#thanks to madame curator anyway

[hellsite-detective]

hey can you find me that one post about tony the tiger singing you're a mean one mister grinch and ends up with a nun having read a fanfic that @biggest-gaudiest-patronuses made about them. pretty plese. i need to read it for uh. scientific purposes.

i was bein' asked to find a specific post regardin' @biggest-gaudiest-patronuses's iconic Grony fanfiction bein' read by a nun. so, i went down to the Search Bar to ask Google for the phrase "nun fanfiction" comin' from gaud's blog specifically. they handed me the post i was lookin' for, but with some added bonuses. i filed the whole thing away.

here you are! i decided to throw in an extra bit where the fanfic was blessed by an actual priest! have a great day!

Post Case: Closed

[bad4amficideas]

heyyyyy are you willing to write some platonic hcs about the justice league interacting with reader of Earth 1T8? Anyways sending good vibes :D

I can make a try anon dearie!!! that's what this blog is about after all... platonic is difficult

Note: English is not my language, so I hope you will be understanding of any flaws you find.

BTW In Earth 1T8 the Justice League members are Superman, Wonder Woman, Aquaman, Flash, Green Lantern, Martian Manhunter, Zatanna? and Cyborg... I might put Zatanna, Constantine, Madame Xannadu, Deadman & maybe Enchantress and Dr. Fate? in JLD with Zatanna as mediator. And the only thing that differs from those in the other world is that they have never worked with Batman and that except for Wonder Woman, no one has investigated them.

BUT I'M WRITING ONLY THE live action MOVIE CHARAS ONES HERE 'CAUSE SO MUCH chara WRITING end me in a RIGMAROLE.

It would be difficult for most of them not to go platonic yandere for a furry WITHOUT powers who is dedicated to trying to save the world.

("Barry!" "no Barry! me, you get me, then, THEN" "I'm the young one with Internet symbiosis, do not argue" "I... don't think I want to know" "Aquaman the Platypus!!!"... "WTF")... edit: I actually like this idea lots, maybe abother universe made a cameo but i idk, cheetah or mustela-Flash, chamaleon MM...)

I think in cases like Superman and Wonder Woman, even Cyborg, it would be easier for you to meet them by their alter ego and in your normal form. An interview, donations to museums or Star laboratories or scholarships, etc.

Okay, here's one thing that has always confused me, unless Batman's cowl also has lead, and having Superman super senses and such. I mean, being a journalist with two fingers for a forehead, it shouldn't be easy -and by that I mean AUTOMATIC- to find out who the Bat is with a little x-ray??, even if it was accidentally ?? peripheral vision and stuff. The smell?? I could tell who has woken up in my house by how they go down the stairs??? Even if he doesn't connect the dots because doesn't want or refuse look at your face, it's seeing the broken bones in civil form, even without knowing about the famous Wayne.

And, lets says he gets an interview with you and sees that, well shit, actually, whether you have a good reputation or not, you are a good person he can see and hear it (but, wtf with these wounds)? You condemned yourself. And in addition to his normal job, he's suddenly the Daily Planet in charge of everything related to you and your alter ego. Literally every invitation to the most important newspapers, he always comes as the Daily Planet representative. AND NOBODY SAYS ANYTHING because half of the Daily Planet doesn't want to get into the gossips of a billionaire or the follies of a Bat in a fucking crazy city. And he just wants to see Y/N, not the Bat, not the Wayne, because each time whe gets a glimp of them it's like coming home from a long journey. And that's Clark Kent's excuse to start seeing you and befriending you to the point where you don't have time to go batcrazy doing it because, hey, you have Superman as a guest at home. AGAIN. But your whole family is conspiring with him, whether they know identities or not, and everyone is saying "sush, if they know you're normal, they won't let you do batbarities." And now Superman suddenly patrols like 1/2 America including Gotham but only by chance of course and thank goodness that the Batcave DOES have lead.

Our Bat, here manipulator-founder of the JLA, ofc would have managed be the one to get Wonder Woman/ Diana to go from being a curator of the Louvre to the Smithsonian (what better than an expert who has lived through it), and she would have ended up discovering Y/N Wayne and their alter ego Bat sooner or later from there, I mean, although she sees this situation as a gift to the world, how big the heart of Reader! (a baby!!)but she won't be anyone else's pawn again, so, why found the JL?? (apart from psychopaths trying to destroy the world ... and that) And well. How not to go yandere to such a good person? AND like a CRAZY one???? The madmen in your city are one thing because -almost- all are human and you're an overprepared normal human, but aliens, wizards? you should stay close to someone -her- who is up to beat those subjects. Uuuuuuhhhhh!!! she's momming on you dearie!!! at amazonian style if you're a girl ofc!!

Victor, Victor, Victor. Cyborg. You could have met him at one of the friendly competitions between Universities to which they always invite you because donating large amounts et all, or by his father and having donated to his laboratories. But also I think that for the madness that his father did, he would need extra funds, Reader would give them, and make suggestions having already dealt with Dr. Stone before and knowing how things were going to go for Cyborg. And sooner or later he would see that through some old camera recordings and so then he would have noticed you, a stranger who genuinely cared for him while -obviously- you scold his father for being a work freak.

Whoever, what a bitch he can be under the due circumstances, he will use everything you have -except your own body I guess- against you. And soon like, you are screwed, an open book to him. Good thing he's a mostly a broody gentleman. If, ironically, Cyborg's problem is that he could get lost in his technology, with you and your mania for monitoring everything (and, sorry to remind you, being monitored by everyone), you would give him the balance he needs between humanity and technology. Kinda a big sibling relationship.

Well, in a universe minimally similar to that of the movies, if you don't have something to do with helping Flash find the job he wants. YOU'RE A BAD READER!, DISHONOR IN YOU AND DISHONOR IN BATCOW! As a charitable soul, giving scholarships, encouraging improvements in the justice and health system not only in Gotham because I'm sorry to say this to you dearies but you USAmerican Health System is a BigShitTM, Barry already idolized your civil persona a bit. If he found out that you are Bat it could be playing forensic while expending energy running from end to end of the states and training. And that would seem mind-boggling to him and a dead end. He would be the stalker type with a bunch of pictures of you but, like Cyborg, he would know better than to approach you. Passing by Gotham when he hears that there are particularly rare/difficult cases.

Aquaman, this one it very difficult for me to see as platonic I confess. As if any of the above has sounded platonic at all. But I think he'd see you as a badass little sibling. But of those that while you threaten someone with a dagger he's behind you with a buster sword. At first he will be like: There is a human, a normal one, dressed as a bat, kicking butts in the middle of the night in a city overpopulated by weirdos?? Give me some popcorn. I'm gonna see it. That's Arthur. Afterward, well, anyone with a heart can only see a person fall and get up a specified number of times before they earn your reluctant respect, admiration, concern, and exasperation. And although Arthur tries to pretend that nothing matters to him, his heart is as big as his dominions.

He would approach you as Aquaman, because as the Bat is how he met you. Knowing your civil persona would amuse or irritate him because is so fucking fake (it's on you if your facade is flirt and sex with everything that moves, rich in drugs, tired parent, rich egocentric who donates to deduct taxes, rich stupid who believes that the world can turn rainbows with money and good intentions). And he would offer his help and ask for yours ("I know there are some oil dealers but no matter how much I clean up their shit if things on earth are not fixed, etc...") until between missions and such you would end up developing a dynamic of siblings. I don't think he realizes that maybe he's a slightly overprotective brother at times, because, like almost everyone except Superman, he lets you keep kicking butts (although he is by far the most relax with you doing that)

Now nobody of you is surprised that Earth 1T8 is better than the original world, or you are???? Hahahahaha.

[kassandras-one-braincell]

Kassandra x Fem!Reader - The Most Peculiar Wingman

Can be found on AO3 here.

Summary: You recently moved into a new flat and you’re hearing some rather unusual sounds from your next-door neighbour’s abode. You’re worried the mysterious woman next door is involved in something dangerous. Kassandra is worried that you’re the landlord about to bust her for her lease violation.

(Sorry if you don’t like coffee and/or you speak fluent Greek.)

Word count: 2568

.

Damn, you’ve lucked out with your new flat. The area is pleasant, the décor is tasteful – the windowsills could use a bit more greenery, but you’ll get to that – and the letting agent wasn’t a dick. Zero hassle with bills, minimal scuffs on the walls…it’s bizarre how simple your moving process has been.

But nothing can be perfect, can it?

Over the few days you’ve lived in your new home, you noticed some rather disconcerting sounds coming from the apartment next door. Nothing that disrupts your sleep, thankfully, although your post-unpacking nap was interrupted by a very loud thud against the thin wall connecting the two flats. Thumps, crashes and very disgruntled cursing in a language you can’t quite place tend to crop up in quick succession once or twice a day. Today, though, the odd sounds seem to be omnipresent.

The strange symphony is starting to get alarming; you’re beginning to ponder if the seemingly perpetually angry woman next door is involved in violence…or, forbid, organised crime? That would certainly explain the forceful thuds and grumbling. God, what if she manages to rope you into her shenanigans? What if she is armed?

After a loud bang and an exasperated “oh, fuck you” reverberates into your apartment, you decide to investigate.

Anxiously, you pop on some slippers and step into the hall, locking the door behind you (‘I’m not about to get robbed less than a week after moving,’ you think to yourself, ‘Oh, shit, I need to get insurance…’). Stomach churning with speculation, you make the arduous four-metre trek to your neighbour’s door. Biting your lip, you rap your knuckles against the wood.

A chorus of panicked shuffling echoes through the door, causing your throat to tighten. Footsteps sprint from one side of the room to the other, the sound of shattering ceramic shrill against the heavy thudding. “Shit, shit, shit, shit,” the woman hisses, muffled by the walls, followed by some shushing and the rattling of something metal. Who is this woman, what the fuck is she hiding, why am I doing this—

Suddenly, the door swings open, revealing…oh, wow.

Your neighbour is an amazon.

Flawless bronze skin, chocolate hair strewn into an unruly braid, tall and shredded with lean muscle. Her eyes are a gorgeous tawny brown, the split second of alarm disappearing from her gaze, replaced by a sparkle that makes your heart hammer against your chest. Very kissable lips upturn into a charming smile, bringing your attention to a small scar above her upper lip quirking adorably. A deeper scar sits on her nose, and the pang of anxiety returns, but your eyes need only flicker back to hers and it melts away.

“You’re not the landlord,” she says with a rich accent and curious lilt. Your cheeks feel warm.

“Uhm, hi.” You fiddle with your thumbs, mouth suddenly dry. “Sorry, I moved in a few days ago next door. I just heard some loud noises and was wondering if everything was alright?”

Lips curving furthermore, she braces her arms on the doorframe above and, fuck, are they nice arms. Sun-kissed, bulging against her white t-shirt, three gnarly rings cutting into her right bicep that just scream to be touched. Is this her distraction tactic?

“Oh, sorry about that. I hope I wasn’t too much of a disturbance?”

When you finally pry your eyes from her arms, a tiny smirk registers on her handsome face. Bashful, you stammer, “No, it’s fine. But, uh, what caused it, if I may ask?”

The woman cranes her neck to scan the hall. “Can you keep a secret?”

Mob boss? Arms dealer? Axe murderer?

Clearly, your nervous speculations are apparent, because her eyes widen slightly. “Don’t worry, lovely, it’s nothing dangerous. I just have a pet bird.”

Breathing a shaky sigh of relief, you run a hand through your hair. Just a bird. Just a bird. Her face relaxes back into a casual smile. A fresh wave of warmth caresses your cheeks at the name she gave you.

Chuckling, you joke, “Must be one big bird.”

“He’s…an eagle.”

You blink back your shock. “How on earth did you manage to get a pet eagle?”

