ripping open the bag of pretzels as you emptied the fresh batch of popcorn into the bowl.

“Wait!” You stopped him just before he could pour the pretzels in. “Sugary stuff first. While it’s still hot. Then it gets all melty and good.” You dumped an entire bag of mini marshmallows, caramels, and M&M’s in, and gave it a few stirs. “And to answer your question, I was in high school and experiencing intense munchies.”

You gave him the OK to add the pretzels, so he did. “I envy your dentist,” he said, and you stuck your tongue out at him.

Now, with plenty more movie nights under his belt, you trusted him enough to assemble your party mix on his own while you select something to watch.

The microwave beeps. As he rips open the popcorn bag, you yell from the living room.

“Hey, what about The Bourne Identity?” You call out. “Have you—? Wait.” You cut yourself off.

“What’s it about?” He yells back. You don’t answer. “Babe?” He calls again.

“Never mind! I’m gonna keep looking!”

He adds the sugary snacks first, stirring them until they melt, just how you like it. He’s tearing into the bag of pretzels when he hears you shriek.

He drops the bag and bolts to the living room, pretzels scattering all over the counter and floor.

“What happened?” His eyes bounce around the entire room, scanning for any threat.

He’s unsure what he expected to find, but it was a tad more perilous than you simply sitting on the couch, staring open-mouthed at the TV.

“Uh…nothing. Sorry.” Your face flushes. The remote is still raised and pointed at the screen.

“Vol…tron?” Jason reads from the title sequence that plays in the preview window. “Is this some kind of anime?”

“No…sort of, maybe,” you say. “It doesn’t matter. I'm just surprised to see it is all. I loved this show when I was younger.”

“Is it any good?” He asks.

You look to the side, thinking about it. You settle on: “Define good.”

His forehead wrinkles, mouth falling slightly open. “Did you…enjoy watching it?”

“Define enjoy.”

“Okay, forget I asked.” He sighs and goes back to the kitchen.

When he returns a few minutes later, floor pretzels in the trash and counter pretzels swept into the bowl, you’re already watching the first episode.

“This your choice?” He asks. You take the bowl in your lap and he settles down next to you, his arm wrapping around your waist.

“Definitely not. Just wanted to reminisce until you got back.” You frown at the bowl. “Where are all the pretzels?”

He chuckles. “That’s what you get for screaming. Dropped ‘em on the floor.”

You pout. “I didn’t scream. I was surprised. Now the ratio’s off, there’s not enough saltiness to balance the sweetness.”

“Poor baby,” he croons sarcastically. “Only getting a quarter bag of pretzels ‘stead of a full.”

You were going to switch the television to a movie you both liked, but you spent the entire first episode bickering about the important role each ingredient plays in, what you call, “The Party Mix Experience”. The next episode auto-played on its own, and you let it.

During the second episode, you and Jason were absorbed in a competition to see who could catch more flying popcorn pieces in their mouth (Jason), which then devolved into seeing who could dodge more popcorn kernels thrown to the face (also Jason).

By the beginning of episode three, you settled into meaningless chatter while paying half-hearted attention to the TV screen, and by the end, you were laid out on the couch, head in Jason’s lap, while you scrolled on your phone and he stroked your hair. You drifted to a light sleep, coaxed by his fingers scratching at your scalp. 

When you wake from your nap, there’s a blanket draped over you and Jason’s hand is still settled in your hair. You push yourself up to sit beside him, speaking through a yawn. “How long was I asleep?”

Jason adjusts the blanket so it covers both of you. “Um…I dunno. Three episodes, maybe.”

“You’re still watching,” you remark, as the end credits for episode six begin to roll.

He says nothing. You both stare as the auto-play timer for the next episode counts down. Next to the remote, his fingers twitch.

You purse your lips, suppressing a grin. “You know, there’s quite an online community for people who like this show.”

“Ha. Were you part of it?” He muses.

“Yup. And I deserve a medal of valor for my time in those trenches.” You kiss his cheek and stand up, stretching your arms. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he says. His voice is low and gravelly with weariness.

You turn toward the bedroom when a call of your name stops you.

“Is it just me, or is something goin’ on between the red guy and the blue guy?”

“Oh, honey,” you sigh. It’s loud and pitying. You bend down to cup his cheek and draw him in for a kiss. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Babe!” He yells after you as you disappear into the bedroom. “You didn’t answer my question!”

iii.

It’s only a Hallmark movie, but with how he’s reacting, it might as well be six hours of paint drying. Jason is not eager to spend his night watching some boring, formulaic cliché, but it's late and you don't have anything better to do.

“That is absolutely not true,” he says when you counter his protests with this excuse.

“It’s two o’clock in the morning, Jay. Is there anything else to do, except sleep?” You rub your tired eyes. Both of you could use some sleep but, burrowed as you are under a pile of blankets, moving all the way from the couch to the bed seems impossible.

He leans in close, lips brushing against your ear. “I can think of a few things.”

His warm breath tickles your neck, and you feel a shiver despite the heat you’ve conserved in your little blanket burrito. The faintest of kisses is pressed behind your ear, and his eyes glint with familiar mischief when he pulls back.

You brush him off, rolling your eyes in amusement. “Do any of those things involve flannel-wearing farmer hunks or the True Meaning of Christmas?”

Turning back to the television, you take the remote from his hands, catching the tail end of a disgruntled mumble about how ‘I can buy a flannel…’

He grumbles a few more complaints during the movie’s first act (‘he’s not even that hunky’) before you scold him to silence. Once he’s quieted, and you settle more comfortably into him, your head is nestled securely in the crook of his shoulder with arms wrapped around his bicep. The warmth of him has you fighting against the tempting call of REM. Right around when the independent, successful, businesswoman protagonist discovers the handsome, flannel-clad man who helped repair her car is also the single father who runs an honest family business, you start to drift off, falling asleep amid thoughts of wearing plaid in the countryside.

You open your eyes to find yourself standing in a vast, open field. 

Thump. Thump.

It’s unclear where the sound is coming from, but a splash of red in your periphery stands out. You turn; there’s a barn off in the distance.

Thump.

Your legs carry you in its direction. Growing closer by the second, the thumping sound echoes louder in your ears. When you round the corner of the structure, the front doors are propped wide open by cement blocks, and bales of hay are stacked outside the doors. A large figure, whose back is to you, is lugging a bale by its straps. He hauls it onto his shoulder, and his shirtsleeves tighten around his thick arms. He brings it to the barn, tossing it onto a pile of more hay bales. It lands with that same thump.

When he turns around, it’s in slow motion.

The sleeves of his plaid flannel are rolled up his arms, exposing his large, veiny forearms. Under the flannel, he sports a simple white t-shirt, jeans, and work boots that give him an extra inch of height. His face and chest are shiny with sweat, and his shirt is soaked through. He holds a toothpick between gritted teeth.

It’s Jason. In a cowboy hat.

He takes off his hat and runs a hand through his hair. Its dampness makes it stay slicked back rather than settling into its usual shape where little curls are always falling over his eyes. Then, he sees you. A slow, sly grin spreads across his face. He puts his hat back on and removes the toothpick so he can speak.

“Hey there, little lady,” he drawls lazily, the Gotham accent you’re so accustomed to replaced with a southern twang. It does something to you that you’re a little embarrassed to admit. He looks you up and down, pausing above your knee for a split second before continuing.

“Hi,” you say, averting your gaze from where it had zeroed in on a droplet of sweat running down his neck. Your face burns redder than his beautifully sun-kissed cheeks.

He chuckles. “You jus’ gonna stand there or you gonna lend a hand? Compost ain’t gonna turn itself.”

He easily hauls up another bale, and you follow him into the barn.

