#that's an absurd thing to say and everyone involved knows it's absurd so nice straw man

[unforth]

Since I've seen several posts floating around that try to rebut the points of @end-otw-racism by saying that AO3 is too big to moderate, can we PLEASE take a moment and remember that AO3 IS ALREADY HEAVILY MODERATED.

We all know the obvious one - that if you post anything about monetizing fic, you will be moderated into oblivion. We also all know why! This is essential to AO3's survival as a non-profit! No one would propose changing this!

But a lot of people seem to forget that AO3 is moderated in other ways! For a personal example, several years ago I got a "change this or we're removing your work" e-mail. The work in question? A collection of pseudo-ficlets that were somewhere between outlines and sketchy fics. What I got moderated for? I said in the a/n that if anyone wanted to expand my kinda-outliney nonsense into fully fleshed out stories, they were welcome to do so! I was told this was a violation of the ToS, because fics that are collections of prompts aren't allowed, and that if I didn't change the a/n I'd have to delete the work. Of course I edited the a/n, and my work was allowed, and I moved on. I did, immediately, delete another work I'd posted, which WAS literally sets of prompts I'd written free to a good home. It was clearly in violation of those rules, and I just hadn't realized content like that wasn't allowed.

Numerous things are forbidden on AO3 and will get moderated and potentially deleted, including:

advertising

"find a fic" posts

spam

plagiarized works

virus spreading

doxxing

actual CSAM

lots of other stuff as listed in the tos

If the foundation of your argument is "AO3 is too big to moderate" your argument is bad. AO3 is already moderated.

So that means your ACTUAL argument is "I think AO3 is moderated enough as-is and I don't think AO3 should be moderated in a way that might better protect fans of color."

Having that attitude despite the many, many, MANY fans of colors who say "hey, we don't feel safe here, can this be better moderated to protect us?" (when, by the way, the existing harassment policy SHOULD protect them but clearly isn't being implemented in ways that actually DOES protect them!)

Well. That's sure a take.

(TO BE CLEAR: I am anti-censorship. I am pro-moderation. I am pro-AO3. I fucking love your dark fic, your underage works, your non-con stories, your kinky pwp with "no redeeming qualities," your dirty-wrong-bad ego fics. I would NEVER want a solution that removed that content. And I believe AO3 is the greatest thing to happen to fic in my lifetime and I want it to continue to be the wonderful thing it is. I think that what AO3 already is can be reconciled with the demands of fans of color that they be better protected. I believe fans of color when they say that the current policies don't protect them adequately, that they don't feel safe, that this drives them out of white western fandom. I've listened a lot, and I've seen a lot, and I've learned a lot, and I want AO3 to be better than it is in this regard. I'm honestly kinda depressed how many people seem comfortable with the status quo.)

[blue-bird-kny]

How You Spend Days Off

I stuck to only the three main peeps, but I’m looking forward to writing for more JJK characters. It was actually really nice to write for them, so I hope you enjoy~Amanda

P.S: Be safe out after dark!

Warning: N/A

( 2.1K+ words)

   ↳{shenanigans you and your S/O get up to on days off}

Yuji:

Days off with Yuji are unpredictable and always either involve something thrilling and very energy consuming or it can be some of the simplest things a person can do- no in between.

Yuji usually is the one who makes plans during your spare time (though he always gets your opinion, of course), he just really values time with you and wants to experience so much together while he can

It was common knowledge that this coming Friday, all the students would have the time off to rest as a reward for all their hard work with the recent influx of curse activity. Yuji wasted no time in planning the perfect day together, from the moment you woke up next to him to when you both fell asleep, he had something ready.                               

“Ah that was delicious Yuji, thank you” you cheered, arms stretched high above your head in an attempt to work away the sleepiness the food had made you feel. “No problem! Only the best for you, princess” Yuji’s smile reached past his shining eyes, thrilled you enjoyed the assortment of plates and bowls filled with your breakfast favorites he’d surprised you with. “Well then, my prince, to what honor do I owe your company today?” you asked leaning against your balled fist and bent elbow on the table, amusement and adoration laced on all your features. “For one day only, yours truly scored us tickets to…! Drum roll please!” Yuji posed dramatically, eyes cast down while crouched and pointing in a funny manner.