She laughs, the melody warm and addictive. “Poor fucker followed me all the way from Kefalonia. I didn’t have it in me to say goodbye, even if it violates the lease.” Her tone is affectionate, despite her less-than-endearing name for the bird. Pushing back from the door frame – hands flexing wonderfully while she does so – she gestures for you to step in. “Come and meet him, if you’d like.”

Everything about this woman is so inviting, you can’t help but gravitate into her apartment.

“I don’t think I caught your name?” you ask shyly.

“Kassandra,” she replies, flipping the ‘r’ in her buttery accent. “And what can I call you?”

Anything you fucking want. “(Y/N) is fine,” you manage, debating whether her flat is hot or your face is akin to a beetroot.

“That’s a lovely name. Suits you perfectly,” she winks. She saunters over to a shelf with a blanket hastily thrown over it. You can’t help but observe her firm-looking behind through her jeans. Kassandra tugs away the blanket, revealing a large eagle sitting grumpily in a cage. It remains put when she unlocks the cage, standing almost defiantly.

“Don’t be like that, Ikaros,” she chastises. The eagle – Ikaros – begrudgingly flies out of his confines, perching atop the sofa in the middle of the open-plan room. “He’s gentle, I promise.” You’re doubtful, but he isn’t making any sudden moves.

“He just likes winding you up?”

“Loves it,” she grins. “He’s a little bitter I put him on a diet since he was getting a bit fat. That’s why he’s been throwing some tantrums lately.”

You smile as she scratches the top of his head before heading to the kitchen. “Can I get you anything to drink?” Kassandra asks, giving you another heart-melting beam. “I have coffee, orange juice, I might have some tea somewhere—”

“Coffee would be nice, thank you.” She asks your preference and you state it, taking in the layout of her apartment. The place gave off a very homely, Mediterranean vibe, with warm colours and white furnishings. A few hand-painted ceramic vases were dotted about – maybe she did pottery – alongside some family photographs. Atop the dining table was a woven basket brimming with ripe fruits, as well as a laptop with a pile of messy papers next to it.

“Have a seat, get comfy,” she calls over the whirring of an expensive looking coffee machine. Shyly you take the chair by the unoccupied end of the dining table. Feeling nosy, you scan the documents by her laptop, but the handwriting was all in Greek.

A minute later, Kassandra joins you with a steaming mug in her hand. “Your coffee, madame,” she announces with a pantomimic bow, evoking a laugh.

“Merci,” you thank her. “How would I say that in Greek?”

“Efharistó,” she replies. You test the word hesitantly, wincing on the second syllable, making her laugh. “Not bad,” she chuckles.

“I butchered it.”

“Try it a little softer,” she smiles, lowering her voice, giving it a sensual cadence that made your head spin. Oh, she knows she’s attractive.

“Efharistó,” you border on whisper, gay little brain surging with the overwhelming instinct to do whatever she tells you.

“There we go!” The proud quirk of her lips is all you need to see.

Feeling your cheeks flush, you bring the coffee mug to your lips, hoping the steam from the beverage will help mask your fluster. You blow on the liquid and take a sip, immediately regretting the decision as you scorch your tastebuds, repressing the urge to hiss in favour of looking cool for the hot Grecian.

“Do you, um,” you start, ignoring the numbness of your tongue, “work from home?” You wave your hand at the paperwork by her seat.

“As often as my job lets me.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a museum curator,” Kassandra beams, evidently proud of her job. “A glorified history nerd who couldn’t be fucked with the extra academia, basically.” You snort against the mug, nearly spluttering coffee over her. Smooth.

“What time in history?” Her eyes sparkle at the question, passion shining through her irises.

“Mostly the classics, ancient Greece and Rome and all that. But I did my thesis on the evolution of weaponry.” You prop your chin up on your hand as she talks, eyes lazily focused on her lips. If not for the conviction in her tone, you would have zoned out and chased some daydream about kissing those lips. Kassandra reclines back in her chair. “Enough about me, though. Tell me about yourself.”

“You sounded really passionate, though. I don’t mind if you keep talking about your job.” God, you sound like a dizzy schoolgirl who’s hot for teacher. You scald yourself with another sip of coffee in reprimanding.

Kassandra’s eyes twinkle. “I don’t usually invite beautiful women into my home to ramble about cool swords.” You blush and set down your coffee.

The two of you talk for quite some time, getting to know each other, peppering in the occasional flirtatious remark. In her company, you somehow simultaneously feel comfortable and skittish. She’s so relaxed and easy-going, but her physique and seductive demeanour fills your stomach with butterflies.

An irritated squawk cut your conversation short.

Kassandra shoots Ikaros a look before turning back to you. “Sorry about him.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine, really. Damn… What was I saying again?” you ask sheepishly.

Squawk.

“Nevermind, I was probably babbling anyway,” you dismiss, sipping on your now cold beverage.

Kassandra chuckles softly. “Don’t be silly, you have the voice of an angel. You could read me the dictionary and I’d still be interested.” She probably said this to every woman she took a liking to, but you can’t bring yourself to care, far too flustered and feeling, for once, special.

Squawk.

Her eye practically twitches in anger as Ikaros flies over to the windowsill, makes unwavering eye-contact with his owner, and shits on the wood.

Kassandra looks like she wants to be euthanised.

“My god,” she mutters as you burst out laughing. She awkwardly rubs the back of her neck and grimaces, mouth parted as if trying to form some kind of apology for her eagle’s behaviour.

“I’m guessing you’re used to being the only one doing the flustering?” you tease, trying to lighten the mood.

Her disgraced expression shifted back to a playful one. “If I say yes, do I sound like a whore?”

Grinning, you shake your head. “A little cocky, perhaps.”

“I’ll take cocky.” She winks and gets up. “Your coffee is probably cold, can I get you a fresh one?”

“Oh, no, thank you. I’m fine.”

“The finest,” she smirks.

“Real smooth,” you roll your eyes, smiling regardless.

Ikaros caws from the windowsill, as if mocking Kassandra’s advances. Once again, her effortless charm dissolves into a look of frustration. She grabs kitchen towels and a bottle of disinfectant from by the sink and walks over to the window, nudging the eagle so he’d move out of the way. “Maláka,” she groans, cleaning up the mess from the surface. “Μη μου το χαλάς αυτό,” she mutters to Ikaros, earning a confused look. Kassandra sighs. “Usually I wait until after the first date before introducing a beautiful lady to this little shit. That way people don’t immediately think I’m just a weird bird lesbian.”

Testing the waters, you remark, “I happen to quite fancy women with an affinity for animals.” You bite your lip and add, “And, well, you’re…very attractive.”

Smugly, Kassandra finishes disinfecting the windowsill and walks to the kitchen with a little more vigour, your compliment proving to be an ego boost.

Once again deprived of attention, Ikaros decides to flap over and join you at the table. Instinctively, you flinch as the large bird flies in your direction, but all he does is stare at you, trying to analyse the stranger in his home.

“Does – does he bite?” you ask, hesitantly standing up.

Kassandra discards the kitchen towel in the bin, washing her hands. “No, he’s very kind to everyone who isn’t me.” She flashes you a wicked grin. “I only bite when asked.”

Stammering, you choke on air, struggling to find a response. Ikaros gives her a disappointed look.

“Shit, too forward?”

You shake your head. “Not at all,” you blush. “I’ve just…never met anyone quite like you before.” Ikaros seemingly gives you a judgemental leer, and you swiftly find yourself adding, “I-in a good way, that is!”

“Oh?” Her brow is upturned, her interest piqued.

“It’s…exciting.” The eagle shuffles towards you and nuzzles your hand, apparently deciding you’re worthy of his affections. The dark feathers atop his head are surprisingly soft to touch. Smiling, you give his head a few pats, inhibitions to the wind when cute little coos vibrate from his throat. “I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“I think it’s adorable,” Kassandra says softly.

You look up. “Really?”

“Really.” She joins the two of you and plucks a damson from the fruit bowl, feeding it to Ikaros while you pet him. “You’re the loveliest person to have ever set foot in this building, that’s for sure.”

Ikaros cocks his head in agreement. His beady eyes meet yours, damson juice dribbling from his beak. Do it, he’s silently telling you.

Screw it, let’s shoot our shot.

You clear your throat, mustering up some courage. “Are you free next weekend?”

Kassandra beams amorously. “I was about to ask you the same thing,” she grins. “How does dinner sound?”

Fuck yes. “Really good,” you blurt out excitedly.

“There’s this great Persian restaurant a couple streets over. I’ll book us a table?”

You gasp, having seen the building on the drive when you were moving in. “The place with the garden and the pretty lights, right?”

“That’s the one.”

“Sounds amazing.” Red in the face and heart pounding, your eyes dart about the apartment, fearing that you’ll combust if you look at Kassandra any longer. They settle on Ikaros, who gently butts his head against your hand, almost like a fist-bump. “Well, uh, I have a home insurance company to ring up, so I should probably get going,” you stutter.

“I won’t keep you, then,” Kassandra says, a tinge of disappointment in her tone. Ikaros squawks sadly.

“Thank you for the coffee.”

“It was my pleasure. Thank you for staying,” she winks. The eagle coos in agreement. You give him one last pat before walking to the front door.

“Oh, before you leave, there is something you should know…” Kassandra calls, moving over to you. She delicately takes your hand, frying your brain, and leans down to your ear. You feel faint. Lowly, she whispers, “…Our Hermes guy likes to drop-kick our parcels.”

Snorting, you look up at her in disbelief. I mean, what was I expecting? A kiss? Get a grip, woman. Kassandra laughs at your expression. “Use the amazon locker down the road instead.”

“You’re amazing,” you murmur, grinning. “I’ll probably see you before next weekend, but bye, I guess?”

“Chaire,” she bids softly, opening the door for you.

When the door closes behind you, you let out a ragged breath, excitement coursing through your veins.

You are so glad you moved here.

.

( The Greek clause is meant to say "Don't blow this for me" but I used 5 different translators and all 5 came back with slightly different things and I sort of ip-dip-doo'd it and chose one at random...sorry. )

[hangon-silvergirl]

D (just something you wished for & you almost missed ), F, H, I, M, S?

Hi Ariana! Thanks for the ask. 😊

D: Is there a song or a playlist to associate with just something you wished for & you almost missed?

Yes! The chapter title is from a bonkers Christmas song by the New Kids on the Block called Funky, Funky Xmas. You can listen to it as part of the playlist @majicmarker and I are curating as the chapters are being posted.

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

One of my favorite dialogue scenes I've written is the library scene in Chapter 5 of Marigold. I'm proud of it because I think it does what I intended it to do; it's an inflection point in the story, and it's where it shifts into being a love story, a romance; a slow-burn over the course of what is, honestly, an affair. It's built largely on feelings, especially Chrissy's worry, but the way they talk to each other is fundamental. There are a lot of lines that I really like in that section, but I think that this is my favorite bit: The kiss lingers longer than it should given they’re technically in public and that these sorts of encounters should really be more clandestine considering the nature of the thing between them. Eddie alludes to as much when he pulls away, says, “We-- We should probably set, uh. Some ground rules? I don’t-- I’ve never had… Illicit… Uh, you know. Not in a recurring sense. What do we even… No, wait,” he grins. “Tell me, Chrissy Cunningham, what would you call what we’re doing? Hanky-Panky?” “Eddie,” Chrissy says, almost warningly, but genuinely she’s too amused and too well-kissed to really get indignant about his teasing. “Shush. As opposed to what, anyway? What would Eddie Munson call it? Skullduggery?” “What am I, a Hardy boy? Nah. What about a dalliance?” Chrissy scrunches up her nose. “No? Alright, well fling implies that I’m going to give up without a fight, and fat fucking chance Cunningham, so be warned. Love affair makes me feel like I’m feeling up Lady Chatterley, so that’s out.” He’s rambling now, but she doesn’t interrupt, because he’s too cute to be allowed. She bites her bottom lip. “In being upfront about my affections, madam, I’ll say that I pretty much wanna romance the shit out of you, ya know?” Chrissy sighs, brings a hand up to his face. He leans into her palm. “Can we call this a Maybe, maybe? A Could Be, Should Be?” Chrissy swallows hard. She doesn’t really know how to answer without flipping her life like it’s a table. So she kisses him again. “Maybe,” she cautions breathlessly once she pulls away. “I can work with Maybe,” Eddie replies. He gently moves her hand from his face to his chest, over his heart. “Feel that wild beat? Va va voom,” he says, then he takes a deep breath. “I might be, ah, drunk on post-coital reverie still, or like, recovering from whiplash, but. You rocked my world before you helped me rock my van, sunshine, ya know?”