You watch as he shirks it onto the pile, then repeats with the remaining few bales. He seems to forget you’re standing there as he gets so absorbed in his work, expression tightening in focus. You lean on the wooden post behind you and soak it in; every sound, every flexed muscle, every display of firm strength feeling like the air has been punched out of you. He carries the final bale into the barn and his low grunt as he throws it off his shoulder has a swooning sigh escape you. It catches his attention.

Your chest tightens in embarrassment as he prowls closer. He leans over you, hand against the wooden post right above your head. With him this close, a smattering of freckles is visible over the bridge of his nose, likely due to all the sun exposure. Huffing and sweaty, his eyes drag down your face and stop at your mouth. He swallows hard, and his Adam’s apple bobs up and down.

He lifts his free hand to trace over the thin strap of your top. His fingers ghost over the skin, barely touching. “This is pretty,” he says, voice low. “What’s a pretty girl like you doin’ all the way out here?”

And you just can’t help it anymore. You lurch up to him, desperate to close the space between you. You kiss him hard, and he kisses you back, his hand rising from your shoulder to grip the side of your neck. His thumb brushes your jaw, and your hands grip the material of his flannel, yanking it down to bring him even closer. You pull him against you so roughly that your head bumps the post behind you from the force. He smirks, teasing, into the kiss as his hand comes to cup the back of your head.

“Easy, sweetheart. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” After getting his fill from your lips, he slowly graces a path to your neck, kissing, licking, and nipping as he goes. His relaxed leisure perfectly juxtaposes your frantic hunger for him.

You grip his face and pull his mouth back to yours, kissing him with even more fervor. You take his bottom lip between your teeth, biting down with little care for gentleness, and tug at the skin. He groans, and it rumbles deep in his throat. You soothe the spot with your tongue, and your eyes roll back into your head at the salty taste of his skin. As his tongue slides between your lips, he removes the hand that’s leaning onto the post and settles it on the skin of your thigh. It drags upward, feeling every inch of skin on his fingertips before disappearing under the hem of your skirt. At the same time, your hands slide down his body. His touch explores higher, and yours slips under his shirt to ground yourself on the hard skin of his abdomen, which has become slick with sweat.

The sound you make is debauched, coming from the deepest recesses of your stomach. He pulls back, wearing a cheeky smile. He opens his mouth to speak and says—

“Wait, what the fuck?”

You jerk awake. Jason is yelling.

“Why would you go with him?” He exclaims at the TV, and then turns to exclaim to you, “Why would she go with him?”

You stare at him, agape, trying to process your surroundings and asking yourself what just happened.

“Shit. Were you asleep?” Jason puts his outrage on hold.

You nod. “Yeah— yes.” Your voice comes out scratchy and hollow. “I was.”

“Sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to wake you up,” he says. His eyebrows furrow. “Are you hot?”

“What?”

“You look warm.” He presses the back of his hand to your flushed neck. “Is it too many blankets?”

Though his hand is cool, you feel even warmer, the image of his hand gripping that same spot of your neck flashing through your mind.

“I’m…good,” you say. “I think I’ll go to bed.” You dig yourself out of the shell of blankets and stand, but he doesn’t follow.

“Oh.” Jason glances at the TV, which is still in a commercial break. “You— did you want me to come?”

You don’t know what to say.

“The, uh…” He runs a hand through his hair, and you have to stifle a gasp. “The guy from her successful city life tracked her down to the small town to get back together. She said yes.” Then he sighs, sounding genuinely distressed. “There’s no way they’d end it like that, right? He was awful to her!”

At this, you crack a smile. “Do you want to finish the movie, Jason?” A hint of satisfaction seeps into your tone.

He clears his throat. “…Maybe.”

You plop back down on the couch with a hum. He interlaces your fingers and kisses the back of your hand before redirecting his attention to the screen.

“Babe?” You ask.

“Hm?” He answers, not looking away from the movie.

“Do you own any flannels?”

SAVE A HORSE RIDE A COWBOYYYYYYY

for part one: cut to me sitting up in bed shrugging my shoulders over and over again to see which muscles it uses and if that coincides with the injuries i gave him to see if that action causing him pain makes sense (it was inconclusive so i made his injuries vague oopsie)

for part two: the bourne identity (2002) is a movie about a guy named jason who wakes up not knowing where or who he is and somehow has elite training in combat and surveillance, though he doesn't know where it's from. he runs around functioning on pure instinct to survive while getting bits of his memory back, remembering that whoever he worked for was cutthroat, expected him to obey no matter what, and forget the person he used to be before joining their mission. sound familiar?

for part three: cut to me genuinely tweaking while proofreading bc i let my friend read it and so rereading it, knowing that she read it, was so embarrassing. i was screaming into my pillow & it took 20 minutes to get through 2k words bc i had to keep taking breaks. not an exaggeration

If any of you saw me change the theme of my masterlist 5 times yesterday only to change it back to what it was before…no you didn’t

[tavolgisvist]

That evening in the dressing-room of the cinema at York two girls came in and asked to interview them. They said they wanted the interview so they could make a tape of it for a third girl who was ill in hospital. John sat in a corner away from the group. ‘It’s probably just an excuse to get into our dressing-room,’ he says. ‘Anyway women should be obscene and not heard.’ ‘Switch it on now,’ says Paul conducting the interview for the bewildered girls. ‘What’s your name?’ he asks Ringo. ‘John’, says Ringo. He then asks the girls their names. ‘How did you like Germany when you were there?’ asks the girl whose name is Eileen. ‘We liked it fine,’ says Paul. ‘It was hard work,’ says Ringo. ‘Yeah’, says George. All during the interview they sign autograph books that had been sent to their dressing-room, and when they aren’t actually answering a question they read letters from fans. The girls walk over to John. ‘How do you write the songs ?’ says the girl whose name is Daphne. John doesn’t answer. Paul shouts across the room in a voice you use to an errant child, ‘Tell us about the songs, John, tell us about the songs.’ ‘Sometimes we write them together’, says John. ‘Sometimes not. Some of them take four hours; some twenty minutes. Others have been known to take as long as three weeks.’ ‘What’s your favourite song that you’ve written?’ ‘I think “Glad All Over”,’ says Paul, opening his eyes even wider. ‘No, I’m kidding. I think at the moment it’s our new record “I want to hold your hand”. Is that all right ?’ ‘Yes, that’s fine,’ says Eileen. ‘Thank you very much indeed.’ ‘Oh dear,’ says Daphne. ‘It doesn’t seem to have been recording. Sorry about that.’ <…> Inside, the compere is asking: ‘Do you want to see John?’ (Screams.) ‘George?’ (Screams.) ‘Paul?’ (Screams.) ‘Ringo?’ (Pandemonium.) They appear, and all during their act a man in a dinner jacket stands in front of the stage looking bewildered. The girls wave, hold up pictures, and scream. <…> Paul runs off stage shouting, ‘Oh my God, my ulcer. Nell, do you have a ciggy?’ Aspinall alternately hands him a cigarette and leads him toward the stage door where their car is waiting to take them to the hotel. <…>