You proceeded to bang your fist against the table, laughing lightly, “We’re going to spend all day at Monster Con!” he pulled out two floppy pieces of paper from his back pocket as you gasped, “Oh I’m not finished yet, princess, we’ll also be wearing matching costumes I hand selected” You stood quickly, clapping at his theatrical performance as he bowed, repeating, “Thank you, thank you”. You made your way to infront of the boy, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders while he enveloped your waist tightly, pressing you against him. “Not going dressed as your pesky alter ego, huh?” you joked staring up at the taller kid, earning you a slight pout, “No, he’s not invited” he grumbled. “Sorry, that joke was in poor taste” you apologized, shifting to run your thumb along his juted bottom lip to smooth out the lines.

“No worries, I know ya didn’t mean anything by it” your hand stayed cupping his cheek, both star-filled eyes trained on each other as you both wore the cheesiest grins. Just as you stood on your tip-toes to close the space between each other, a warm gust of breath blew against the palm holding Yuji still, “I was wondering why you hadn’t spoiled the moment” you sighed, lowering yourself to lean your forehead against Yuji’s chest instead. A small mouth carved into its host cheek frowned, now free to speak without your hand suffocating it, “I can handle the women’s teasing, however what have I done in my many lifetimes to have to suffer through this painful love-sick puppies act” Sukuna complained. “Many things actually” you responded, muffled by Yuji’s shirt that smelled of a citrusy-warm blend you couldn’t get enough of. “Why do you always kill the mood?” Yuji  groaned up towards the ceiling, earning himself a scoff from the demon king. “Oh? You mean like that I wouldn’t let y-” “SHUT UP!” Yuji slammed his hand against his own face to silence the man, his cheeks inflamed.

Now clad in matching costumes, you as frankenstein's wife and Yuji as Frankenstein, from the hair to the clothes to the make-up, you both spent the day without any further hiccups; how Yuji kept Sukuna at bay, you didn’t know, but I didn’t really matter. The stares from passengers on the train to the convention center was obvious to everyone but you two, lost in your own little love-sick world of old-fashion horror movies, delicious food, and pure, unfiltered content.

Megumi:

Megumi is a simple guy who likes simple things; he’s overworked and more exhausted than he even realizes, however he doesn’t acknowledge that...ever. In fact, you could run a mile ‘too quickly’ by his standards and he will have you take a break and drink his bottle of water (though you had your own and he knew that).

On your rare days off together, Megumi would silently stick to you like glue; he wants to do something for you in the creative way Yuji does and definitely wants to spend the time with you, but he can never come up with a complete idea of how to ‘wow’ you.

Except you didn’t need to be wowed, in fact you really were burnt out, so when the day came when you had  nothing to do but be together, you planned a whole day of nothing with a side of Netflix and take-out.

You knocked on the door to Megumi’s dorm that was just a few paces away from your own. It was almost noon and you still wore your pj’s from last night, cookie monster shorts and an old shirt of Megumi’s you took last week, having made no attempt to fix your hair. “Umi~!” you whined, banging on the door a little harder, the plastic bag from the convenience store rustling at your side. “Coming” Megumi opened the door in a similar state; pj’s still on and hair sticking in even weirder directions than normal.

“Mornin” you greeted with the faintest grin, “sorry to wake you” “ I was just getting up” he yawned while he tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. “Sure I can tell by the bed head” you teased, earning a playful eye roll from the boy. You waved the bag of goodies in front of his face, “Let me in, I’ll make it worth your while~” he chuckled, “I doubt it” despite his words he stood to the side, letting you past and closing the door behind you.

His dorm was dark and a little stuffy, clearly Megumi hadn’t had time to do the in depth cleaning the little neat-freak was so fond of. The continents of the bag clacked together and scattered around as you tossed it onto the small table in the corner, making your way over to his comfortable futon that smelled of his signature eucalyptus soaps. You flopped about for a moment, stretching, snuggling into the sheets still warm from Megumi, who was watching the small scene from the door, “C’mon Umi’ I wanna get through at least two episodes of SVU before we inevitably fall asleep wrapped in each others arms” you called dreamily with lidded eyes, already tired again as you buried beneath his sheets and pillows.

Megumi could feel his chest ache and stomach flutter at the image of the one who he cared for so much that it physically hurt laying there in his bed with soft, kind eyes just for him- it was almost too much. “Umi, I will eat all the sour snakes if you don’t come over here, your sheets are getting cold” Megumi was cut off by his own thoughts of admiration by your voice. He chuckled at the cute way your face cringed a bit at the sour-sweet taste of the candy before sliding into bed too, your head laying on his chest as he held you close. A small, genuine grin spread across his lips as the sound of Netflix starting rang from the TV, holding you even tighter, ‘this is perfect’

Nobara

Be ready to put on your best dressed because you and your girlfriend are hitting the town! Of course Nobara would find her way into the city whenever she could, foreign to the endless wonders the busy streets had to offer and luckily for her, you happened to be far more native with the many sights to see.