H: How would you describe your style?

Descriptive, predominantly. I have very clear visuals in my head when I'm setting a scene, and I want it, to the extent that it's possible, to be immersive for the reader.

I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?

For writing it's Modern AUs, and especially romantic comedy. I love writing texting in fics (which is not everyone's cup of tea, I know), and I've definitely leaned into the coffee shop AUs. I also love writing character studies. For reading? A little angst is fine here and there, but I love it when a story makes me laugh. I much prefer funny over serious.

M: Got any premises on the back burner that you’d care to share?

Aw, man, I've got so many WIPs on the go. I want to finish a couple of more of them before I start exploring other things, but: - I have a rough outline of additional stories for the Last Chance to Run universe (runaway bride), which will more or less flow like a 90s sitcom style - I'd love to explore these HCs further: Pandemic Roommates, Hollywood Celebrities, and Fake Dating Ahem, I also may or may not be plucking away at a one-shot inspired by this post, where OPs mom met her dad by taking out an ad in the newspaper (and they dated for 3 months over the phone)? Because I have no self-control, I guess. 😅

S: Any fandom tropes you can’t resist?

Idiots in Love. Pining. Soulmates. Self-aware codependency.

From the FanFic Ask Game. Happy to answer more.

[julek]

five times jaskier does nice things for roach, and one time she returns the favor.

(or, jaskier spends a ridiculous amount of time and money on a horse).

*

“i told you not to touch roach,” geralt says when he hears his mare stomping her feet on the ground, displeased. she’s tethered to a tree near their fire and geralt, now busy brewing some potions, had finished brushing her a few minutes ago.

jaskier curses himself mentally, still not used to geralt and his witcher hearing, capable of listening to a bird’s cry three towns away. reluctantly, he draws his hand away from the horse, grinning innocently in geralt’s direction.

“i was just saying goodnight!” he says, sitting down cross-legged on his bedroll, “first impressions are very important, you know. wouldn’t want her to think i was being impolite on purpose, not when we are this”—he pinches his fingers together—“close to being best friends.”

geralt looks up at him, unimpressed. “she doesn’t like you.”

behind them, roach snorts in agreement, and jaskier splutters in indignance.

*

the forest is quiet.

no birds chirping, no predators lurking around, no sound. ideal work conditions, in geralt’s opinion. he’s crouched down next to a fallen tree, waiting for the drowners to take his bait.

suddenly, the swamp’s stillness is breached by soft singing and feet stepping on branches. rolling his eyes, geralt stands up as quietly as possible and walks over to jaskier, who’s busy picking flowers from a nearby meadow.

“i told you to stay with roach,” he says in greeting, his eyes narrowed in annoyance.

jaskier yelps and turns around to face him, clutching his heart and letting the flowers fall to the ground.

“gods, geralt! warn a guy, would you? i thought you were one of those, um… what do you call them? swimmers.”  

“drowners.”

“my words exactly,” he says, gathering some long stems. “i was waiting with roach, mind you, but i got bored. so i looked around and thought hey! roach looks awfully dull without some pretty flowers weaved in her mane, so here i am.”

geralt lifts his eyebrows, abandoning all hope for a peaceful, quick hunt.

“she’ll trample you to death before she lets you touch her,” he deadpans.

jaskier tsks, already making his way back to their camp with his fresh selection of flowers.

geralt waits for the inevitable.

“fucking ow!” he hears, and feels a smile tugging at his lips. “that doublet was new! that is not how one reacts to gifts, you vicious horse. did that witcher teach you nothing about manners?”

he did, actually. he’s glad she’s putting them to use.

*

“fuck, i’m cold.”

they’re in the outskirts of blaviken, and much to jaskier’s chagrin, they’re making camp in the forest. winter’s near, and as much as he would have liked to sleep in a warm bed, he would have turned it down anyway. he’d seen the look on geralt’s face as they approached the town, and that had been enough of a reason to follow him into the forest.

jaskier is pacing around the fire, his woolen cloak snug around his shoulders, doing little to protect him from the biting wind. geralt had gone deeper into the forest to hunt something for their dinner and hadn’t yet returned.

he looks over his shoulder at roach, who’s laying down on the ground, her legs tucked under her body. geralt had slung a blanket over her back, and she’d been dozing off for the last half hour, seemingly unfazed by the cold.

he knows it’s a bad decision, and he’ll probably be kicked and yelled at, but right now he can’t find it in himself to care. his fingers are frozen and he can’t feel his ears, and he’s sure he’ll drop dead any minute now from hypothermia, so why not?

“hi, beautiful,” he whispers, crouching down next to roach, watching her reaction. “do you mind if i sit next to you? you see, it’s horribly cold,” he sits down, carefully as not to startle her, “and it’s something my brothers and i used to do, you know? huddling for warmth.”

if roach notices him laying against her side, she doesn’t show it. he gently places his head on top of her spine, and drapes himself in his cloak.

“you’re incredibly warm, did you know that? had i known that before, i would have cuddled you sooner.”

he’s so warm and comfortable he almost doesn’t notice geralt coming back. he hears his footfalls but decides to ignore them, too cozy to move, but roach has other plans. all of a sudden, she stands up, leaving him on the floor, confused.

“wha—roach!” he exclaims, picking himself off the ground. “we were doing fine! what happened?”

geralt smirks as he starts to skin the rabbit. “maybe that will teach you not to bother her.”

“but you don’t understand, i—we were happily laying side by side just a minute ago!” jaskier says, sitting in front of the fire. “you startled her.”

geralt snorts. “i did?”

jaskier rolls his eyes and looks at roach, who’s laying down again, unperturbed. “traitor,” he whispers.

*

spices, curated meats, oils, and baked goods are all geralt can smell, meaning this particular market isn’t too big and they’ll be out on the road soon. that, if he can get jaskier to hurry and get whatever he so desperately needs.

“oh, that stone is beautiful,” the bard says to a bald salesman, keen on selling him a new ring. “alas, it’s much too expensive for me.”

he gives the salesman a sheepish smile and moves on to the next stall.

“i just need one more thing, dear witcher, and we can be on our way,” he says, grinning.

geralt arches a brow, but says nothing. better not to distract him, he’s learned.

“hello, madam!” he chirps, looking at the goods displayed on her counter, “if you would be so kind, i’d like a full bag of sugar cubes.”

huh. that’s not what geralt had been expecting. cherries, maybe, or a honeycake, not sugar cubes.

jaskier pays the woman and kindly thanks her, then ties the small bag to his belt. “well, i’m done. are we leaving?”

geralt nods.

they make their way to the side of the road, where roach is nibbling on the outgrown grass. he takes the herbs he’d purchased and places them inside roach’s saddlebag, while jaskier resumes his daily chattering.

“you’re looking quite dashing today, my lady,” he says, gently stroking the mare’s neck.

geralt expects roach to hastily brush jaskier’s hand aside, but much to his surprise, she doesn’t, snorting happily instead. he looks at them for a second, dumbfounded.

“geralt? are we going, then?”

“hmm.”

*

summer is kind enough to let a gentle breeze filter through the trees, giving jaskier a breath of clean air.

he’s got his breeches rolled up to his knees, and his doublet is nowhere to be seen. they’d been traveling nonstop for two long, humid days, the burning sun above them, and jaskier had been too tired to even sing, lazily strumming his lute as he walked next to geralt. then, in the middle of a pointless rant about how the world would be better off without the sun and its infernal heat, jaskier spotted a stream.

grabbing roach’s brush from geralt’s saddlebags, jaskier takes her reins and gently leads her into the stream. she complies, braying lightly as she feels the water on her legs.

“i know, girl,” jaskier says, gathering water on his cupped hands and letting it pour on her head, minding her ears, “it’s too hot out, even for you.”

he looks over to geralt, who’s got his back to them, scrubbing mud from his boots.

“you know,” he murmurs, smoothly brushing her mane, scratching behind her ears, “he doesn’t think we’re friends, you and i.” she snorts in response, and he chuckles. “he still thinks you don’t like me.”

she moves forward, and jaskier’s about to move out of the way to let her walk out of the stream when she bumps her head affectionately against his chest.

“oh,” he whispers, overcome with emotion. “as you know, i’ve become quite the expert at reading geralt’s hums and silences, but this is uncharted territory. animal behavior is foreign to me.”

she swishes her tail, and jaskier huffs out a laugh.

“i’ll give it my own meaning, then,” he says, pressing his nose against her snout. “i love you too.”

*

the tavern is packed to the brim, overflowing with hearty patrons who served as a great audience, generously rewarding jaskier with applause and tankards of ale with his name written on them.

“thank you, my good men and women, for listening to my tales!” he exclaims, hopping off the stool he’d been using as a makeshift stage.

he heads to the bar, picking up two of the mugs and moving toward the corner where geralt’s sitting, half-hidden under the shadows.

“help yourself, witcher,” he says, smiling brightly. “the crowd was kind to us tonight.”

to you, geralt thinks but doesn’t say. instead, he takes a swig of ale. “so i’ve seen.”

jaskier beams at him, his cheeks flushed and his hair matted with sweat. he downs half his glass, sitting back on his chair, sighing contentedly.  

they spend the evening in comfortable silence, jaskier casually making remarks about the town or the last contract, taking small bites out of a piece of bread. after a while, geralt stands up.

“i’ll go check on roach.”

“oh, good!” jaskier says, standing next to him. “i forgot my quill in her saddlebags, i’ll go with you.”

geralt hums, and they walk past the people at the tavern. they reach the half-lit stables at the back, where roach chews on some straw in her stall.

“hey, sweetheart,” jaskier greets, stroking her snout. geralt starts brushing her down, and jaskier looks into her saddlebags for his forgotten quill. a long time ago, geralt had given up on trying to split their belongings into different bags, realizing the your side, my side logic meant nothing to jaskier.

after all, they shared everything. coin, wine, food. beds, sometimes, waking up with their legs entwined, jaskier’s head on geralt’s shoulder, embraced in what they both tried to pass off as the natural seeking of warmth on cold nights, nothing else.

jaskier leans against a pillar, watching geralt take care of his horse. they’d been traveling together for so long, yet it still amazes jaskier to see geralt move around roach. how his gaze softens, and a small smile stretches across his lips, only for roach to see. how he murmurs sweet nothings, rubbing that spot on her jaw he knows she likes.

“okay,” geralt says, “go to sleep, now. we’re leaving at dawn.”

roach bumps her head against geralt’s chest, lovingly, and he gives her a smile.

“goodnight, darling,” jaskier says, sneaking a sugar cube into her mouth. “i’ll see you tomorrow.”

when he turns back, geralt’s looking at them with a fond expression, a small smile on his lips. he moves toward jaskier, his eyes soft.

“you’re spoiling her”, he says, amused. this close, jaskier can see geralt’s got a little bit of mud on his chin, and he wants to wipe it off.