The Beatles are in their hotel bedrooms finishing their dinners. George feels tired and goes to sleep. John, wearing a T-shirt and an old pair of trousers, wanders down the hallway past the guard, into the room shared by Paul and Ringo. The table filled with the empty dinner dishes is at the foot of Ringo’s bed. Ringo, dressed in pyjamas, is sitting up in bed. Paul, also in pyjamas, is talking about a film, The Trial, which he has just seen in London. He is describing a scene in which there is a misunderstanding about a word, when the telephone rings. ‘Hello, helloho,’ says Paul in a falsetto and then, realizing it is a friend, says Hello seriously. <…> ‘What I liked best in The Trial’, he says, ‘was when they walked quietly through the concentration camp. It was so dead quiet, just like another world and Elsa Martinelli in the background just necking like mad.’ <…> ‘Uh, I need another drink, baby,’ says John. Paul goes to the phone. ‘Hello? Yeah, send us six single Scotches - No, make it doubles, yeah, doubles.’ <…> They started discussing the feelings of adults towards pop music. ‘We’re definitely fighting a prejudice,’ says John. ‘That’s why I’m interested in John getting his book out,’ says Paul. ‘I mean, I haven’t got a cut or anything. It’s just that one of us would be doing something to make people notice. I mean, it’s the same as if one of us wrote a musical. People would get rid of their prejudice and stop thinking that pop people can only sing or go into a dance routine.’ <…> ‘You remember after that big spate of publicity we got in the national papers,’ says John, ‘which was uncalled for by our office. We were news at the time, and it only just happened we clicked in fourteen editors’ minds at the same time. One day Paul was ill and I believe one of the papers wanted a picture of him. Nell told them they couldn’t have it, and the photographer said: “You mean, after all the publicity we gave them – we made them.” I’d like to meet this fella who said it.’ Paul explained that they never talk to the teenage magazines. ‘They just make it up. I think they prefer it that way…’

(Love Me Do. The Beatles Progress by Michael Braun, 1963/1995)

(Also about Paul's flue)

[darlingshane]

new chapter

Joe Teague x F!Reader

Summary: On his wedding night, before he gets to spend some time alone with you, Joe listens to the conversation you're having with your daughter as you tuck her in. The little girl has some interesting questions regarding him and his new role in her life that you're happy to answer to put her at ease.

CW: +18, explicit, smut, oral sex (f. recieving), p in v sex, fluff, wedding night, pregnancy, dancing, established relationship, mention of past abuse, mention of divorce, set in the late 40s.

Word Count: 2,3k

— Links: AO3 // Joe Masterlist

Joe takes one final look around the first floor to make sure all doors and windows are locked before heading upstairs. The kitchen is a cluttered mess of dirty dishes piling in the sink from the casual reception you hosted right at the brand-new house. Dishes can wait till tomorrow. It's been a big day worthy of celebration and while it's sad to see it come to an end, he can't wait to see what this new chapter in his life with you brings him.

He's excited to see what the future holds, what these walls would tell ten or twenty years from now. This is where he's putting his roots, and he's betting everything on it that there won't be no bail this time. You are it for him. There's no doubt in his heart.

Though it’s neither his nor your first marriage, it feels just like it. The experience is completely different, given that both of you come with your own baggage; and kids in your case from your first marriage. You chose to have a simple ceremony at the courthouse, followed by a small reception at the house, and it couldn't have gone better. He can't get over how beautiful everything was. He knew you were special from the moment he met you, but the sense of pride and love he's felt today comes second to none. Not only did you look stunning in the custom dress you made yourself, but the way you've handled every little detail is something to admire.

He still has part of his uniform on when he steps into the hallway of the second floor to see you tuck Grace, your six-year-old, into bed. He leans on the door frame, listening to your voices through the cracked door.

“Mama, you look like a princess today,” she says as you pull the sheet over her body, folding it carefully at the hem as the little girl gets comfortable on her pillow. Just like Joe, you're still wearing your wedding dress with no shoes on.

“Thanks, baby. Did you have fun today?”

“Yeah, I wish you’d marry every day.”

“Every day? That’d be a lot of work with that many husbands.” She breaks into laughter along with you. “What was your favorite part?”

“The cake.”

“It was a great cake.” You agree, pushing a strand of hair off her face.

“Will you make me a dress like yours for my wedding day?”

“Sure, but first I need to know who you're marrying.”

“Hm, I don't know yet.” The little girl shrugs, holding a stuffed teddy bear in her embrace. “Someone like Joe, I guess.”

“Yeah? You like Joe?”

“He's pretty funny.”

“Pretty funny looking, I'd say.” Joe watches you glance over your shoulder, smiling at him.

“Is he my dad now? Should I call him daddy?”

“Only if you want to.” You sweetly caress her face. “Do you want Joe to be your daddy?”

She nods. “What if he doesn't want to? Is he going to be mean to us like my other daddy was?”

It breaks your heart hearing her express it like that at such a short age. As much as you tried to protect her, she was still aware of how awful her father was to you both. You thought she had forgotten about him after he died a few years ago, cause she was still a toddler. It was hard to explain to her that he didn't come back from war, but somehow your little girl understood that your lives turned for the better the moment he was gone. And surprisingly, she’s never mentioned him until now.

“Baby, I promise you, Joe is a good man. He’d never hurt us like that. We wouldn’t be here otherwise. You might see us sometimes argue, but I give you my word that no matter what, Joe loves us more than your daddy ever did. He’s going to take care of us, and we’re going to take care of him, okay? We’re family now. It doesn’t matter if you call him daddy or not, he’s gonna love you the same.”

Grace hugs her teddy bear tight as you watch her pondering for a moment in silence.

“Do you wanna ask him or do you want me to do it?”

“You do it.” She sticks out her finger and boops your nose.

“Alright, I'll do it.” You turn your head again to nod at Joe, beckoning him to come closer.

He steps into the room and bends down by the bed, propping a knee on the floor and holding his forearm on your lap.

“Hey, Gracie Jo.”

“Hi,” she says shyly, even though she's usually pretty chatty around him. But this is a big ask, you're aware, and a big step for all of you. “Mommy wants to ask you something.”

“Oh?” he gazes at you with a smile on his face, very aware of what you’re going to ask. It’s something you’ve talked about before, but you didn’t want to force Grace into accepting Joe as her father before she was ready.

“Gracie and I were wondering if you’d like to be her daddy.”

He fondly looks at you and then turns to her to assure her there's nothing he'd love more.

“It'd be an honor to be your dad, sweetheart,” he promises, placing a kiss on her forehead.

It melts your heart to see them both beaming in delight. You have no doubts that Joe would be up for the task to fill that role in her life better than anyone. You and Grace would've been fine with or without him in your life, but you're glad you got the opportunity to meet him and fall in love with him like this.

You curl up with Grace until she falls asleep and then retire to your new room.

You've got the house for a week now, but with all the arrangements for the wedding and the hassle of moving, you haven't had a minute to stop to look at it as your new home until now. There's still work to do, but you're proud of what you've accomplished to make it feel safe and comfortable for your daughter. That's all you needed. You're exhausted, but it was all worth it at the end. Hopefully, you'll be able to slow down in the next few days while everything settles.

When you step out of Grace’s room, you leave the door slightly ajar. Next to it, by the staircase there's your workspace, and a bathroom on the other side. There’s an empty bedroom in front of hers that would soon be filled with baby furniture for the little guy growing in your belly. You haven't told Grace yet, she would have babbled to everyone at the party that she was having a baby brother or sister, which is something she's been asking for years. In a couple of days, you and Joe will tell her and you know already she'll be over the moon.

At the end of the hallway is yours and Joe's bedroom. There's only a light coming from a night lamp when you go inside. There's music playing on the radio while he waits for you, sitting on the chair by the window. He still looks as handsome as this morning, when you first saw him fully dressed in his uniform. Now, his shirt is half unbuttoned, his pants are creased, and the shoes are off.

“Thought you’d be in bed by now, Mr. Teague,” you say as he stands up to meet you in the middle.

“I was waiting for you, Mrs. Teague.” He picks up your hand and brings it up to his lips to print a kiss on your knuckles. “I didn’t get a chance to dance with my bride today, I was hoping we could do it now. Would you like that, sweetheart?”

“I’d love that.” Your lips form a smile as he spins you around in the middle of the room before securing an arm around your waist.

You place your palms on his chest, smoothing the fabric of his shirt across the breadth of his chest, locking eyes with him for a moment before pillowing your head on his shoulder.

Closely tucked in his embrace, you both start moving your feet to the slow cadence of the song playing on the radio.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to dance today. I wanted to do something small, I didn’t think that you’d—” you say softly before he cuts you off.