She’d let you sleep in, holding you tender as she traced her nails across your skin to form intricate patterns until you woke. You both would totally be the couple that wears matching outfits, the same colors and patterns tailored to your personal styles- of course this would also lead to thousands of pictures for Nobara’s instagram.  

You two would laughed, eat delicious foods, and would spend way more than either of you cared to admit nor did you want to because the price of absurd, unfiltered laughter and the feel of just a good time, was one both of you could pay a thousand times (and a new pair of shoes too)

The sun hung lower in the sky than it did when you started this little adventure before noon, having been sold on the idea by Nobara that she “only needed a few things” this morning. Now, exhausted perched on a steel chair outside some cafe you’d never heard of with your sore feet elevated on the other empty one you waited for your girlfriend who was inside somewhere.

“Jeez even my fingers are cramped” you groaned flexing your numb digits; shopping was a grueling vice because no matter how much you’ve already bought, more cute sweaters, tops, and matching accessories called to you by name and the art of saying ‘no’ wasn’t exactly in Ms.Kugisaki’s vocabulary. “Here ya’ go babe” Nobara emerged from the shop with two cups, handing one to you before sipping gingerly from her own. You brought the plastic straw to your lips, sighing in relief as the contents quelled a thirst you didn’t even know had been building up. “I don’t think we did too much damage” your face fell and eyes bulged, flailing your arms out around at the brightly colored parcels that littered the table and surrounding floor, “Nobara there are at least fifteen bags here”

She laughed, her hand falling on top of your thigh, giving a gentle squeeze, “Still no that bad”. She scooched her chair closer to yours, her thumb rubbing nonsense circles into the denim of your jeans, “What next?” she asked leaning into her seat, her brown irises watching yours fondly, “Food? We haven’t eaten since a lot earlier and I could turn into a wolf any second and eat you” you teased, though food sounded better and better the more you thought about it. “Eat me? You promise, baby?” Nobara’s smirk earned herself a not-so-graceful, but light kick from you.

“An impromptu picnic sounds great” Nobara decided, tapping against you in finality. It became a game: You both had 30 minutes to run around the delicious food district to pick out each other's favorites, as many as you liked (which would be more food than two can eat), then you’d reconvene at the same cafe. Nobara offered to pick up a blanket at the convenience store because she ‘knew you so well she wouldn’t need the whole half hour.’ The game was on and time was ticking as you both rushed in opposite directions with several bags and a hunger to please the other.

You scurred around each vendor, selecting different meat dishes and veggies, cakes and watermelon, and even splurged on some fancy sushi from the place she'd wanted to try. Your arms quivered under the weight of the many shopping bags and take-out boxes, but you were determined to get back first. “Just around the corner- Are you kidding me?!” you yelled. In the exact steel seat she sat in earlier, was Nobara with an array of bags around her, boxes and the blanket stacked neatly on the table with dark sunglasses adorning her face and her legs crossed cockily as she spoke smoothly, “Beat ya”

Both of you grossly overestimated the amount of food you could eat in one sitting as practically unopened boxes lay stacked on top one another on the blankets while watermelon rinds and used plates were thrown into a garbage bag. The sun was low, almost at the horizon, painting the sky in pastel oranges and pinks with hints of purple and blue; the spring chill had blown a little heavier now that the sun was setting and it was getting harder to stop the shivers. Nobara laid against the trunk of a tree with you between her legs, holding you as her manicured fingers idly massaged your scalp quietly- you would have fallen asleep at the small gesture had you not been actively keeping your eyes open. “The boys will be grateful for the food, I’d hate wasting it” she yawned to which you only hummed.

“Hey” you turned your head up slightly, only enough to meet her gaze, “today was really fun” she smiled, slithering across your arm to grab your cheeks gently in her fingers, forcing your lips to pucker, “yeah it was.” Your wobbly smile made Nobara feel things, too many things at once, and a lump began to form in her throat, “I love you” you mumbled, Nobara’s breath caught for only a moment, whispering a thick “me too.”

Masterlist 

[janeykath318]

All I Want For Christmas (Shieldshock)

When are you going to finally tell him?” Jane hissed at her assistant, whose eyes were following the departing figure of one Steve Rogers with a great deal of admiration, leaning into thirst. 