“she’s a good horse,” jaskier tells him, feeling roach’s eyes on him. “she deserves nice things.”

“hmm.” geralt closes his eyes for a moment, exhaling softly.

jaskier moves forward, licking his thumb, and gently wipes geralt’s chin. he opens his eyes, watching jaskier.

“there,” jaskier whispers, his thumb now stroking geralt’s cheek.

suddenly, he feels roach nudge him forward with her snout, and he stumbles onwards, clutching geralt’s shirt for balance. they’re close, geralt’s breath on jaskier’s cheek, his hands on the bard’s waist.

“she’s a clever horse, too,” geralt says, pressing the tip of his nose against jaskier’s, rubbing softly.

“she is,” jaskier murmurs against geralt’s lips.

roach nickers softly in agreement.

[baektempo]

Tiny Victories [2/6]

Pairing: Byun Baekhyun x Reader 

Summary: The Adventures of Baekhyun, his failing Divination classes, and his broomstick named Peanut.  

Warnings: Language 

Author’s Note: Please tell me what you think of it so far, I would love to talk to you about it :)

Saturday morning. After two hours of Quidditch practice, Baekhyun is soaked in sweat. He has a fuzzy head and nausea is clenching his insides. Chanyeol did not joke about preparing for their next match with Ravenclaw.

He groans as he flops onto his bed, towel drying his hair. He remembers the roasted chicken. Your lips—your pretty, pretty lips. The kitchens. And—fuck, the donuts. The jam donuts he was supposed to be eating with you at midnight.

He’s ready to throw himself into the Black Lake and get eaten by the Giant Squid or something.

He sits there for a few minutes. Would you still talk to him after he ditched you to sleep? And his class—Professor Sinistra is gonna hang his ass from the Astronomy tower.

A while later, Jongdae comes into their room and gives Baekhyun a funny look. “Did you not see those?”

He points at a paper bag resting on his nightstand, with a note attached to it. Baekhyun sets the towel down and picks up the paper bag.

I figured you’d stood me up when you didn’t come to eat these sugary beautiful donuts. Don’t worry, I saved you two. And don’t forget, you’re gonna buy me all the Cherry Syrup I want from Madam Puddifoot’s. ☺

Your writing is neat and scribbly. He’s unsure of the huge smiley face that you’ve drawn, it seems like a warning. Next time you ditch me, I’ll hex you—something like that.

But still, there’s a grin on his face he re-reads it again. He looks up to see Jongdae with that funny look still on his face. “What?”

“She asked you to meet at the Hogsmeade Station,” Jongdae looks at his wristwatch, “at 10 am.”

“Oh,” Baekhyun says and chews his cheek. “It’s 9:45 am.”

Jongdae shrugs, plopping onto his bed. His cat, Blossom, climbs onto the bed, purring at Jongdae and gives Baekhyun a dirty look. That cat hates him.

He wastes no time as he huffs down the stairs, running through the corridors. He even considers flying to the station with his broomstick. But none of that can do.

He sees you talking to some third years by the time he makes it to the station. Although he’s bundled up in his warmest clothes, he feels almost as a cold sweat breaks out. He just doesn’t want to disappoint you—again.

“Glad to know you could make it on time, Baekhyun,” you tease, a smile gracing your lips.

Baekhyun is caught off guard as he puffs out laughs into the air, still trying to catch his breath. “I’m, I’m so sorry—I fell asleep after practice. I also missed class,”

You didn’t ask for an explanation nor do you look mad, but your lips still quirk up with appreciation as you nod. “Jongdae was complaining about how you and Chanyeol wouldn’t wake up. Let’s get going then, shall we?”

The carriage ride to High Street isn’t anything notable, just a few pubescent boys trying to impress you as Baekhyun tried his best to keep a scowl off of his face. He should be getting all the attention.

However, ten minutes later, his hands are freezing as he’s gathering all the snow he can possibly collect to form the largest snowball he can make.

He aims directly for your face and shoots, and as the best Chaser in the team—he scores.

The snowball catches you off guard, as you yelp and fall on your butt. Baekhyun is chortling, hand on his knee, one hand on his stomach because there’s a cramp from laughing too hard.

You laugh too.

“That was so unfair!” you say, aiming a poorly built snowball at him. It lands three feet away from him.

“Alright,” he chuckles, “Now that we’ve decided on who’s the best snowballer, lets go drink something warm.”

“Hey, I could’ve cast a charm to win but I didn’t,” You sass. “But now I’m freezing, and I forgot to bring my gloves.”

There’s a million spells Baekhyun knows that can warm you up, but at this moment he doesn't need the feel to pick out his wand and cast a charm.  Instead, he takes out his favorite gloves. The color is fading and there are strings hanging loose, but they’re still his favorite. He hands you his gloves.

“But won’t you be cold?” Steam blows as you speak ruefully. Baekhyun starts to see flecks of snow gently falling atop your head.

“I don’t mind the cold.” Liar. He despised the cold.

Maybe you know that he’s lying out of his mouth. But you still put on his gloves, and they’re a little big for you but there’s a huge grin on your face and it makes Baekhyun feels a bit warm on the inside.

By the time the both of you make it to Madam Puddifoot’s, he knows more about you: the socks that scream once Jongdae has worn them too much was a gift you gave to him last year. You would like to become a Curator, but you don't tell anyone about it because they might think that you’re a bit boring. You also hate going to the Forbidden Forest because spiders scare you a lot.

He also traded some secrets: he wants to compete in the Quidditch World Cup one day. He once cast a memory charm to make sure Filch didn’t remember him sneaking out with his friends to drink Firewhisky. He also is terrified of owls.

Madam Puddifoot’s is a dainty little tea shop. He feels out of place as he sits somewhat cramped on the chair.

“I know, the place is super… tacky. But I promise the drinks are really good,” you say hopefully.

“It’s okay, I’ve just never been here before.” He takes a peek at the other customers in the tea shop. They were all cuddled up against each other and… are they—are they making out?

Baekhyun coughs and clears his throat, hoping his ears aren’t red with embarrassment as he focuses his attention on you again. You are fidgeting with the lacy napkins on the tabletop, acting like you didn’t see him witness the snogging couples.

“I guess this place is more popular with couples.” He comments.

“I guess so.” You admit, a shy smile on your face.

“Miss ___, you sneaky girl. I did not know that you had a boyfriend!” Madam Puddifoot greets the both of you.

“He—he’s not my boyfriend!” Your eyes widen, cheeks flooding with warmth. Baekhyun is having way too much fun to see you flail over the accusation.

“Yet,” the older witch winks, taking both of your orders. Baekhyun picks a black coffee and you go with a warm tea.

“God, I’m so sorry. I think we’re better off at The Three Broomsticks.” you snort. He gazes for a moment at the soft expression in your eyes, and nods.

“If you want to.”

“We could meet up tomorrow… if you’re free?” you suggest.

Baekhyun pauses. He picks up the freshly brewed coffee, thinking of how to reject you in the nicest way. “I’m, uh, not gonna be free tomorrow.”

“Oh. Well. There’s always a next time,” There’s no anger or disappointment in your voice. Which is why he has been looking forward to spending more time with you. “There’s an essay I have to complete by Monday, so I’ll just stay back at Hogwarts.”

Baekhyun feels bad. “I, uh, I feel like I’m bringing the team down. So I want to practice more.” He admits.

There's a flash of emotions on your face, but a warm smile wins. He nearly faints as your hand covers his on the table. “I can’t imagine how bad you must be feeling over losing, but I promise you that I always admired your skills.”

His lips part in surprise. “You’ve seen me play?”

“Well, I am in the same house, you… goober. Gotta be supportive and all that.” You say lightly, and draw your hand away from his. He nearly protests at the loss of contact.

“Will you come to cheer me on for the next match this week?” he asks coolly and pauses, “Only if you’re free.”

Your eyes are glinting with a warmth and he feels cozy by it. “I would love to.”

—

Baekhyun breathes out a massive sigh and blinks his eyes. He can hear the snowstorm outside, and shivers in the dark of his dorm room.

He yanks off his blankets as Jongdae’s cat meows at him. He gives the cat a good glare. What business is the dumb cat upto this late, anyway?

He sucks in a breath, swings his feet onto the hardwood floor and walks downstairs. He blinks at the fireplace, and finds his way onto his favorite armchair when he spots you—laying on the carpet, scribbling away furiously with your quill.

He whispers out your name, and you nearly leap into the fireplace. “Merlin’s beard!” you gasp, “You scared me,”

He snickers and slides down onto the warm, thick rug—right next to you. “Why are you up so late?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” your voice is only a hush in the dim lit common room. The wind scratches against the windows, and Baekhyun sees the snow swirling furiously in the air.

“I couldn’t sleep.” He admits.

You set down the quill, and curl up next to him. An embrace of seeping warmth from your body makes him sigh.

“You’re nervous,” you state. Your eyes are closed. Baekhyun hums, he doesn’t really want to agree with that. Especially to you. He doesn't want to seem… weak.

“Hey, its okay, you know,” your voice is a soothing balm. “I used to think that purebloods were better than me. But honestly, it never mattered. Because at the end of the day, I became a prefect only ‘cause I worked my ass off for it.”

You chuckle. Baekhyun’s throat feels tight.

“What I’m trying to say is that… you work really, really hard. And although you don't think so, I think that you’re the best Chaser in all of Hogwarts. I know that you’ll do your best tomorrow, Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun is quiet for a moment—he is wondering if you’re heaven-sent. He then shifts his body towards you. His lips lift into a loopy smile.

“I really hope we win. I heard that there’s gonna be a scout for the National Quidditch Team tomorrow,” he sighs.

“They better pick you, I’ll make sure they do,” you say. “If not, I’ll protest outside the Ministry or something.”

Baekhyun laughs—it echoes in the open space of the common room. He yawns again, and closes his eyes.

“I know we just became friends but, thank you. For always believing in me.”

—

Baekhyun’s face is bright red when he enters the Gryffindor common room with his teammates. A cacophony of voices and laughter fill the overcrowded room. Students wearing blue, yellow and green pop out from the dozens of reds.

He feels a bit overwhelmed with everyone’s eyes on him. He tries to hide away in a corner, but Jongdae’s shrill voice thunder across the room.

“Coooongradulaaations!”

“Good lord,” Baekhyun mumbles, and his eyes catches a huge three tiered chocolate cake. It is smothered in chocolate frosting, and there’s a huge CONGRATULATIONS! written on with red frosting. He licks his lips in anticipation.

The chocolate cake is placed on a small table and Baekhyun wonders how it’s holding up as he shuffles closer to Chanyeol. His teammates blows the candles—and he’s worried for a second that Professor Dumbledore is gonna get annoyed for such a huge ruckus being caused at the common room.

Baekhyun can't help but snicker as he sees Sehun, a close friend from Slytherin getting tangled in a streamer.

Jongin shoves a plate with a massive slice of chocolate cake towards Baekhyun. He digs into it with a fork, and takes a bite. He swallows, and almost cries from how amazing it tastes.

“Isn’t it good? Me, Jongdae, Minseok and ____ went to the Kitchens last night to help the elves bake the cake,” Jongin says. He has been a friend of Baekhyun ever since they were in the same train compartment on his first year at Hogwarts.

Baekhyun speaks with his mouth full. “It’s really good.” Jongin cringes at him.

He finds Jongdae tucked away in a corner, laughing as he speaks with Minseok. He hears Minseok complaining about an owl biting his finger. He shudders at the thought.

“Hey, Baekhyun! I almost fell out of the tower from screaming out your name so loud,” Minseok jokes and slaps his back. “You were truly the star of the match.”

“Thanks, hyung.”

There’s a proud smile on Jongdae’s face.  Minseok tells them he’s going to the Ravenclaw common room to grieve over their loss.