“Sweetheart, don’t apologize. It was perfect. I wanted something small, too. I told you I didn’t care for fanfare. I like it like this, just you and me.”

You lift your head to look at him. “You’re the sweetest man I’ve ever met. How did I get so lucky?”

“All it took was a robber. I’d like to thank him personally for bringing us together,” he quips.

That’s exactly how you met. The tailoring shop you work at got robbed about a year ago, and Joe was the lead detective on the case. It was a terrifying experience, but it gave you Joe, so you have to look at it as a blessing. After a couple of follow-up interviews, he started showing up casually around the neighborhood to check in the place here and there until the robber was caught red-handed again, trying to rob a jewelry shop a couple of blocks away. By that time, Joe didn’t have any more excuses to show up, so he started bringing some of his personal pieces of clothing to fix. First a jacket, then a couple of shirts, a pair of pants… Until one day he built up the courage to ask you out for a coffee. Before you realized it, you were falling madly in love with him. It was never in your cards to marry again, but Joe was the odds that changed your luck. He wasn’t only great to you as a boyfriend, but the way he treated your daughter played a major factor on that decision.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart? Is our little buddy behaving today?” He glances down at your still seemingly inconspicuous four-month bump hidden under the loose fitting of your dress.

“Hm, he’s been an angel. I haven’t been sick all day. Just a little tired.”

“Yeah? You’re ready to go to bed?”

“No. Not yet. When the song ends.”

You lock your arms tight around his neck as he lets his forehead touch yours before letting his lips crash with yours in a firm kiss that almost makes your legs crumble down to the floor. His arms anchor you in place as the sweet undoing of his kiss sends you somewhere closer to heaven.

As the melody fades, your bodies come alive against the other. The magnetic pull of your unwavering love guides your lips to fuse together in a hot frenzy of desire. It hurts so good, you can't help but moan in his mouth. When you grow breathless, you pull back and turn around so he can unzip your dress. You quickly shed every piece of clothing and undergarment to consummate your marriage for the first time as husband and wife. It helps that you've had sex many times before, otherwise you'd be ridden with anxiety. But everything has always been so easy with Joe, and this night is no different. He makes you feel desired in ways you've never experienced before. He evokes something so powerful inside, you can't speak coherently without tripping over your words. So you suffocate him with kisses and hold him for as long as you can.

As your lungs lose the ability to breathe properly, he places you down on the mattress. Your body buzzes with anticipation when he kneels at the foot of the bed. He climbs his way between your legs that he spreads open as far as they can stretch. He kisses the inside of your thigh from you knew up to your groin, making your skin rise into pimples all over. His lips make an urgent stop at your center to bury his tongue between your folds. The eagerness to taste you causes your legs to shake like an earthquake. His tongue collects the essence of your arousal as if he was a starving man. Your core wounds up in an impossible knot made of fire that is almost unbearable to contain. You have to cover your mouth to muffle the sinful sounds that come out of your lips.

“Joe, honey,” you pant, extending your hand to grip at his hair so he would climb on top of you. “I want you inside me.”

Following your request, he slithers up your body, nestling between your legs, letting you feel his hardness against your sex. He deliciously rubs himself on your folds before guiding his cock between your soaked lips.

One of his hands holds your jaw, while his forehead leans against yours. His hips slowly push inside you, capturing the warmness of your walls that contract gently around him every time your hips slant against his moves.

“God, I love you so much, sweetheart,” his voice comes out ragged as he ups the pace of his thrusting.

“Not as much as I love you.” You use your hands to press harder on his ass, so you can feel every inch of him filling you up to the hilt.

Joe presses his mouth open against yours, seizing your breath as he takes you to the final line where your orgasm comes crashing against his own. They merge together for a second, surrounding both of you in a cloud of elation that rushes through the tangled mess of your bodies like thunder. Your legs tremble as the flutter of your opening squeezes every drop out of his seed.

— Credits: beautiful divider by @cafekitsune

[jrkyy]

Hello! I Love your young Howard designs (especially his Prince Charming hair) and his vibes. Do you have any headcanons or backstory for him that you can share? Thank youu <3

Dont call him prince charming, you’re feeding his fragile ego with that

As the matter of fact I do! I just keep it to myself most of the time out of shyness. Honestly idk where to begin, I have them scattered on my notes so here’s just a few of them

Before I go to his childhood, I want to establish that his parents were from a new money background and his father is new to biglaw. He wanted to blend in with the old money crowd so he started to mimic how they dress, act, etc. (And yes I do think he would pour this onto his son)

His mother on the other hand is a hairdresser. Unlike george, she doesnt want to dress like his “rich friends”. I havent thought much about her relationship with Howard yet but she mostly acts like the second voice of reason after Chuck (though Mr. Mcgill does that better than her)

I do think that George’s attempt to larp as those upper men is an attempt to get approval from them (that theme runs in the family I guess…)

So for me it really just connects the dots on how Howie’s financial background reflects the things he spent on (ex: gucci loafers, jaguar car, his tuscan style mansion)

When it comes fo his childhood, his parents werent really that stern to him (apart from what would he be in the future). They're the type of parents who would let their kid do anything they want, as long as they would end up being what the parents want. It would bite them both back though (especially george). George would definitely call young Howard selfish or ungrateful, when its his doing in the first place

This is based from one of patrick’s interview, but he was probably very an awkward kid back then. Probably due to him being an only child (or undiagnosed autism), but he struggles a lot on making connections so he would mirror other people’s action or read those “how-to-make-friends 101” books. He knows the right thing to say but he didnt say all that with his heart

A lot of his problems with his father just stems from disconnection. George wanted the very best for his son, but what he thinks that its best is just his tunnel vision of a dream. Whereas Howard just wants to be close to him but each time he does that, George would always do something that absolutely pisses him off so its back to square one

As for his mullet-thing??? Its an attempt to distance himself from his father. He’s scared that people would say he’s similar to George, so he styled it like his mom

Sorry, this is getting too long so I’ll stop here lol but I do have more to spew out

[cioud-berries]

Mutual Benefit || Chapter 2

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Summery:

Posts season 2: Spoiler warning!! Being forced into an arranged marriage, [Name] tried her hardest with her unreceptive husband Salo. After his death, she was forced to replace his council position, trying to figure out who she was as a person. Sevika never expected to get anywhere close to the council, let alone join them. As the stigma around people from Zaun still stood, she struggled to gain the respect from her new fellow councillors. With so many differences how could the two really help one another?

Chapter Warnings:

Season 2 Spoilers

Word count: 1,982

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[Name] was thrilled to learn that at least one of her council members was from Zaun. She was relieved that they were getting the reputation that they so desperately needed in the council. Even though that part excited her, nothing else about the first meeting did. She was terrified about how this would go. 

Caitlyn Kiramman helped her prepare everything that she would need for the first meeting, even going into her mother’s files to find talking points and issues. The night before the scheduled meeting, [Name] Stayed up all night studying her notes, making sure there wasn’t anything she could mess up on. 

She praised the Gods for the invention of coffee as she rushed to the council room, her folder of notes and news articles tucked neatly under her arm as she tried to take the last sips of coffee. She was more awake than ever, knowing that it would only last a few hours before she crashed. 

Entering the room, everyone turned to look at her. Some gave disapproving looks, as she dressed in the clothing of her home nation, instead of something from the clan she was there representing. 

Brushing off their looks, she walked up to Shoola, the only council member from the old council, and the person [Name] knew best in the room. Hearing her footsteps approaching, Shoola turned around to her.

“It is good to see you.” Shoola greeted. “I am sorry for the death of your late husband Salo.”

[Name] in that moment, remembered that she was still supposed to be in mourning. Trying to come up with a response that would be acceptable for them, she replied. “Yes, my poor husband… At least we know that he is now resting peacefully. But that is why I am here, to carry on his legacy.”