Darcy immediately turned her gaze back to Jane, affecting ignorance. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said primly. “Who wouldn’t admire The Star Spangled Hunk With a Plan?” 

Jane snorted. “That was more than the average “admiration.” I know you better than that.” 

Darcy huffed and affixed her gaze sternly on the screen she was monitoring, hoping to discourage Jane from any further conversation on the topic. It was absurd. She was just another casual fangirl. It was perfectly natural. Who didn’t have a slight crush on Captain America?

“Ohh, Janey!” She exclaimed, glad for a diversion. “I think you’re gonna like these readings! We’re getting some good data here!”

Science quickly took over and Jane completely forgot about her matchmaking interests for the ensuing thirty six hours science binge! 

When it was over Darcy dragged Jane to bed, and stumbled blearily towards her own room, soon falling into blissful dreams of a blonde haired super soldier.

She woke with a gasp after a particularly vivid dream where she’d swooped her up and kissed her hard, heart fluttering wildly.

“I’m in so much trouble,” she groaned, burying her face under the pillow and willing herself to think of something—anything else!

When she and Jane had first moved into the tower, the only residents they’d met had been Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff. Both were badass and very fun to hang out with. As for Steve Rogers, she’d seen him mostly from a distance when he’d been talking to Tony in a lab or working out in a gym. 

The first encounter was in the spacious kitchen that most of the Avengers shared. Darcy was searching  for some ingredients for her famous banana waffles when she came face to face with a very bedraggled, bruised, and battered Captain America.

“Dude!” she’d gasped out. “Are you okay? You look like Thor took his hammer to your face.”

He’d smiled weakly, then winced as if it hurt to use any facial muscles. 

“I’ll be okay. S’already healing. Looking for an ice pack.” 

“Lucky for you, we’ve got a fair selection. Clint and Natasha use them a LOT.” Darcy rummaged in the freezer and found one, which she offered to him. “This work?” 

He’d accepted it with a grateful look and a quiet “Thank You.” 

“Rough mission?” she asked, sympathetically.”

“That’s an understatement,” he’d said wearily. “I’m sorry for disturbing you, ma’am. I’m going to go sit down before I fall down. Thanks, again.”

With that he’d excused himself and limped away, leaving Darcy a touch concerned, but also, wowed. 

The next time she saw him was sopping wet, stalking through the halls with a murderous expression that made Darcy scamper to stay out of his way. She’d never seen Captain America make that expression before and it was rather terrifying. Someone was about to get it. 

“Hey, Cap! Who pissed in your Cheerios?” Tony yelled as the angry soldier passed them. 

Steve stopped dead in his tracks. If looks could kill, Tony would have combusted on the spot.

“Are you responsible for this, Stark?” He said through gritted teeth. 

“No, but I wish I was,” the reckless Tony replied cheekily. 

Seeing Steve really was about to lose it, Darcy stepped in to intervene before things got out of hand. Cap wasn’t the type to get mad over a simple prank, so she guessed whatever it was had to have been very thoughtless. 

Stepping back into his path, she gave what she hoped was a winning smile.

“Don’t mind him, Cap. He has no sense of self preservation or tact. If you promise to not kill him, I’ll help you track down the real perpetrator and get revenge. I am an excellent prank detective.”

For a moment, he stared at her like she had two heads, then the frown started to ease and his shoulders relaxed. He wiped at his wet face and sighed heavily. 

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have let it get to me. It’s…..been a…….rough day for me and this was the straw that broke the camel’s back, so to speak. I really don’t like ice water, especially when it’s randomly dumped on my head.”

Now it was Darcy’s turn to frown. The poor man had been frozen for seventy years and this stupid prank had probably triggered him. 

“Yikes, Dude!” She said with a wince. “This calls for teaching a lesson, alright. How about you get into dry clothes and meet me in the lounge? We can start plotting. I think I may know the idiot who would have done this.” 

“Sounds like a plan, Miss….”

“Lewis, Darcy Lewis,” she finished. “And You’re Steve Rogers?” 

“In the flesh,” he confirmed, with a crooked little smile that was all kinds of cute. 

“Well, Steve, I hope you’ll trust me when I say you’ll never have to worry about this kind of thing happening again,” she said firmly. “Just ask Tony what I did when he messed with my coffee supply.” 

She gave her most evil, villainous grin, which made Tony shudder and Steve smile. .