“When did you have the time to bake a cake?” Baekhyun blurts as soon as Minseok leaves. “You were dead asleep last night!”

“You were asleep next to ____ when I woke up to my alarm,” Jongdae says impishly as he grins back at Baekhyun and wiggles his eyebrows.

Baekhyun clears his throat.

“This is so good,” he says loudly to Jongdae over the scuffle, shoving another forkful of chocolate cake into his mouth. Jongdae does not tease him about it afterwards.

The cake is nearly gone by the time everyone gravitates to other places. Baekhyun waves to Sehun and Kyungsoo as they leave. Chanyeol is arm-wrestling with Yixing. Their voices hit the ceiling. Junmyeon couldn’t make it to the party, considering that he was the Head Boy—and had to soothe his Housemates over their loss.

That was okay, he can meet up with the boys next Saturday.

Baekhyun watches you play rock, paper, scissors with a 4th year, and grins as you snatch the plate of cake away after winning. You’re smiling as you catch his eyes, heading to sit on the same couch as him.

“You did so great,” you say lightly.

“Thanks,” Baekhyun replies, smiling a little. “You didn’t have to do this.”

He gestures at the floating balloons, pieces of paper scattered from the party poppers and what is left of the cake.

“Okay? But we did it anyway,” you shrug.

He scowls, and nudges you with his elbow. There’s a gleeful laugh, and you set the empty plate on a table top and collapse next to him.

Baekhyun shifts closer to you as you find the perfect spot to rest—using his chest to rest your head on.

His insides feel funny—and it's not from the cake.

“So, did you sneak into the kitchens without me?” Baekhyun says, pretending to be hurt.

“What makes you think I’d make you decorate a cake that’s meant for you?” you quip lazily.

“Fine. I liked it. And I like you a lot better now,” Baekhyun mumbles.

“Well, I like you enough to make a cake.” you clarify. “I’m so proud of you, Baek.”

“I haven’t felt this happy for the longest time. Maybe I was in a slump,” Baekhyun breathes in your familiar, warm scent.

“I’m glad you feel better now,” you squeeze his hand. Baekhyun feels his heart almost lurch out of his chest.

Baekhyun pulls you in closer with a fond smile.

“Wonder what’s for dinner tonight.”

[bluepenguinstories]

Remoras Full Chapter VIII: Sunny Days, Sweeping Up the Clouds Away

What a great adventure I’ve had so far. I just had to get my little Ray of Sunshine a souvenir. For the time being, I would have to contend with showing the ferryman all the pictures I had of Ray on my phone.

“Look at him! Isn’t he adorable?”

“Lady, you already showed me that one.”

“Oh. Then let me show you another one!”

Silly me, I must have forgotten all the pictures I’ve shown the ferryman. We’ve been going down the canals of Italy for quite some time now, so it was easy to lose track of time.

I held the phone out to him.

“Here’s one where he’s picking his nose! He didn’t notice I took this one!”

“Look,” he turned around, his arms firm on the gondola. “You paid me to take you across the canals. Nothing more.”

Sheesh. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the panini.

“So you don’t wanna see pictures of my husband?”

“Correct.”

Got it. Loud and clear. So he didn’t want to see the most handsome man in the entire world. I understood. He was jealous. Jealous of our love. Jealous because he probably wanted Ray all to himself. For that, I couldn’t blame him. I would have been jealous as well.

But there were other pictures I could show him. That would comfort him, I was sure. Like the pictures Ray sent me of Tigershark, the mysterious kid who had apparently lost her parents in a blizzard and was now living as an “independent agent” (his words, not mine) in Ray’s diner. Neither of us were really the type to raise kids, and from the sound of things, Tigershark was quite mature for her age, so all the better. She was a cute little thing, all around. Had some orange hair, which was redder in places, to make it look like her hair had stripes.

Then there was Demetria, the scholar. From what I heard, she was a student and stumbled upon the diner. She then found something she loved about the restaurant and became a wait staff as a result. Since, she had been honing her customer service skills. She was also a little cute, with her wavy green hair and serious, studious face. It was clear from the pictures that she was quite a serious and well put together person. In a way, that had its own charm.

“Hey, wanna see pictures of –”

“Lady, I swear to God, if you don’t stop, I will throw you overboard!”

Fine. I crossed my arms, but if I could beat the power of love into him, I would have.

Once we made landing on the docks, I gave him a little extra money for the trouble, then stretched my legs. What a good thing I did, as well. While I stretched, a bullet flew right past me. Just a little closer, and I would have suffered a serious injury to my side!

It didn’t matter who they were or what they wanted, only that I was their target. Near me was a crate, which in spite of such a rickety dock, I figured it was my best bet. I took cover behind it, then peeked out. Mercenaries in rooftops wearing plain clothed baggy pants and T-shirts. Probably hired by some arms dealer, or a museum curator. The latter seemed more likely.

Bullets continued to ricochet off of the crate.

“Ah, being shot at. How nostalgic. This reminds me of my honeymoon,” I remarked. It was a bit of a shame that no one was around to hear me. There was quite a story behind our honeymoon, but that would have to wait for another time. When I could tell it in full.

Ah, I’m going to need to remember this moment. Ray loves to hear about my adventures.

Thinking back wasn’t going to get me anywhere. In the present, I was still in a bit of a tight spot. I got out my phone and texted Ray:

Me: Sorry babe, something came up last minute. I’ll be home a little later than expected.

Also in my pocket was a plastic baggie. I put my phone inside and zipped it up. Then, while ducked, I dived off of the docks and into the waters of the canal. I swam over to underneath the docks, then came up for air. Soon, footsteps were upon the docks and I could hear them yelling.

“She has to be around here somewhere!”

Crap. They’ll surely see me.

Next to me was a boat, docked upside down. I dived back down and swam over to it, then came up, under the protection of the boat.

My pursuers gave up their search for me not long after. Just to be on the safe side, I continued swimming down.

What was the purpose of that ferryman if I’m just going to end up going back?

My detour led me to a nearby beach, where I emerged, drenched. Clothes stuck to my skin. For want of a towel, I shook my head and let the water fly out of my hair. Getting anything out of my pockets was a near-impossible feat. At least I had no problems getting back to my hotel room.

Once there, I emptied my pockets onto the bed and threw my clothes out the window. Not to worry, I had a spare set in my suitcase.

I pulled my phone out of the plastic baggie and checked my messages. Sometime during the skirmish, Ray replied:

Ray: Your presence is a gift floating through the wind. I never ask when the gift will arrive, but I am excited every time I see it.

Me: OMG. I will be home later tonight, I SWEAR!

Ray: Haha. All right. There’ll be dinner waiting for you.

That was all the motivation I needed. Let’s see...a couple thousand miles or so up north? Something like that? Eh. The details didn’t matter. I hurried down the stairs and checked out.

“How was your stay?” The concierge asked.

“It was fine enough, but not nearly as fine as my husband. Wanna see pictures of him?”

“I’m good.”

“Oh, all right, but here,” I held out my phone. “Here’s a pic of the two of us sharing a slice of cheesecake together!”

“That’s nice,” the concierge didn’t sound very interested.

“Well, I’ll be off! Not to get all sentimental, but it’s been almost a year since I’ve seen him, so I ought to get back up there!”

I rushed out the door and made my way to the airport. Of course, I just had to take a detour through a marketplace first. After all, I was dead set on finding some neat little gifts to take home.

One of the shops was selling plushies.

“Hmm...Tigershark might like that, right? Or maybe she’s getting to be that age where she thinks she’s too old for stuffed animals? How old is she? Nine, I think?” I looked around. “I’m never really good at gifts. I don’t even know what she likes. Maybe a tiger plush toy? Or a shark?”

I walked around and saw a tiger stripe print handbag. It wasn’t much, and I didn’t even know if she’d like it, but I picked it up anyway. It was something.

Then, as I walked out, I noticed a shop selling cookbooks. I almost got it for Ray, but then realized it might have seemed condescending, since he was already a bit of a know-it-all when it came to things like that. But, at a nearby stall, I spotted someone selling earrings.

I leaned over and pointed down. “Hey, you got some neat stuff.”

“Thanks,” the merchant replied. “See anything that fits your fancy?”

I shook my head. “Nope! But I think those small star shaped ones would look great on my husband!”

As I got out the money to buy them, I got stopped.

“Hey, it’s Sunny Reyes!”

I turned my head. Looks like I had been spotted.

“Can you hold on a sec?” I held my finger up to the merchant, then stood up to face the mercenary.

“Hi! How’s it going?”

Then, another showed up right beside. Great. Two against one. Just my luck.

“Sunny Reyes? I thought her name was Sunny Sunshine,” the other mercenary asked.

“Actually,” I corrected. “It depends on the day. Since today is a special day, I’ll let you guess which one it is.”

Then, before we could really gear up for a fight, I felt the poke of a machine gun against my back.

“Aw, come on guys! You wouldn’t open fire in the middle of a crowd, would you?”

“You kept us from getting the treasure! We’ll take the risk!” One of the ones in front of me barked.

Which treasure? I’ve kinda been all over the place.

I reached behind me and grabbed on to the gun that could have fired right into my back. Then, I threw it overhead along with the person who had held so tight onto it, and tossed them right into the other two, knocking all three onto the ground. I couldn’t tell if there were any more behind me, but I was also willing to take a few risks. While they were on the ground, I leaned over, hands on my hips, and smiled.

“Hey, wanna see a picture of my daughter? She’s just the sweetest thing in the whole wide world,” I got out my phone, but then I thought better of it. “Actually, I’ll tell you about her. She’s got such wonderful dark hair and such a bright smile. She loves to draw and she loves to cook and I haven’t seen her in years, but I love her to pieces.”

They all growled and were about to get up, but then I slammed my foot into their pile.

“Here, keep the change,” I threw money the merchant’s way and snatched the earrings. If only those folks had given me more time, I would have probably gotten a little bag to keep them in. Oh well, none of that mattered. At least I had something to bring home.

Home sweet home.

To think I was about to step through those doors after so long. There was no helping it. I couldn’t contain my excitement any longer. I burst through the doors and held out my arms.

“Hello! I’m back!”

My eyes darted around the restaurant until I saw Ray at one of the booths. He perked up, went over to me, and held out his hands as he took a bow.

“Welcome back, madame!”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

“What’s this ‘madame’ business?”

“It’s the food I made you for dinner,” he explained. “Tartiflette with croque madame on the side.”

“My favorite!”

“Is it really?” He looked surprised. “Did you have it while you were away? I don’t recall making it for you before.”

“No, silly! Everything you make is my favorite.”

Across from where Ray had sat, I noticed someone’s head poked out.

“There’s a new customer!” She gasped. At last, I got to see her: Tigershark. She ran up to me. “I helped make the dinner! I shredded the cheese and helped carry the pan!”

“Aw, aren’t you cute?” I pat Tigershark’s head. She reached her hands up and growled.

“You’re a customer! Use eti...eddy…”

“Etiquette,” Ray corrected. “And this is my wife, Sunny.”

She gasped. “You’re who the food’s for!”

I beamed, unable to hide my smile. But then I turned to Ray. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Sure thing, hun.”

We walked away and into the kitchen. Tigershark tried to follow along, but Ray motioned for her to stay put for the time being. Once I was certain we had our privacy, I began.

“I thought we agreed it was for the best not to raise any kids,” I folded my arms as I spoke.

“Indeed we did. Not to worry, just as I said, she’s pretty independent. Plus, I got Remora to take care of her. She just likes to visit. If anything, I’m more like her uncle.”

“Wait,” there was a key word in what he told me. “Remora is here? Or, you guys are in contact, at least?”

“Dammit,” he stamped his foot, but smiled as he said it. “I wanted to keep it a surprise.”