Shoola gave an approving smile. “How is your daughter doing?” She asked.

“A lot better.” [Name] told truthfully “I don’t think she fully grasps the concept of death yet. But leaving the city for a while did seem to help. I think being back in the apartment is causing her to struggle a bit though.”

“If you need anything from me,” She put a hand on [Name]’s shoulder. “ Just ask.”

[Name] nodded, but before she could say anything, one of the other councilors raised his voice, getting everyone’s attention. “I think we should begin.”

Everyone in the room collectively made their way to the table in the middle. [Name] could tell that there were less people that there should be, quickly counting everyone. “Aren’t we missing someone? Shouldn’t we wait for them?” She asked the man who called everyone to the table.

A lot of the councilors gave a sour look at [Name] pointing it out. She immediately could tell that it was the representative from Zaun, as that was the same face Salo would give any time she’d vouched for them.

“She is late.” The man that called the meeting stated "That is her problem.”

“I don’t even know why we’re giving them this chance.” The old woman spat out. “No one from the undercity had a seat on the council before. They’re all just-”

[Name] went to say something, but the door to the chamber opened. Everyone’s attention was drawn to the tall woman that walked into the room. Immediately she captivated [Name]’s eye. With her strong presence, [Name] knew that she wouldn’t let any of these other council members to trample over her. 

The woman slowly sat down in the chair next to [Name]. Most of the councilors were glaring at her for numerous reasons of their own. [Name] only gave her a soft welcoming smile that was met with a cold glare. 

As the woman sat down, the man continued on with the meeting. “Our first order of business is the removal of the hex core remnants. The substance that was left on buildings is tough and it will be expensive to remove.”

“Will you also be removing the stuff in the fringes that the guy left behind?” The woman beside [Name] asked. 

“No.” The old woman spat out. It was clear that her and the man had discussed this in private before coming to the meeting. “We’re removing it from Piltover to keep it from destroying buildings, and as far as I am aware,it was far from the city and it was providing more homes for free.”

[Name] saw the opportunity to jump into the conversation. “Well we don’t know what it can do. Isn’t the whole point of removing it because we don’t know what it can do? It is most likely toxic. So I believe it would be best to remove it from the undercity now so it doesn’t cause us issues and cost more money to remove or fix in the future.” She made sure to make an emphasis on how much money it could cost them, knowing that they cared more about money than anything else.

Against their will, many of them silently agreed, knowing that now they had to pretend to care about Zaun and Zaun’s problem. The man hosting the meeting began to speak again. “I say we use ten percent of our current budget to remove the hex core remnants in both Piltover and the undercity. All in favor raise your hand.”

Five out of the seven council members raised their hand to vote for the use of the budget. The old woman is one of the people who voted against it. [Name] could already tell that she did not want to work with the people of Zaun and merely wanted to rule over them to her benefit. 

It reminded her of her grandmother, and the whole reason that led to the civil war. Thankfully with Piltover, it wasn’t one person making all of the decisions without anyone to speak up to stop such things. 

The man wrote down the verdict on the piece of paper turning back to the council. “Is there anything else anyone would like to discuss?” He opened the floor to new topics. 

Other council members took to the floor, discussing topics that in the end would benefit them and their topics. [Name] searched through her notes, trying to get a proper idea of how she wanted to discuss her topic. 

Once the others went quiet, she finally spoke up. “I would like to discuss the toxic fumes that are currently leaking into the undercity.” She began, everyone looked at her attentively, even if some of the looks were disapproving at the mere fact she brought up the undercity. “Commander Kiramman led a search into the undercity with the goal of finding and capturing Jinx. While this search turned up empty handed, Kiramman used the ventilation system, causing a lot of toxic fumes to enter the city. At one point, Jinx blew up one of the blockage points. I would like for us to block it up sooner rather than later.” 

She turned to the woman next to her, assuming that she would agree since it is her territory. The woman only gave her a weird glare. [Name] could not read her expression, not knowing if she agreed with this or not. 

“We would be doing that with what materials again?” Another council member replied snobbily.

“That brings me to another point.” [Name] flipped through her notes to find the right point. “I believe that we should tear down the Hex Gate.” Some of the council members gasped out of surprise. They got so comfortable with hex tech that they almost forgot it no longer exists. “It is useless now, with the Hex Tech being unusable. But the tower was created with valuable materials that can be used for both Piltover and the Undercity.” 

The council room went silent as she waited for a response. After some time and consideration the man leading the meeting finally spoke up. “We will need a more detailed plan from you by our next meeting. We shall vote on it then.” He wrote a few notes down on the paper. “If no one else has anything to say, I will adjourn this meeting.” Everyone was quiet, confirming the end of the meeting. 

Everyone slowly got out of their chair, walking around and talking to each other about things unrelenting to the meeting. The woman from Zaun made a swift exit, not caring for any small talk with these people. 

[Name] quickly and soppily threw her files into the folders, holding them close to her chest she ran after the woman. “Excuse me!” She called out to the woman. “I never got your name.” 

The woman stopped, turning around to see who was calling after her. Her scowl stayed on her face as [Name] caught up. It was very clear she didn’t like being there and was trying to get out as quickly as possible. 

“Sevika.” She grunted out. 

She was about to turn around and walk away but [Name] continued talking, now that she had stopped her. “I was wondering if we could sit down and discuss what to do with the materials from the Hex Gate.” [Name] began to sort through her papers, trying to find the vague plan she wrote up in the middle of the night. “Personally, I was hoping to use those resources to help Zaun rebuild and expand. But I honestly know nothing about down there and knew that with your help and approval, I could build a stronger case.” She handed Sevika the papers.

She raised an eyebrow at [Name], merely glancing down at the papers. “You really think that they would vote for such a plan?”

“I mean yeah.” [Name]’s confidence faltered. “It’s all about playing the game right.”

“The game?” Sevika questioned handing the papers back, not interested in this plan.

“Yeah, you know.” [Name] slinked down. She wasn’t expecting to receive any push back from Sevika, since this plan purely benefited her and the people she was representing. “Creating a plan that benefits you, or whatever you want, but making it sound like it is benefiting everyone in the council. Everyone is there for their own reason, just like you and I. You just have to find a way to make it sound like you’re catering to those reasons.”

“So how does this plan of yours benefit you?” Sevika shook her hand that held the papers, saying she did not want them anymore and was not interested in looking over them.

[Name] grabbed the papers from her. Sevika began to walk down the halls. [Name] followed alongside her. “Well it mainly would benefit the people you are representing. But I was hoping that it would strengthen the bonds between Piltover and Zaun, meaning you and the rest of the council. Which would make things so much easier.”

Sevika stopped in her tracks, turning to [Name]. “Listen princess-” 

[Name] quickly cut her off, not liking being called that “You don’t have to call me by my official title. [Name] is just fine.”

Sevika raised an eyebrow to her, not understanding her words. Yet she continued, “I could care less about your politics or your hopes. I was only put in this position because there was no one else.” Sevika turned back around, walking down the hall, leaving [Name] behind.

[Name] wanted nothing more than her cooperation and was trying to find a way to have another talk with her. “There will be a party this weekend!” She shouted after Sevika as she continued to stomp away. “I don’t know if you were invited, but I’m inviting you. It would be nice to see you there.” 

Sevika rounded the corner, out of [Name]’s sight. [Name] deeply, turning back around to head to her office. She knew she had a whole lot of work and research to do, now that she would be completely on her own.

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[daughterofscotland]

Decisions and Bubble Baths

After months and months I finally managed to write a little snippet of a BuckTommy fix it fic recently... and today I finished it at almost 2k.

Go me! AO3 Link: Decisions and Bubble Baths

Pairing: BuckTommy

Tags: Light NON-SEXUAL BDSM, hopeful ending

Summary: After their break up, both Buck and Tommy realize that their dynamic outside of the bedroom has some long-term consequences. Eddie realizes they need some help to fix it.