Her dastardly plan was successful enough that Steve was left well enough alone and though he never told her what had been bothering him so much, she did a little searching and the tidbit she found made her ache for the man again. It was the anniversary of the day he’d lost his best friend. 

Darcy commenced Operation Be Kind To Steve shortly after, which involved leaving funny notes in the common areas, making sure there were regular deliveries of his favorite Apple Crumble Pie, and regularly greeting him cheerily when he stopped by the lab. 

After three or four months of this, she was quite smitten and wished she had the guts to ask him out, but with the fall of Shield and Steve’s search for The Winter Soldier, the timing was all wrong. So, she continued to worship from afar and expanded Operation Be Nice To Steve to include Bucky as well. 

Steve, who was looking much happier these days, had been sent by Natasha to inform them their presence was required at the upcoming  Avengers Karaoke night: Holiday Edition. Darcy had instantly accepted for both of them, causing Jane to sigh and try to probe Darcy about her crush. 

After three more science binges and sleeping for twelve hours straight, Darcy was more than ready for some fun. She put on some very flattering dark jeans, a glittery green top, and very long gold dangle earrings which she only wore when she was on “the hunt” so to speak.

Jane grinned knowingly at her and gave her a thumbs up. 

“Go for it, girl!” she encouraged. 

Darcy flushed and headed to the bar to get a drink for courage while Tony crooned Blue Christmas badly. As she sipped her drink and covertly eyed Steve, a familiar redhead joined her. 

“Well, is tonight the night you complete your wooing of Steve Rogers?” Nat asked with a knowing smile, looking over at Steve, who was talking with a shaggy-haired man that Darcy guessed was Bucky. 

“What would give you that idea?” Darcy said coyly, crossing one leg over the other and acting like she was totally chill.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the way you’ve been doing all those nice things for him, and the way you can’t take your eyes off him. Plus, you’re wearing the earrings you only wear when you’re trying to land a man.”

“It’s really annoying to live with so many spies,” Darcy huffed, taking another sip of her drink. Nat laughed. 

“If it helps, he’s been looking at you the same way,” Nat told her.

“Really?” Darcy asked, trying not to sound hopeful or excited.

“Really. I hope you have a good song picked out.” With a wink, Nat slipped away from the bar and strode onto the stage, where she proceeded to bring the house down with a killer version of Silver Bells.

Darcy was glad she didn’t have to follow that up, because, wow! 

Clint ambled on stage and delivered a mocking rendition of “Last Christmas” that had everyone doubled over laughing. His ridiculous falsetto and facial expressions were priceless and Darcy forgot her nervousness in laughter. 

When Clint had taken his bows, Darcy approached the mic and told JARVIS her song selection. Boldly, she locked eyes with Steve and sang right to him. 

“I don’t want a lot for Christmas,

There is just one thing I need, 

I don’t care about the presents 

Underneath the Christmas Tree.

I just want you for my own,

More than you could ever know, 

Make my wish come true, 

All I want for Christmas is you!” 

It was hard to see a reaction at first, but as she repeated the verses again, still looking at him, comprehension dawned, and his blue eyes grew wide, his cheeks started to flush, and a smile appeared that almost took Darcy’s breath away. 

Oh, wow. 

Had he just smoldered at her? 

“I just want you for my own

More than you could ever know

Make my wish come true

All I want for Christmas is you!”

Before she’d even finished, he was on his feet and heading toward her. She could hear the other avengers giggling and whispering, but tuned it out once he got close. 

“Was that for me?” Steve asked.

Darcy’s face grew very warm under his searching gaze, and she slowly nodded.

“Yeah. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, but I just had to get it out there,” she said, heart in her throat. 

Steve looked at her and she looked back, mesmerized by his expression. 

Then, he bent down and made her dream come true by kissing her very decisively in a way that made her knees weak and left her in no doubt as to whether the interest was mutual.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” She gasped teasingly when they’d pulled apart. 

Steve nodded. 

“I Uh…..have been wanting to say something for awhile,” he admitted. “But I kept chickening out. Bucky here will tell you I’m no good at talking to pretty gals, and you are downright gorgeous.” 

Darcy’s heart fluttered at his compliment.

“You’re off to a pretty good start so far,” she told him, with a flirty eyebrow waggle. “How about we get out of here and find someplace more private?” 

“I’d like that,” Steve agreed, still holding her hand. 

[whereistheonepiece]

♥ If it strikes your interest: Sanji is very affectionate when he's drunk

Send me writing prompts. Status: Accepting.