What a pleasant surprise it was, too.

“Well, in any case, it sounds like you’ve been teaching her many things.”

“Guilty. Remora’s not really...the mom type.”

I let out a laugh. “Right, that’s more you. You always were the maternal one.”

He looked away and scratched his chin. “Well, what can I say?”

“You can say ‘bon appétit’ since you made a french dish.”

“Or...I could say ‘you are the greatest woman alive’.”

I nudged him. “Come on! Let’s go eat!”

We walked back to the booth and sat.

“We’re going to eat, right? Right?” Tigershark asked, antsy.

“Mhm,” Ray and I both answered. It was refreshing, us as a duo. I didn’t want to leave any time soon.

My main source of curiosity was still the legend herself, the one who called herself ‘Remora’. We met once, when she refused to meet up with us again. Then, I left. If only the call of adventure wasn’t so strong, there had been so much I never got to experience. But in a way, it was exciting, being able to meet all the newcomers at once. Oh! That reminded me! I pulled the earrings out from my pocket.

“For you, my ray of light.”

“How sweet of you,” he placed it up to his ears. “If only those pesky lobes hadn’t gone and filled themselves in. Been years since I wore any piercings. No matter, I’m always down for a little bit of pain.”

“And, for you,”I reached behind me and pulled out the little handbag.

“Ooh! I can fit so many cookies in here!”

“When Ray told me about you, I thought he said ‘tiger stripe’ so I thought that would work.” No I didn’t. I was just trying to save face.

“That’s funny! Zebras have stripes! My name isn’t even Tigershark, I just forgot what it is! So Tigershark can be my name too!”

In that case, wouldn’t that mean it’s your name?

“I didn’t know what you liked, so I hope that’s okay.” Again, saving face.

“It’s okay! I like penguins!”

Note to self: get her a penguin plush toy.

After we ate, I made my way to the back, where sure enough, Remora was, in the chair that Ray used to sit in all the time.

“Oh wow! It really is you!” I exclaimed. She was slumped and looked bored and listless, but once I said something, she looked up.

“Oh, hi.”

“You probably don’t remember me, we only met once, and –”

“You’re Sunny. I know.”

“Yes! You remember!”

“You get mentioned fairly often. It would be hard not to know who you are.”

“Ooh wonder what they say about me,” I snapped my fingers.

“Just things like ‘wanna see what my wife just sent me?’ and ‘Sunny is so pretty’.”

“Aw, I didn’t know you thought of me that way.”

“Yes. You are pretty. But I’m not the one who said those things and also I am not married to you.”

“Would you want to be?”

“Stop that.”

“Aw, all right. So anyway, what’s new?”

“Basically, I’m in charge now.”

“Of the restaurant?”

She glared at me.

“Of this little side-hustle you guys got going on. The whole requests thing. I get to decide who does what and when.”

“Ooh. Now that you’re in charge, wanna send me out to do a mission?”

“Any in particular you have in mind?”

I thought it over. “Hm...it doesn’t matter. Oh!” My hand shot up. “Give it to me hard and rough!”

“Don’t phrase it like that.”

It took me a good second to figure out why she scolded me like that, but once I did, I was elated.

“Hey Ray!” I called over. He came into the back. “Our good friend Remora knows innuendo!”

“Aw, how cute,” Ray chimed in.

“Stop that, both of you. I’m not a baby.”

I sat down in the empty swivel chair across from her. From the moment I heard she was there, I just had to test that rumored strength of hers.

“Wanna have a drinking contest?” I grinned.

“No.”

“Aw, why not? Afraid you’ll lose?”

“No. I just don’t think it’s a good idea. I like strong liquor, yes, but I don’t like to gorge myself.”

“Sounds to me like you’re chickening out.”

“I just don’t want to be held liable if you get alcohol poisoning.”

Ray stepped in. “I concur. Between the both of you, I fear our whole reserve will run out. We need to save some for the customers.”

“Oh!” I perked up. “Speaking of customers, isn’t there someone who works here now?”

“You mean Demetria?”

“Yeah! Where’s she been? I haven’t seen her around since I got here and I was really looking forward to seeing her, too!”

“She went off to take care of one of the requests,” Ray explained.

“Oh! That’s cool! What are her special skills?”

“Well...she’s smart.”

“Mm-hmm,” I nodded. “That is a good trait.”

“But only when it comes to marine life. Otherwise she doesn’t know much,” Ray clarified.

“Is she strong? Good with any kind of weapons? Resourceful? Resilient? Is she charming?”

To each, both Ray and Remora shook their heads.

Everything around me slowed down. It was like a truck had hit me.

“So you’re telling me...she’s normal?” My jaw was about ready to drop. I got up and began to pace. “If it were either of you, I’d understand, but really?”

“You’re not going to ask what kind of request it was?”

“Sure. I’ll bite,�� I huffed.

“It was to cleanse a haunted house.”

“Yeah,” I crossed my arms. “That doesn’t make it any better. Even if it may have turned out to be hokey, that’s still dangerous!”

“I told her as much, too.”

“Why, then? Why would she go and do something like that?”

Remora shrugged her shoulders, then spoke up. “I don’t know. She said something about wanting to prove herself.”

“Prove herself? What was there to prove?”

“I told her the same thing,” Ray seemed to be trying to reassure me, but it was cold comfort. I decided to walk upstairs. Ray followed behind.

“Where are you going?” He asked.

“Upstairs. Care to join me?” As if I would give him a choice. I’d drag him upstairs by the pinkie. I wanted that man all to myself. But not for anything so sultry. That wasn’t the right night.

In fact, when I got upstairs, I sat at the edge of the bed and shook my head. I knew I had been gone for almost a year, but it seemed like the entire dynamic had changed so fast. Of course, when I last left the diner, it was just Ray and I. We had tried to invite Remora to little success.

Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t that I didn’t like the dynamic change. I was actually excited for it, too, up until the moment I heard that one of the newcomers was nowhere to be found.

Ray sat beside me and lifted my chin.

“You’re worried about her, aren’t you?”

I nodded. But that wasn’t quite right.

“More than that. These requests, it was a thing for you and I, because we could handle such things. Remora, too, she’s exceptional. But the kid? Demetria? It feels like we’re putting people in needless danger.”

“I agree, but I figured it would be fine as long as those two stayed at the diner.”

“Elodie stayed at the diner, too,” I pointed out. “It’s not exactly the safest place to live.”

As soon as I had said that, I winced. Neither of us wanted to think of that, I was sure.

“The funny thing is, I tried to stop her. I forbade her from going and told her I wouldn’t be paying for her plane ticket. But, she managed to go out there. Pulled a fast one on me, too, by managing to trick Cybele into giving her a ride. Can’t say I blame her, though, seeing as she wants to impress her crush.”

“Wait. What?”

“Oh, right,” he leaned back and laughed, hand over his head. “When I said ‘she found something she loved about the restaurant’ I was being a little vague, wasn’t I? Our little scholar friend’s heart flutters for our frosty friend.”

I stood up. That changed everything. I couldn’t believe it.

“That’s all the more reason!” I ran back downstairs.

“How long has it been since she left?” I asked both Ray and Remora.

“A little over a week, I think,” Ray answered. “Now that you mention it, didn’t she say she’d be back within a week?”

Remora shrugged. “Yeah, she did. Oh well. Things happen.”

“That’s all you have to say? You, more than anyone, should be worried about her! What if something terrible happened to her?”

“She’s an adult and can make her own decisions. She knew the risks.”

“But what about love? Love is the most important thing in the world, and it can make you feel like you can punch a meteor! Without love, you would only see a shooting star as a shooting star! But it’s the power of love that makes it so much more! It makes you see a comet and wish that that comet was headed toward you –”

“Pretty sure that would kill you.”

“Ahem! Yes! Love is a thing that can kill you and that is why...you should be worried about her!”

She blinked. “I don’t get it.”

“That is also why she should not have gone out there!”

“Wait. You don’t think she died, did you?” She leaned forward. By the sound of things, it was a sign of genuine concern. At least I hoped so, anyway.

“I don’t know, but I should go and find out.”

Remora sighed. “I’ll go. May as well seeing as I didn’t do anything to stop her.”

“You’ve done quite enough,” I scolded.

“What? I’ve just been sitting here the whole time.”

I wouldn’t hear another word. I made my way to the front. Ray followed behind.

“Leaving so soon?” He asked.

“I’ll be back soon. I just need to check it out.”

He nodded. Even if he may have thought that I shouldn’t worry so much, I still had that pain in my gut, telling me to hurry.

At the airport, I found Cybele taking a nap in the break room with a fantasy novel on her lap.

“Cybele, honey,” I whispered, then tapped on her shoulder. She jolted up.

“Oh shit, sorry,” then she blinked. “Sunny?! Is that you?! I didn’t think I’d see you here. You usually go out and about on your own. Though I don’t know how you do it…”

“Never mind that right now. Do you remember a girl with wavy, green hair, kind of short?”

“Oh yeah. She said she had family in New Hampshire and then as soon as we got there, it turned out she tricked me.”

“Can you take me there?”

“What? You too? What’s so special about that place, anyway?”

“It’s about her. She’s in danger. Just trust me.”

I say that, but I’m not even sure if she is or not.

“Okay. If it’s for you, we’ll go.”

We flew off at once. As we drew closer, I noticed smoke from out the window. Upon landing, I got out and felt the ashen air and began coughing. I covered my mouth before looking back at Cybele.

“Can you wait for me in the plane? I’ll be right back.”

She squinted her eyes. “Yeah, but sheesh. You be safe too, okay?”

I followed the cloud of smoke to its source: a woodsy, forested area. At that point, it was too overpowering to get any further. There were efforts to put out the flames, fire departments on the scene, but it looked like it continued to rage on. I ran back and in a nearby town, took to a rooftop. Once I was high enough, I pulled out binoculars and checked out the woods once more. As soon as I was able to get a closer look at the source, I dropped the binoculars. All my fears had come true.

I have to get back to the others. This is horrible.

Along the way, I managed to talk to someone who lived in the area. The more details I heard, the worse it got. By the time I got back to the plane, I choked up. Cybele saw me as I entered, I tried to greet her like normal, but between my smoke-filled lungs and the revelation, little came out.

“Sunny?” She asked.

“She…” It was no use.

“Sunny? Tell me what happened.”

I sat down in one of the seats and shook my head. That time, I was able to answer properly. “The building she went to investigate is burned down. The surrounding woods caught fire. I asked one of the locals about it. They said it started burning last week. Someone in the fire department said a body was found, burnt to a crisp. I can’t…”

I wanted to get closer, to see for myself. To find some proof that she could still be okay, that she was still out there. But I couldn’t manage to. The flames were too strong and I had nothing to protect myself against them.

“My God,” Cybele gasped. “I’m sorry. I feel like it’s my fault all this happened. If I had stopped to think about her story, I wouldn’t have agreed to help her, and she’d still be around.”

“No. You did nothing wrong. Let’s go back.”

When I made it back to the diner the very next morning, I didn’t make any big greetings. I couldn’t bring myself to do that.

Tigershark was the first to greet me.

“You’re back!” Her energy was so vibrant, so pure. I hated that I was about to crush her spirits.

“I have some bad news,” I announced, rather than a greeting. I sounded so dull and lifeless. It almost seemed to mirror Remora’s regular tone.

“What?”

“Your friend, Demetria, she won’t be coming back.”

“Why not? Did she go back to her other home?”

Oh dear…

“No. She’s dead.”

Her face changed from that of excitement to anger.

“You can’t just say things like that!” She yelled, her hands up in the air.

“I’m sorry. It’s true.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I know it’s not what you wanted to hear, but –” She interrupted me.

“You don’t get it!” She ran off to the back.