***

Buck didn't know what to wear. He was supposed to get dressed for a dinner with the team - not like their old cook outs, since Bobby and Athena still hadn't found a new place (or build a new one, he wasn't sure), but at a restaurant. Eddie was going to pick him up, saying he didn't want to drink anyway, and Buck... Buck didn't know what to wear.

***

It's not like they had planned it, this dynamic between them. But on their sixth date Buck couldn't decide what to wear, almost making them late, and Tommy had confidently grabbed a pair of jeans, a shirt, and over-shirt, handed it to Buck, and said. "You're going to wear these." Buck hadn't argued, his head suddenly silent, as the decision was taken from him, and gotten dressed. They hadn't talked about it. But then it happened again, when Buck couldn't decide on what to order at a new ice cream shop. Tommy had simply turned to the girl behind the counter, ordered for them both, and Buck hadn't argued. And it happened again in the grocery store, when Buck couldn't decide on a wine. Then they talked about it. Tommy insisted on research (Buck might have had to blow him about it) about clear communication and boundaries. They had already played around in bed, had discovered early on that their kinks matched well. But "daddy" and "baby boy" were for sex. Neither of them wanted to move it out of the bedroom.

So Tommy became "sir" whenever Buck needed help to make a decision. A firm, grounding hand on his neck when he spiraled or got so excited about whatever he was talking about, he became faster and faster and couldn't stop himself. Buck was "sweetheart" whenever Tommy needed calm, needed to be worshiped, needed to be treated like he was precious. Buck always wanted Tommy to feel that way, but Tommy had trouble allowing himself the comfort. At some point, Tommy had created a virtual wardrobe for Buck, with clothes made from his actual wardrobe, for days he wasn't on shift. He planned outfits a month in advance, so Buck wouldn't be paralyzed by a decision while Tommy wasn't there. In return, Buck had put at least one moment of "treatment" a week into Tommy's calendar: a bubble bath, a massage, a special meal. It worked for them and made them happy.

But now it had been a month since Tommy had walked out of Buck's life, with no word since. He'd spent a month baking to try to not think about Tommy, to keep from calling him, had ignored the way he'd started to get jittery and always felt cold and restless, how he kept looking to his side to share a joke or a fact he learned, just to find the space next to him empty. And now the virtual wardrobe was empty. Buck had used the last pre-coordinated clothes and now he sat before his actual wardrobe, unable to choose a simple outfit.

This was how Eddie found him.

Eddie didn't know what kind of dynamic Buck and Tommy had going on - neither did he want to - but he knew there was something. Buck was... calmer. More thoughtful, less impulsive. He still talked a lot, but when they were out together, Eddie saw the way Tommy put his hand on Buck's neck when he got lost in his spirals, how he squeezed, and calmed Buck down that way. The first time Hen noticed Buck's clothing style had changed and Buck blushed and said "Tommy picked it out for me", Eddie knew he didn't just mean something like Tommy buying him clothes.

So after the breakup, when nothing changed too much - except the excessive baking - Eddie thought: Okay, it's fine, he'll be alright. Should he have played keep-away with his phone with Hen? Probably not. But he also didn't want Buck to get hurt again, and he thought not contacting Tommy would make it easier for him. But then something changed. Buck became more restless. A bit more unkempt. He kept looking to the side when he was talking and then he just trailed off, looking lost. It was like he was always somehow out of sync with himself. And then there was Tommy. Eddie messaged him after the break up, telling him he was an idiot, but he would still be Eddie's friend and better show up to their next basketball game. Eddie didn't mention the break up then. They didn't talk about Buck at all, actually. He noticed Tommy looked like he didn't sleep well, of course, and he didn't talk much - but Tommy was always a bit more quiet, so it wasn't too much of a change. But the few times Eddie visited him to work on the car, he noticed the garage getting kind of... cluttered. Dirty. And that was certainly unusual. So was Tommy shying away from every touch, and looking increasingly tense. And now here Buck was, sitting on his bed, staring at his wardrobe, a lost look in his eyes. Unable to choose clothing for himself.

Clearly, Eddie had underestimated something about their dynamic, and it needed to be fixed. He went to the balcony and even shut the door for good measure, before he called Tommy. Not that he expected Buck to hear anything from him even if he were to stand right next to him, but still.

"'lo?" "Shit, man, were you asleep? Sorry, I didn't think you'd be on shift." "No, no, it's fine," came Tommy's voice, gravely, and accompanied by a yawn. "I wasn't... just taking a nap..." "Okay, good, because this is important, and I need you to be awake." "What? What's going on?" Tommy sounded more alert immediately. "Look, man, I don't know what kind of stuff you and Buck got up to, but clearly your breakup has some long-lasting ramifications." Eddie listened to the way Tommy's breathing sped up, clearly worried if not panicked. "We're supposed to go to a restaurant with the team but he's up there, in his loft, almost catatonic, because he doesn't know what to wear. He literally can't choose his own clothes, man. How the fuck did that happen?" There was silence on the other end and Eddie felt himself getting angry. "I swear to god, Tommy, if you hang up on me -" "I am not," Tommy assured him, a slight wobble in his voice. "I'm not... I... god, I fucked up so badly." "Yeah, well, we all know that, mostly due to the pounds we have put on eating all of Buck's "I am not allowed to call him so I am baking" loaves. I know you aren't doing any better, either. So, whatever reason you had to break up, fine, you figure that out on your own time. But clearly this is about more than just your romantic relationship." "Yeah... yeah it's... it is," Tommy agreed, swallowing hard. "I don't... okay. I can... I think I can help, but you'll need to give Ev- Buck the phone, alright?" "Don't call him that, Tommy," Eddie said quietly. "I am pretty sure that makes it worse." "Yeah. Yeah, okay." "I'll put you on speaker and next to him on the bed. Then I will go back outside to the balcony, so give me a minute before you do whatever you want to do. I don't want to hear it."

***

"Evan? Evan, can you hear me?" Tommy. That was Tommy's voice, sounding tinny and far away. Buck blinked and looked around, his eyes falling on the phone next to him. "Tommy?" he asked, coughed and cleared his throat. Picking up the phone, he tried again. "Tommy?" "Not quite. Eddie told me you need some help?" And just like that, something in Buck calmed down. But at the same time he could feel his eyes starting to hurt from unshed tears. "I... Sir. Please. I, I don't... what do I wear?" There was a sharp intake of breath from the other end of the line but Tommy's voice was completely calm as he answered. "That's okay, Evan. I'll help you. Where are you going tonight?" Buck thought for a moment. "Uhm, a restaurant, with the team. Mongolian, I think." "Okay, that's good, Evan. Do you have those dark-washed jeans you bought in Anaheim?" Buck looked around and found them on the ground in front of his clothes. "Yeah, I do." "Alright. Those, with that royal blue shirt you bought two months ago. It's probably gonna be warm at the restaurant, so no need for an over-shirt, but wear your black jacket for the trip. And the black boots. Okay?" "Yeah. Yes, sir. I got it. Thank you." Buck was already getting dressed, having put the phone on the bed again. "Of course, I am glad I could help, Evan."