Note: This is inspired by @lesbian-space-ranger Also I don’t know if you saw, but this is the last prompt I did. I think you’ll like it if you haven’t seen it.

I worked very hard to get into the proper headspace to write this.

-

Zoro and Sanji were not what one would consider an affectionate couple–at least not in the beginning and not when other people were around to see. This in part was because Zoro didn’t understand the incessant need some couples had to involve the public in something that was supposed to be private. This wasn’t to say that he was against hand holding or light kisses in public settings, but Zoro wasn’t in the habit of making anyone else privy to the fact that Sanji’s deft fingers in his hair reduced him from snarling tiger on the battlefield to a purring lap cat–in the beginning, that is. Nowadays, he didn’t care who saw when he settled in for a nap on Sanji’s lap, lulled to sleep by the soothing sensation of Sanji playing with his hair and lightly scratching his scalp.

And then there was Sanji, the other half of the equation. “It’s not that I’m ashamed,” Sanji had told him once when Zoro had approached him to ask him if he was having second thoughts about their relationship. “I just like that this is just between us right now. I like having this little secret with you.”

And Zoro had respected that, had understood that line of reasoning. He waited and tried to remain discreet until Sanji was ready to go public–and then he did what he could to assuage Sanji’s wounded pride in the privacy of the kitchen while the cook ranted about how none of the crew had been surprised, because hadn’t Sanji and Zoro been careful? 

Zoro remembered trying at first to stifle his amusement, but Sanji, in his anger, reminded Zoro of an angry kitten Zoro had come across once. The thing could fit in the palm of his hand, and it had been startled by Zoro, and it had done its best to appear big and intimidating, arched back, tiny lips pulled back in a snarl. It had only made Sanji angrier when Zoro had started laughing, and Zoro had to fend off Sanji’s furious kicks, grinning all the while as his kitten bared his fangs at him.

Zoro looked at Sanji from across the table he and the rest of the crew occupied in the tavern, smiling to himself over the rim of his tankard as he remembered how things had been so long ago. These days they were more open with their affection for each other, but usually that stayed on the comfort of the ship or at the end of the battle, when their blood still raced and unspent energy found its outlet through heavy, aggressive kissing and gripping, pulling hands.

Zoro kept his gaze on Sanji, watched the love cook flirting with Nami, Robin, and the two friends they’d made since entering the tavern. Zoro watched the way Nami and Robin exchanged knowing glances with each other as Sanji tried to ingratiate himself with the two women seated across from them, the two female members of the Straw Hat pirates already three steps ahead of Sanji, as always. 

Robin, cheek cradled in her hand, her eyes sparkling with amusement, cast a glance Zoro’s way, silently checking in with him without needing to say a word. Zoro nodded at her and tipped his tankard in her direction before finishing off his drink. He then pushed himself up out of his seat, telling the table he’d take the next round, feeling generous, earning raucous cheers from his inebriated crewmates.

Sanji noticed Zoro as he passed by, grinning at him and throwing an arm around his neck. “Zorooo,” he drawled, slightly stumbling as he followed him to the bar, leaving all four ladies behind. Zoro raised an eyebrow, putting a steadying hand on the small of Sanji’s back just in case it was needed.

“Hi, Cook,” Zoro said, raising his free hand to get the bartender’s attention. “You having fun?” He glanced over his shoulder and saw the women chattering away, the both of them already forgotten.

“Yes,” Sanji said, with the special kind of happiness that only came to small children and the drunk. “But the important question is: are you having fun, Marimo?”

Zoro smirked and looked at Sanji, who still had his arm around his neck, as he put in his order for the next round. “Yes, Cook,” he said. “There’s alcohol and all our friends are here. Course I’m having fun.”

“Good,” Sanji said, nodding with as much solemnity as he could muster in his current state. “It’s good to have fun.”

Zoro chuckled once, shaking his head. Sanji had hardly anything to drink and already he was tipsy. “Should I order you another drink or are you stopping here for the night?”

“No.”

“No, what?” Zoro asked. The bartender looked their way and sent Zoro a brief nod as he worked on drinks for a different set of customers.

“No, I’m not stopping.”

“All right.”

“‘Cause I’m gonna keep up with you tonight.”

Zoro looked at Sanji skeptically, raising an eyebrow. “Cook, you’ve probably had less to drink than me and you’re already ahead of me.” Zoro at most had a nice buzz going on and Sanji already looked sleepy.