I tried to follow her and as soon as I opened the door, Ray got up and wrapped one arm around my back and comforted me.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“It’s Demetria. There was a fire. I don’t think she could have made it out.”

He went silent. The whole room did. Remora, in her usual spot, looked down at the desk and flipped through stacks of papers. That wouldn’t do. I went up to the desk and slammed my hands down.

“I know you heard me!” I shouted. My face was burning red, on the verge of tears. “Don’t you have anything to say?”

She looked up. “What about it? It’s unfortunate. I know you’re upset, but these things happen.”

“That’s it?”

“I get it. When someone dies, it’s normal to be upset. But that doesn’t mean I am. If either of you know anything about me, this shouldn’t come as a surprise.”

I released my hands and stood back up, taking a deep breath as I did so.

“You’re right. I’m not mad at you. Or anyone. I just wish things were different.” I paced around the room, and then came to a conclusion. “I think taking on all these requests got out of hand. It might be best if we stopped.”

“In that case, there’s no more reason for me to be here,” Remora pointed out.

Ray turned to me. “Under any other circumstance, I would urge you not to be so hasty. But I understand.”

It seemed like such a quick decision to make, but it was so hard to imagine it happening. My husband and I spent years doing that second job and earned most of our money that way. It was a source of joy for us. But I just couldn’t imagine it being fun anymore.

“I also think we should hold a memorial service for her. I’ll carve her name into a stone. It can serve as a grave.”

Tigershark ran out from one of the rooms. “You guys are being dumb!”

“Sweetie,” I tried to calm her. I wasn’t good at this.

“No! She promised! Just wait a few more days!”

“I don’t want to believe it, but –”

She ran off again. I felt like it was hopeless.

I went out and found a large stone on the ground. After a while of looking around, I found a smaller rock with a jagged edge that I could use to carve her name in. I got to work, each letter at a time. I didn’t know when she was born, so I left it at her name. Just as I finished up and stood back up, I looked behind me to see the others. Even Tigershark was there, although begrudgingly. She still looked like she didn’t want to face me.

“I discussed it with the others, and we agree that a memorial is the least we can do,” Ray explained.

Remora didn’t say anything. Neither agreed, nor disagreed. I didn’t know whether she felt obligated to show up, or just wanted to. Whichever it was, I was glad she was there. From what little I had heard of Demetria, I thought that she would have wanted Remora to be there.

“I guess I should start,” I began. “Though it’s hard to know what to say. I never really knew her. I think that’s the point…” I coughed, then began: “Demetria, I wish I got to meet you.  I have no doubt we would have gotten along.”

I took a few steps back and let Ray walk up to the stone. He wasn’t smiling, rather, he pushed his glasses up and looked down.

“You were a delight to have around. Although you weren’t the best at everything you did, I really appreciated how you gave everything your all.”

He walked away after that.

“Tigershark, do you have anything to say?”

She didn’t look at me. Or any of us. But she ran up to the stone and kicked it. The stone didn’t budge.

“You promised! You said you would come back!”

Ray picked her up and set her aside. She continued to yell, “it’s not fair!”

I turned to Remora, who looked straight ahead. Not down, not up. It was as if none of us were there. “Do you want to say anything?” I asked her. She shrugged her shoulders and took a couple steps forward.

“I feel like I should mourn her, but I’ve never been able to feel anything when someone died. It’s never meant anything to me.”

“Any words you could say about her?” I pressed.

She shook her head. “She was...interesting.”

After a moment of silence, we all looked at each other. It felt like we were all on the same page; unable to figure out what to do going forward. We were about ready to go back, or go our separate ways, when we heard someone’s voice call out.

“Fuck y’all!”

We turned around and saw someone approach, badly bruised and limping. One step at a time, she drew closer.

“I don’t believe it…” I stood, wide-eyed.

Tigershark ran up to her and gave her a big hug.

“You came back!”

“Ow, ow, ow. What gives?” She groaned, looking like she was about to fall over. “I said I would, wouldn’t I?”

“I know! But nobody else listened!” Tigershark whined.

Again, I couldn’t believe what I saw. It didn’t add up. Still, I couldn’t deny that she was there. I walked forward. She didn’t know me, and I never got to meet her, but even still.

“There was a fire, I thought for sure…”

“Yeah,” she looked up, scowled, and pointed at herself. “Because I set the fire!”

Even if what she said was true, if I wasn’t just seeing some kind of illusion, there were still so many unanswered questions. But for the moment, I allowed myself to believe she was there.

It looked too real to be anything but, anyway. She looked like even if she was alive, she was on the verge of collapsing, and in really bad shape.

“You’re alive,” I murmured.

Everyone else looked just as confused as I was. Remora, however, walked up to her.

“Good job,” she said, then walked away. Demetria stood wide-eyed, then looked at the rest of us.

“That’s right. I’m really back, aren’t I?” She smiled as she said that, even if her smile looked weak.

Maybe the kid was right and I should have waited longer. As if I really should have believed that promise. But even though it had come true, I still couldn’t help but think: Promises don’t mean much in the face of reality.

For once, though, I was glad to be proven wrong.

[empressdrega27]

Tag meeeeeeeeme

I was tagged by the incredible @24hourshipping (Love u Liv~) and since I haven’t done one in awhile, here we are~

are you named after someone? Yiss! I’m named after my mom’s aunt Betty and her grandma Helen! But if I had been a boy, my name would’ve been Eric Richard, with Eric not being from any part of my fam, but Richard being my dad’s name lol

last time you cried? I.... can’t remember honestly??

any kids? HAHAHA LMFAO NAHHHH. I plan on adopting someday tho!

do i use sarcasm? Yeeeeee, sarcasm and derision are my thang lol

first thing i notice about a person? Eyes!! As an artist, I learned to draw eyes via a youtube tutorial and it really made me realize all the complexities of the eye! There’s so many colors and the shape is so different from person to person, how the hue changes with the light or a person’s mood? Amazing~ I always look at a person’s eyes first~

eye color?  Uh, blue grey? They’re weird tbh, sometimes it’s easy to tell what color they are and then it’s like ‘well fuck it idk’ lmao. When my pupils are fully contracted, they turn silver tho~

scary movie or happy ending? Happy ending for sure. I’m not a fan of scary movies, too much gore

special talent? I’m a pretty good mimic! I can mimic accents, certain voices I hear, and I can make animal sounds and sound effects! Sometimes I think about a career in voice acting lol

birthplace? Amarillo, Texas!!

hobbies? Drawing, writing, daydreaming (idc if that doesn’t count i’m putting it anyways XD), singing, listening to music, plastic canvas sewing, origami, cooking, and swimming!! 

played any sports? NO. I hate sports. And I suck at them so it doesn’t matter either way lol. Tho there was a time where I considered competitive swimming, but then I was like ‘nah that’s boring’. Oh and I was a cheerleader when I was a kid, but I wasn’t very good at it. Everyone asks me if I play basketball or volleyball, and the answer is NO, I DO NOT. lmao

pets? I have 5 chihuahuas, Madam, Angel, Sugar, Bambi, and Scooter! And 3 cats, Bella, Dahlia, and Itsy Bitsy! I used to have a dove named Snowy Dove, but she passed away quite a few years ago.

height? 6′4~ I’m a strong sword wielding goddess among mortal men~

favorite subject in school? SCIENCE!!!!! SCIENCE ALL DAY ERRYDAY!!! God, I cannot even begin to recount my love of science, it’s followed me to this day lemme tell ya~ A close second would be art and english, with my least faves being pe and math lol

dream job? I would love to be the curator of a palentological exhibit of a museum, a gemologist for a jewelry store, a professional artist, and/or a voice actress! I’ll be pursuing degrees to facilitate the first three when I enter college~

I’m tagging @official-morgan-m-steele @reds-revenge @honig-bienchen @undeniablycandycane @cryptidchaos @your-local-tsundere @jocelynships @rosyinlove ~ Pls don’t feel obligated to do this, these are just fun ways of getting to know you guys better, and they should be fun! So only do it if you feel up to it~ 

Love you Liv, thanks for tagging me!! And I love everyone reading this too!!!

[flashwitch]

Too Soon To Say I'm Sorry

Here on AO3

Summary:

After that year alone, Lucretia changes.

Notes:

"And you’ve all had difficulties on this journey, but you’ve never been alone before, not like this. You never knew that weight. And Lucretia lived with it, along with all the other challenges that this world threw at her every day for a year.

And she was different after that, in a way that made the rest of you proud. She never volunteered to stay back with the ship again. She spent less time chronicling your journey and more time participating in it. She became fierce and confident and decisive. She wouldn't go on to found the Bureau of Balance for decades still, but this, this horrible lonely year, this is when Lucretia became Madam Director."

The Adventure Zone, Episode 65: Stolen Century Chapter 6. 

Lucretia still loves the crew. She still trusts the crew.

But…

There is something inside her, something small and sharp and dark, a little voice at the back of her head. It doesn’t reset with everything else each cycle. It’s just there.

It says ‘Are you sure?’. It says ‘is that the right way?’. It says ‘You don’t have to listen to them.’

And she ignores it because it is small and she is not. And she loves the crew and she trusts the crew and after all, she’s just there to write things down. Davenport is the Captain. He knows best.  

And it’s strange having them all around again. She never noticed how loud they all are. When it was just her and Fisher, everything was quiet and still, and she doesn’t miss that, the endless silence, but it is hard hearing all of their voices again.

She puts herself forward more, she’s not as scared, she speaks up and her voice is not as loud as theirs but they listen anyway.

It doesn’t happen all at once. There isn’t a moment where she breaks and says ‘no, do it my way’. It’s little things, over the cycles.

It’s Lup, teasing her. The same way she teases everybody. The same way she teases Taako and Barry for goodness sake. It’s loving and silly and Lup makes fun of herself as much as she does everyone else and it’s never been meant maliciously.

But one day Lup is teasing her, prodding her to come outside and pick fruit and she will go eventually but she is writing and it’s important, Lup. And Lup calls her a nerd and something pings through her. Something cold. The small, sharp, dark thing that’s lived in her heart since That Cycle speaks up. It says, ‘you all died and I was alone’. It says, ‘a nerd would have died, a nerd wouldn’t have saved you’. It says, ‘shut your useless mouth.’

And Lucretia, she is appalled. She feels heat rush to her cheeks. Lup is her friend. Her sister. The crew are family. She goes to her room and reminds herself that she is just one member of the crew. That they love her and she loves them. That Lup doesn’t mean anything, and they are all nerds. IPRE only accepts nerds, had been the joke back in the day. It had started when Taako had asked Magnus what a Jock was doing signing up for Planer Travel. There were no Fantasy Sportsball teams in space!

Later she finds them all outside and Lup pulls her over and Taako throws her one of that Not Apples that they’d picked and she took a bite. It tasted sweet and slightly floral and she smiled. For a little while she could pretend she was one of them still.

The next time it happens, it’s Davenport. They are on the planet Magnus has dubbed Puppytown and the Hunger is coming. They have the Light, but a lot of these dogs are going to die.

“We get as many on board as we can, we can save lives!”

“And have how many more mouths to feed? And we can’t bring them home. It would be cruel, Magnus.”

And the little voice snaps out ‘so we just leave them? They’re helpless. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.’ And she just stops, frozen for a moment. Because Davenport is the captain. He knows what he’s talking about. Of course he does.

But…

These are puppies. Surely they could save a few…

“Magnus, fine. We’ll take what we can, but if there isn’t a safe place for them in the next cycle, that’s on your head.”

And so they take on the dogs and drop them off at the next place and it’s fine. It’s all fine. Davenport made the right decision, he just needs time to think of all the consequences. You can’t press him into doing what you want.

And it’s fine.

The next time it’s something ridiculous.