Buck swallowed. He... he was glad Tommy didn't call him Buck again, but his voice still sounded off. Not quite like himself. Buck took a deep breath. He never had switched this fast, but he needed to do this right now. "You really did help," he assured the other man. "But what about you? Do you need help, too, Tommy?" There was silence on the other end and Buck worried he had gone too far, that Tommy had hung up. But then there was a slightly wobbly sounding breath, a cracked voice answering him. "I... yes, I... I think I do, sweetheart." "Okay, Tommy," Buck said, sitting back down and putting the phone to his ear. "That's okay. Do you... do you still have my key?" "Yeah. Yes, I do. Sorry, I wanted to give it to Eddie, but I just couldn't -" "Hey, hey, don't worry about that, it's okay," Buck assured him. Tommy sounded a bit frantic, definitely not as calm as he'd been before. He was just as lost as Buck had been. "Why don't you come over here, hm? I still have those bath salts you like, and your bubble bath. Come here, take a nice long bath, and then take a nap in my bed until I come back. Okay? I won't be out too long. Or, if you want, I will stay home and wait for you." Another silence that was broken by an almost sob. "No, you... you go. Enjoy your dinner. I'll... I'll do what you said, sweetheart." "Yeah?" Buck asked, a small smile on his face. "You will be here when I come home, Tommy? And I can see what else you need?" "Yes, I will," Tommy assured him, his voice more steady now. "You won't be long?" "Three hours, tops," Buck promised him, already mapping the route in his head, how much time he would have to eat before he had to leave the restaurant again. "You'll be okay, baby." "Yeah. You, too, sweetheart. I promise."

Buck swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment. This wasn't a solution, just a temporary band-aid for both their pain. They would have to talk, really talk, to see where to go from here. But for now, he hung up the phone, shoved all his clothes in the closet, and went downstairs to prepare a few cookies and a piece of lemon loaf on a covered plate, with a glass of water, putting it in his bathroom for Tommy to enjoy during his bath. Eddie didn't interrupt him and only squeezed his shoulder once before they left, Buck leaving the light on before locking the door behind himself, so Tommy would be reminded that he was expected. That he was wanted. It would have to be enough for now.

[galaxy-fleur]

what do you think leon would be with his s/o when they are in celebrating their wedding anniversarry, slow-dancing alone?

I really think it would be something intimate and quiet, especially if we're talking about Leon in his thirties/forties. His younger self could go out of his way to spoil his s/o with something grandiose to make them feel appreciated (and probably also to make up for his inevitable time away from them), but the older he gets, the more down to earth his gestures of affections are. Doesn't mean it'll be any less sweet or genuine on his part, he just grows to be more comfortable in his own skin and feels no need to try and impress the one he loves. It's less so about wowing them, and more about appreciating what they have together, if it makes sense.

He'll either take you out on a good old classy dinner date (all the best for his beloved, of course!), or, if you are a more private person, he'll prepare a romantic dinner at home instead. No takeout included! Everything is homemade and made with love. Or so he says with a cheeky wink. He will even dress up for you in a fitted suit and light a few candles to really play up the romantic mood. Even though his jacket isn't buttoned up and his button-up shirt is unfastened at the collar. In any case, he looks amazing. If anything, he looks even better all relaxed and comfortable instead of making himself look pristine and without flaw.

And those glimpses of skin at his throat and collarbone are definitely nothing for you to complain about.

I do also think he'd get sappy on your anniversary, really. If there's any day to pull out the waterworks, it's this one. He never thought he'd have something like this. Someone to call his other half, a partner, and his rock all the same. It's a good day to remind you just how thankful he is for your heart. He may be a major goof with you at times, but he can be tender and open with his affections for you in a very vulnerable way, too. Your anniversary is one of those occasions.

It'll be a day filled with lighthearted laughter and fragile intimacy all the same.

You're right on the dancing part, anon, I do think he's the type to put on the same song you two danced to on your wedding day. It won't be the same practiced, graceful dance you two shared back then, but the simple intimacy of sharing a lazy dance in the middle of your kitchen is perfect in its own right.

Overall, I just think he'd make your anniversary about you both. Talking about all the times you shared, reminiscing on the days gone by, sharing your plans for the future, be it something small like you wanting to buy a new kettle, or picturing a retired life together. A hearty meal and a glass of whine are just a very pleasant bonus.

[camillomea]

Child of crime alley episode 7:camera records

helluuuu. here is the new episode. thank you for your support with comments. please state your thoughts in the comments. enjoy reading -cami

Jason had returned to the cave after dropping Tim off at the cafe. There was no one there at this hour. He went to the main computer. He sent a message to Barbara

j- Hey Barbara, I have a favor to ask you. Of course, if you are not awake, I will write to you tomorrow

I-I am awake. But I will sleep. What happened at this hour?

j- About Tim

There was no answer but his phone started to ring. It was Barbara. She answered. Jason said “Hey I can ask you later”. He said to Barbara “I am awake, talk”. Jason asked “Do you know where he lives?” Barbara asked “I have no idea. Why are you trying to find him?” Jason said “I am not trying to find him, I already found the area where he lives. He lives in the Alley”. Barbara said “WHAT��� in shock. Jason said “Yes. I met him in the evening”. Barbara asked “Did you find out exactly where he lives?” Jason remained silent. Barbara said “Jason”. Jason said “I don’t think he lives anywhere”. He asked Barbara “What”. Jason said “I’m having one of my men investigate but I think he’s homeless.” There was a boom from the other end. Jason said “Barbara.” Barbara said “Please tell me you’re exaggerating or lying.” Jason said “I’m sorry Babs but I don’t think it’s an exaggeration.” He cursed Barbara “Okay what can I do for you?” he said after taking deep breaths to calm himself down for a while. Jason said “I want to access the old camera footage of the cave. I want to know what the hell is going on.” Barbara said “Okay I’ll give you access.” Jason said “Thanks” and turned on the computer. Barbara said “But I want to know every detail.” Jason said “Okay.” They started investigating. The two of them spent the next hours looking at the security footage. They went all the way back to the first footage, they had seen Bruce’s handling of Jason’s death, how crazy he was, how suicidal he was. Then they saw how Tim had dragged himself into this incident, how he became Robin. Jason had stopped the recordings when he first saw Tim. “It’s too small,” he said in a low voice. Barbara remained silent. Jason said, “Babs, how did you not notice this, he is so young,” in hushed tones. His eyes were glowing green. Barbara remained silent. Jason cursed angrily. He took a deep breath to calm himself, then continued to watch. Then, when he saw Tim training with Bruce, Jason was going crazy, he was going crazy. When it was finally over, Jason had to work really hard to calm himself. Every time Tim got hurt, he used the infirmary after every training session to take care of his own wounds, and he had to dress his own wounds, over and over again. Barbara couldn’t say a word either. Jason tried to calm himself for a while, and then he calmed down and said, “Babs, do me a favor and reach Cass, she’s been in town for a while, hasn’t she? Send these to her.” Barbara asked, “Okay, what are you going to do?” His tone was full of anger. Jason said, “I’m going to find Bird and take him to Dr. Leslie. I don’t think he’s even been to a doctor in years. I’m going to make sure everything is okay. Even though I want to beat Bruce to death right now, my priority is Bird,” he said. Barbara said, “Okay, let me know what the doctor says,” and hung up. Jasom got up and took out his phone

J-hey bird. Did you get off work, are you awake?

T- my shift just finished, I’m going to eat something and go to sleep. Why?

J- oh well

He wrote and paused. *How will I convince you? How will I convince you* he thought. Then *I’d better get straight to the point* he thought.

J- hey Timmy well… I’m going to see Dr. Leslie for a check-up. Would you like to come with me? You know Dr. Leslie likes to check all the bats regularly

T- I’ve never been there before

Jason slammed his fist on the table. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself down. then

J: but you should go, it’s very important for your health, Bird. How about I come get Semi. Then we'll go to Dr. Leslie's and have a nice meal when we get out of there

T-…

t- okay

Jason was relieved

J – okay then I'm coming there bird. See you

He wrote. There was a message from Barbara.

B- I told Dr. Leslie that you were coming. He'll pick you up right away

J- thank you Babs.