“Don’t care,” Sanji said, resting his head against Zoro’s with a sigh. “Maybe I’ll stop and wait for you to catch up.” He hummed contentedly, his fingers snaking up the side of Zoro’s head and petting Zoro’s hair like he would a small animal. “Yer hair’s soft...”

Zoro blinked. The cook was going to have a killer hangover in the morning if he truly intended on drinking like Zoro, and he was always a complete bitch in the morning after as he nursed his headache, but Sanji was an adult and could make his own decisions–no matter how poorly thought out they were. “Don’t come crying to me when your head hurts tomorrow,” he said before placing his order. “You’ll get no sympathy.”

“Cross my heart, hope to die, Marimo.”

-

Sanji’s plans to drink as much as Zoro had failed. Nami was the only one on the ship who could keep up with Zoro–and maybe even outpace him–and she’d left with the rest of the others a while ago. Sanji’s efforts had been brave–and stupid–but they’d been in vain. The cook slumped over the table with a sigh, pushing his tankard away in defeat while Zoro watched him over the rim of his, small smirk on his lips.

“Okay,” Sanji said, pushing his seat out, probably ready to leave. “I’ve had enough.”

“See you on the ship,” Zoro mumbled, too busy staring into the amber depths of his drink to notice Sanji walking over to him until the cook had plopped himself in Zoro’s lap, straddling his thighs. He looked up at Sanji. “Hello–” he said before he was cut short by Sanji wrapping all four of his limbs around Zoro’s torso and burying his face in Zoro’s neck.

Zoro blinked, glancing around to see if anyone had taken notice. Most everyone had left at this point and those that had remained were too drunk to notice or care. He was the only witness to Sanji’s shameless clinging. He wished he could take a picture of this moment. Zoro let him be, taking his time with his drink, the alcohol and Sanji’s soft snoring his only company.

When he was ready for what would be his last drink, Zoro stood up and was shocked to find that Sanji’s grip hadn’t lessened, even in sleep, even as Zoro moved. Zoro stared at Sanji, his shock dulled by the alcohol. A crossbreed of a snort and a snicker emanated from his nose and made his nasal passages sore as he took in the absurdity of the situation.

Zoro sighed. “Cook,” he said, trying to push down on Sanji’s thighs. They wouldn’t budge. He tried again, this time with more force, and was met with the same resistance. “Cook. Let go.”

Sanji mumbled something in his sleep.

Zoro shook his head. To think that all of the previous moments he’d experienced in his life had built up to form this one. The absurdity of it all...

Zoro continued to try to pry Sanji off him until it finally sunk in that the only way he’d be free of Sanji’s python grip was to enact serious injury on the cook, so he relented with a long, tired sigh. “This is my life,” Zoro muttered to himself, still in disbelief as he turned around slowly and Sanji continued to cling to him. Zoro tiredly ruffled Sanji’s blond hair as he approached to pay his tab, the final drink a no-go. “Guess we’re going home, Cook.”

The bartender did little more than raise his eyebrow, having probably seen weirder. Zoro flashed the man a sardonic grin. “Gotta take my child home,” Zoro said wryly as he paid for the night.

He heard the bartender bark out a laugh as he turned and left.

He found Brook waiting for him outside, staring up at the full moon. The skeleton turned his skull, saying “Ah, Zoro-san, the others–” Brook stopped in his tracks when he saw Zoro staring at him blandly, Sanji clinging to his torso like a young koala did to its mother.

“Shhhh,” Zoro whispered loudly, finger held to his lips. “The baby is sleeping.”

Brook hesitated, tilting his skull to the side. “I was trying to say that the others thought it prudent that I escort you back to the ship.”

Zoro was already trudging past Brook. “Of course they did,” he said dully. “Assholes.”

Brook took two large steps to catch up. “Ah, Zoro-san?” he asked, concern in his voice as he grabbed Zoro by the shoulder and steered him in the right direction. “May I ask why–”

“Why I have a twenty-one year old man hanging off me?” Zoro asked, looking up into Brook’s skeletal face. “Dumbass wanted to drink with me.”

Brook laughed quietly. “I see. And have you tried–”

“Yes, Brook,” Zoro interrupted, “I tried getting him off of me. Asshole’s got legs of steel.”

“Hm. I must say, it’s interesting to see the two of you like this,” Brook observed.

“Like what?” Zoro asked, keeping his attention on the cobblestones in front of him.

“So open with each other out in public,” Brook explained. “You’re usually more reserved than other young couples your age.”