They are having a good cycle. They found the light early. The world they’re on is quiet and mostly peaceful and they’ve made a niche for themselves and it is nice. They’re all enjoying it.

It starts off differently this time, or maybe she’s just relaxed enough to notice it starting this time. Her skin feels tight. They are too loud, too close. She clenches her hands and takes a slow deep breath. She backs up to sit a little way away, where she is still part of everything, but everything isn’t so close.

She fiddles with her necklace and tries to relax. There is no need to be on edge here. She is safe. She is with the crew. Everything is fine.

Then Merle drops unexpectedly into the seat beside her and her carefully curated calm is cracked open.

‘They don’t know’, the small sharp thing says. ‘They don’t know what you’ve been through. They have no idea.’ And Merle is talking to, saying something about something, she isn’t sure what, there’s a ringing in her ears. ‘You are stronger than all of them’.

And she has to get up, she has to get away, and she hurries an apology to the cleric and heads off out of the way.

She never talks about that cycle. That year. She never talks about being alone. About hiding and running and fighting and having to plan and do everything by herself. She doesn’t talk about how she had been shot in the leg with one of those strange weapons and how she’s had to patch herself up silently hiding in an alley behind a doctor’s surgery. She doesn’t talk about watching the Hunger descend and thinking ‘good.’

She doesn’t talk about how she hadn’t been sure that she could survive.  

Some nights she wakes up screaming, but that isn’t unusual. They all have nights like that.

She doesn’t tell them she feels responsible for them, because that is ridiculous, right? She is younger than everyone except Magnus. She is not strong, she is not a leader, she is just there to write the story. She isn’t supposed to be a hero.

And then Lup has an Idea. And it is a dangerous idea. She can see that it isn’t going to work. Or if it does work, it will have consequences. So she tells them her idea. And she is proud of her idea, she really believes it will work.

But it was doomed before she even started speaking. They all see her as an innocent little sister. As someone to be protected and ignored.

That isn’t fair. She knows it isn’t fair. But it’s how she feels and she can’t help that.

Besides, as soon as it was Lup who came up with it, Lucretia knew it was useless to argue. She tries anyway, because she needs to, but she knows it’s hopeless. Because Lup will have Taako and Barry on her side as a given. And the three of them are good at talking and they are good at getting people to listen, and between the three of them all they need to do is persuade one more to get a majority. She would have to persuade all three of the others by herself.

So, when they decide exactly as she knows they would, she goes along. She creates her own relic. She hopes it might work. She hopes she’s wrong.

She’s not wrong.

The plan ‘works’ for a given value of ‘works’.

It’s afterwards that everything goes wrong.

And she is very good. She doesn’t say ‘I told you so’ even though she did. She hates this. She hates that  the things they have put out into the world have caused such turmoil. She hates seeing the crew so defeated, so broken. They are still trying to act like this is a victory but she has seen Barry crying more than once, Taako is being quiet¸ Davenport has been spending more and more time alone.  Lup is just… gone They are falling apart.

She just wants to help. She knows her plan would work. She isn’t stupid. She isn’t young or innocent. Not anymore.

She just… she can fix this. She can’t fix the nightmares, she can’t fix all the places they’ve lost, she can’t make everything better. But she can fix this. She can make it so they don’t feel bad. She can perfect her plan.

She can do this.

They’ll thank her when all is said and done. She knows they will.

They have to.

[hellsite-detective]

CANT BELIEVE I FORGOT TO CONGRATULATE THE WOMAN EVER-

*cough cough* anyway. 100 foods of your choice 10 bouquets and 1 platonic kiss on the forehead for you for the womens day!!!

WHAT OMG IM GENUINELY SO HONORED AAAAAAAA THANK YOOUUUU

but if anyone is the woman every it’s Madame Curator!! she is just simply incredible and i love her immensely (oops i’m gushing about her again) but seriously thank you so much!!! happy women’s day to women i love women!!!

[skaikruswan]

First Reunion

Summary:  When Diana comes to think about it, Steve Trevor has been her first in many occasions. But she had never expected him to return to her.

Ao3

When Diana comes to think about it, Steve Trevor has been her first in many occasions.

He has been the first man she had ever seen. She still remembers the sunny day on Themyscira, when she saw his plane crash into the ocean. The decision to save him came natural, she didn’t think twice about leaping into the sea and dragging him to the shore. Thinking back, Diana realizes that she must have looked at him with an almost childish delight. She had touched him to make sure that he hadn’t been an illusion, that her mother’s stories had been true.

She knows and loves ice cream because of Steve. Nowadays, Diana gets to choose from a wonderful variety of ice cream, but it can never compare to one Steve had bought for her. In Themyscira, her sweet tooth had been satisfied by fruits and cakes. Having a cold, sugary treat had been a new experience. When Diana finds the time to relax, she eats ice cream and remembers the man who introduced it to her.

In her job, no, in her new life she has dance on several occasions. Galas are a constant in her life and she has got used to it. Sometimes Diana yearns for the simplicity of the dance she and Steve had. There had been no ulterior motives, no trying to win her favor; only a man who had wanted to teach a woman how to dance. Diana likes winter: she enjoys seeing the world covered in white, the people coming together with their loved ones, the ending and beginning of a new year. When the first snow falls she always steps outside, remembering the magic when Steve had gently swayed her that evening in Veld.

Steve had also been her heart break. When Antiope had died, Diana had felt more shocked and stupefied, and it had taken a moment to understand that her aunt would never talk to her, never train with her, and never encourage her again. But when she had seen the plane exploding and realized that she would never see Steve again, that he was gone, her heart had just hurt so much that it felt as if it had shattered. For a long time, she had only his wristwatch to remember him by. Memories are a tricky thing: no matter how hard you hold onto them, they slowly slip away. Diana has trouble imagining the sound of Steve’s voice, the fond expression in his eyes when he had looked at her, or the roughness of his hands. She can’t thank Bruce enough for returning the picture to her.

Her mother’s departing words still echo in her head: “You’ve been my greatest love, now you’re my greatest sorrow.” Since Steve’s death, she understands them than ever.

Diana is used to get weird phone calls at her work. Antiquities gone missing or mixed up, a schedule that needs to be redone, or distraught owners, she has seen it all. As curator, one should always try to remain calm. Yet, she frowns when her secretary, Sandra, bursts into her office.

“Madam, there’s someone who absolutely needs to see you. Do you know any American who plays theatre? Because his clothes look like it.”

How odd, Diana thinks, and follows her. When she arrives into the entrance hall of the Louvre and sees him, she thinks for a second that she has gone mad. No, that her mind is playing tricks on her. It had happened, especially in the years after the first war: she had seen Steve everywhere, caught glimpses of him, only for him to disappear.

“Steve.” she says and holds her breath. If it’s an illusion, he’ll disappear anyways, the sardonic part of her mind thinks.

“Diana!” he calls out and in the blink of an eye, she’s wrapped in a hug. His clothes are the ones he died in and she grabs his coat to pull him closer. How she had missed him.

“This is real.” she whispers, her mind racing and her heart bursting out of joy.

“Ehem.” Sandra clears her throat and Diana turns her face enough to look at her, but still resting on Steve’s shoulder. “Should I cancel your appointments?”

“Yes please.” Diana says with a smile, her arms still wrapped around Steve. “I am busy today.”

 Driving home to her apartment had been a real experience. As a spy, Steve had been an expert at hiding his emotions and controlling his facial expression. Yet she sees astonishment and confusion flash over his face while they drive back to her apartment in Paris. Diana just sits there, staring at him while trying to burn every single detail of him into her mind. The drive doesn’t take too long and soon they arrive at her apartment. They had driven in silence, and in silence he follows her into her home.

“Wait here, please.” Diana asks him and gestures towards the coach, while she enters her room. It only takes a moment for her to return, the lasso of Hestia in her hands.

“I’m sorry,” Diana says as she sits next to him, “but I have to make sure it’s really you.” She lives in a world where time travel is possible; she can’t rule out clones or worse.

“I understand.” Steve gives her nod and takes the lasso to wrap it around his hands, just like he had done once before.

“Are you Steve Trevor, the man I met on Themyscira?” Diana asks stares into his eyes. So blue you could drown in them, she had thought more than once.

“Yes.” he answers and Diana feels that he’s telling the truth. No illusion, no clone, only the love of her life who has returned to her. Diana feels a radiant smile form on her lips and leans towards him.

“But how?” The question escapes her and she really doesn’t want to ruin the moment, but she’s curious. Dead people usually don’t come back after a century.

“I don’t know.” Steve says with a shrug, a pensive expression on his face. “I remember being in a village where you could find people from every epoch. It didn’t really feel as if time passed. I existed, I was happy, but something was missing.” He pauses to take her hand, their fingers entwining. “Then three men came to me, clad in magnificent togas and radiating power. One said that I was lucky that I bathed in the sacred waters of Themyscira, where his power was still existing. The second one said that for the life I’ve lived and the lives I’ve saved, I deserved the highest of rewards. The last one grabbed my shoulder and mumbled that he wanted to see his daughter happy. Then I woke up in front of this museum, knowing somehow that you would be here.”

“Could it be that you met Poseidon, Hades and Zeus?” Diana was still processing this. Could it be that the gods weren’t as dead as she thought they were? Are they just resting?

“Maybe. I do know some Greek mythology and it would fit.”

“It doesn’t matter now.” Diana says decisively and stops Steve’s answer with a kiss. The moment their lips met, she feels a firework inside her body. The kiss starts gentle yet hesitant, as if both were still afraid. Then she feels Steve’s hands loosen the knot and bury into her locks and she pulls him closer, her hands gently cupping his face. A moan escapes him and Steve kisses her again, this time with the passion and intensity of a missed century. She closes her eyes and allows herself to get lost in the moment, to enjoy it to its fullest. When they slowly break apart she feels breathless but absolutely exhilarated.

“Do you realize what this is?” Steve asks her and she looks up, her head resting on his lap, his hands brushing though her hair. She shakes her head and feels him press a soft kiss, almost like a butterfly’s touch, on her forehead. “More time.”

 Steve Trevor had been her first in many occasions. Diana had never thought that he would also be the first reunion to make her so happy that her heart almost jumped out of her chest.

[hellsite-detective]

hi detective, can you find the color theory red hospital post? thank youuu

trackin' this one proved to be a bit harder than i initially anticipated. see, i knew the exact post i was lookin' for. with it bein' a famous post, i knew exactly where to look too. so i took a stroll downtown to Madame Curator's shinin' exhibition hall of cursed artifacts. however, pokin' around in there, i couldn't find what i wanted. odd, considerin' i knew she had posted this one. must be the shifting labyrinthine design of the museum playin' tricks on me. but i decided to move on anyway.

headin' down to the Search Bar, i approached Google to ask for a bit of help with this one. however, they could smell the void on me. and they were none too pleased...

"What's this? You thought you could just come crawlin' back here with your tail between your legs after takin' your business to that big shot in that ivory museum?"

"can it, Don."

i told them i could take my business to that hot-headed upstart, Firefox. or that old money kingpin, Internet Explorer. they immediately perked up.

"Hey, hey! Now, you know I was kiddin', right? We're all pals here, c'mon!"

i scoffed and asked them for what i came here for, that bein' "tumblr color theory hospital." they handed me a screenshot with no questions asked, and i started searchin' addresses. they were all turnin' up blank so i went back to Google and asked they what they was playin' at. they were scared at this point, i had them right where i wanted them. they then handed over a link to the post i wanted. a bit of reverse engineerin' of the reblogs got me what i wanted. save for one final reblog in the chain. i reiterated my request, askin' specifically for that final post to be included. finally, they handed over what i wanted. i grabbed it and filed it away.

here's your post! a bit of a long storied journey today, but that's what happens in this city sometimes. have a great day!

Post Case: Closed