He wrote. He closed the screen, got on his motorcycle and left the cave

Notes:

rip bruce. he completly deserve it

[misteria247]

Fiddleford never in his life thought he'd ever get a chance to do something like this. Then again, there were a lot of things he didn't think he'd ever do, but somehow, he'd managed to experience them. All thanks to the woman standing next to him. The older man looked at her, the blonde who had changed his life. She was holding onto his arm, her flowing white dress clinging to her. A bouquet of flowers was in her grasp, and her hair was pinned up behind her veil. She looked beautiful, which made sense, giving it's her big day.

The day when she was officially becoming Mrs. Pines.

Fiddleford felt his chest get a bit tight with emotion. It felt like just yesterday he'd met her, the awkward, slightly mean 12 near 13 year old. When she'd been quiet and suspicious of the world and people around her. A girl who had decided to accompany him on one of his trips to the junkyard and, as a result, changed his life forever. At that moment, as he stared at the woman Pacifica Northwest-Mcgucket was, he recalled all the firsts he had with her.

He recalled the first time when she called him dad. A slip of the tongue, in a moment of peace and domestic calm. They'd been working on a project together, with Fidds focused on a piece of delicate weld work.

"Hey Paz, can you pass me that there tool?"

Fidds gestured towards said tool. Paz got up, making her way to it, grabbing it and bringing it back to him.

"Here you go dad."

She said, not thinking about it. Fiddleford about dropped the tool she just gave him, and Pacifica froze, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

"I....I mean-"

She scrambled, trying to save face. However, it wasn't necessary when she caught sight of the fond grin.

"Thank you hon. I appreciate it."

He said smoothly, not calling attention to it. Knowing how Pacifica could be. It was that decision that opened up the gates. Before he realized it, she was calling him dad all the time. The word sounding like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like it was meant to be. It wouldn't be until months later, when he was working on making her a pair of new welding gloves that the weight of the word finally hit him. That despite everything he'd done in his life and out of everyone in the world, Pacifica had chosen to call him dad. The tears that were shed that night were of ones of gratitude and happiness unlike anything he'd experienced in a very long time.

'She really did brighten up my world, this little lady.'

He thought fondly and affectionately as he recalled another first he'd had with her. The first time she'd come to him, crying and distraught and seeking him out. An argument, harsh and cruel, had happened between her and her biological father. Upsetting her so badly that she'd run away from her house. Heading straight to the manor where she knocked on his door. Startling him awake. When he'd opened the door, the sight of Pacifica being so broken and covered in tears had just about shattered his heart right there and then. He brought her inside, concerned and agitated to figure out a way to fix this. To bring back the confident, intelligent, sassy teen he was used to. He was broken out of his rushing thoughts by two small arms wrapping around him.

"Fidds...am.....am I a disgrace....?"

Pacifica asked, sounding so small and broken. The world seemed to stop as he processed her question, and with it, a burning fire of red hot rage piercing his chest. How dare that man make this girl feel like that? How dare he tear this bright, sharp, witty girl down because he couldn't control her? How dare he even have the nerve to call himself her father when all he did was hurt and crush her?

"Pacifica Northwest, you are not a disgrace. You wanna know what you are?"

The hick asked, not even waiting for her to respond before he continued. Fired up something fierce.

"You are talented. You are bright and smart and funny. You are kind and loving, and you bring so many people so much joy. You are loved, and you are wonderful just the way you are. And I couldn't be prouder to have you as a daughter."

Pacifica broke down at that, clinging to Fiddleford like a drowning person would with a life vest. And the inventor clung back just as tightly. Holding her together and protecting her from the world as she broke down. Finally letting out all the hurt and misery she'd kept inside for so long. When she was done, she'd spent the night sleeping in Fiddleford's bed while he took the small sofa. Watching her sleep, he vowed to protect this girl with everything he had. Because she was his now.

The older man returned to the present moment when he felt Pacifica grab his arm a bit.

"You alright honeybee?"

He asked her, his voice soft. He watched as she bit her bottom lip, nervous.

"What....what if Dipper gets tired of me dad?"

Paz asked, her voice shaking slightly. Fidds eyes went wide, understanding shining in them.

"Paz sweetheart, that boy is head over heels for you. If he was tired of you, we wouldn't be here right now. Remember when you first started dating? You thought the same thing back then."

The mechanic said as his daughter's flashed with recognition. For Fiddleford, it was still fresh in his mind that day. Another first, he noted that he once again shared with her. She'd been 16 at the time, and she and Dipper had finally became official. It'd been a long time coming if you asked anyone who knew the couple. Fidds had spotted it way back when they were young, when he would go to help out Stanford and Stanley with something, and Pacifica would tag along. It was so obvious that Dipper and Pacifica were smitten despite how young they were. So it was no big shocker to him when she'd come to him one day saying she liked the Pines boy. However, what did surprise him was when Pacifica came over one day, looking nervous and uneasy, and before he even greeted her had been met with.

"Dad, do.....do you think that Dipper really likes me? I know we're dating now, but what.....what if it's because of me being a Northwest? What....what if he doesn't actually like me?"

Fiddleford reeled, stunned. Did she not see the way he looked at her? Did she not notice the way Dipper always wanted to be by her side? Did she not have a clue that Dipper was so smitten with her that everyone and their grandmother could tell? Collecting his thoughts, he gave her a stern but fatherly look. Gently rubbing her upper arm to comfort her.

"Pacifica Northwest-Mcgucket. That boy is head over heels in love with you. You know, as well as I do, that Dipper Pines isn't the type of man to go after something unless he's absolutely sure about it. And I can promise you sugar bear, you ain't got nothing to worry about. Heck, I'd bet on my old banjo that it wouldn't be much of a stretch if one day he might marry you, I reckon."

The genius hick said serious and confident. Pacifica went red, embarrassed, but the sparkle was back in her gaze, and her confidence was no longer waning. And that was all that mattered to him.

"Oh good lord, I remember that conversation. You always look so smug still to this day being proven that you're right...."

Pacifica also said, recalling that day. The father, daughter duo, let out a few chuckles, feeling warm at the memory. Fidds gave his daughter's hand a squeeze, gaze soft and full of fatherly love and pride.

"And I still am right sugar cube. I rarely ever wrong."

Fiddleford watched as her own gaze softened, love and fondness shining bright. The once quiet insecurities now silenced by the reassurance of her father. The two were broken out of their moment by the sound of the tune of 'Here comes the bride'. He felt her shimmy a bit, her arm intertwined with his as she took a deep breath to prepare. Looking at her father once again, she gave him a small look.

"Well, how do I look dad?"

She asked.

"You look stunning hon. You ready?"

He asked smiling a bit wider.

"Yeah, I'm ready......promise you won't let go till we're up there dad?"

Paz asked. And in that moment she was once again 12, and he a younger old man, intertwined by the very stars.

"Promise darlin'."

With that sentence Pacifica Northwest-Mcgucket and her father Fiddleford Mcgucket finally took their first steps towards her future. Where the love of her life stood at the end waiting for her.

Fiddleford never expected to experience these moments. If you asked him way back when he was younger if he believed he'd ever experience fatherhood. He would have told you no. But if asked now....he'd smile the most bright smile, eyes twinkling with a light that wasn't there before and tell you yes. And he couldn't wait to experience even more firsts in this perfect future with the one girl who made it all worth while.

[lollytea]

I thought about Hunter making Willow a pair of garden overalls before and I like to imagine that he takes her old season 1 dress that she's outgrown and repurposes the material into something practical that she'll wear all the time. She might not be the same person she was but that person is still special to her and she carries the memory proudly <333

[hinamie]

u should think of tiny megu. To keep the stress at bay. You should draw him actually. Ooooo you wanna draw tiny megu getting the love he deserves so bad /j

he's with his 2 best friends

[vaguely-concerned]

walking through lucanis' mind prison. the tam lin of it all

[hikeyzz]

age gap kink go brrrr

[thetriangletattoo]

.

[sabziesart]

The Ramos Bros dressed as the Powerpuff Girls for Halloween

2023 vs 2019