Zoro shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“Indeed,” Brook agreed. He paused for a moment before continuing. “And it’s interesting to see Sanji-san so...”

“Clingy?”

“Vulnerable,” Brook clarified.

That brought a tired smile to Zoro’s lips. He looked at Sanji, who was still snoring away on his shoulder, and he dropped his hand onto the top of Sanji’s head, ruffling his hair softly. “He’s gonna hate you for seeing him like this,” Zoro murmured, looking ahead and seeing Sunny in the distance.

“It is a rather undignified position,” Brook agreed, laughing softly.

Zoro groaned as they drew closer to the ship.

“Zoro-san? What’s wrong?”

Zoro stared up at Sunny. He then looked up at Brook. “I’m just realizing what a pain in the ass it’s going to be getting him up there.”

Brook laughed melodically while Zoro struggled to wake Sanji.

“Cook.”

Silence.

“Cook, wake up. We’re here.”

“Mmmm...”

“COOK!”

“Nooooo...” Sanji whined, nuzzling the front of Zoro’s shirt.

“AT LEAST MOVE ONTO MY BACK, YOU CLINGY BASTARD!”

“Nooo, I’m comfy...”

“ASSHOLE!”

Brook laughed. “Good night, Zoro-san,” he said as he made his way onto the ship.

“WHAT? BROOK? BROOK, GET BACK HERE! BROOK, COME BACK AND HELP ME!”

But Brook was already gone, leaving a drunk, angry, tired Zoro behind with a drunk, whiny, clingy Sanji who refused to let go. Zoro yelled up at the sky in frustration, the lion head on the front of the ship and the moon silent, indifferent witnesses to his troubles.

-

Note: Okay, I’m take nap. You guys can send more prompts if you so desire. I’ll even do stuff for other ships (if you know that I like them).

[firebrands]

a catalog of non-definitive acts | steve/tony

Steve Rogers/Tony Stark (mention of Bruce Wayne/Tony Stark), mature, 3.5k, jealousy at the gala or: panic, at the disco | previous ||  on ao3 

Tony adjusts his tie for the third time that night as he waits for Steve in the living room. Steve had drawn the short straw to accompany Tony to a charity gala—this time, for upgrading a hospital.

Tony hasn’t spoken to him much since he’d snuck out of the clinic and developed a new design for a jet. He tries not to read into the fact that Steve hasn’t tried to speak to him either. In any case, this song and dance isn’t anything new; they’ve been assigned to attend fancy dinners together, and tonight doesn’t strike Tony as anything different.

Except when the elevator doors open, Steve is standing inside wearing a deliciously cut suit, dark blue silk with black satin lapels. For a second, Tony is speechless, then he says: “Is that Ferragamo?”

Steve ducks his head. “Natasha helped,” he says, sounding sheepish.

“It looks good,” Tony says, trusting that he sounds offhand about it, trusting that his voice doesn’t betray the split second choice to say it not you. Steve holds the door open for Tony, and they settle into a calm silence as the elevator whizzes down to the building lobby. Happy’s waiting for them, a loan from Pepper that only ever happens for big galas like this one.

The silence continues in the Rolls, and for a brief moment Tony considers resting his hand on the seat, just to see what Steve would do. But it strikes him too much as a move meant for prom night, and they’re way past acting like teenagers. He wants to know where Steve went, why he didn’t come back, why he hasn’t sought out Tony since. He wants to know where he stands in all of this.

He wants to know if he means anything. If he could ever mean anything.

But he only has enough emotional bandwidth for about two hours at the gala tonight, and they have to present a united front. It’s no use getting into a discussion now, he tells himself. He won’t admit that he’s more afraid to find out the answers.

He and Steve stand side by side for photos at the entrance, then are hustled inside by an organizer. She tries to go through the main guests of the night (code for the largest potential donors), but Tony waves her away. It’s almost rude, that they don’t think he’d know. Steve, meanwhile, stays for the quick briefing, and Tony leaves them to begin mingling.

It’s from this brief act of hubris that Tony is greeted by the sight of guests crowding around a billionaire that is decidedly not him. Tony frowns, and then realization dawns on him.

“Brucie, baby,” he cries out, and the aforementioned billionaire turns to look at Tony, along with his gaggle of onlookers. Bruce looks immaculate, as always, and he pulls Tony into a tight hug.

“You know I hate it when you call me that,” he mutters, his breath hot against Tony’s ear.

“But you let everyone call you Brucie,” Tony whines as he pulls away and gives Bruce a once over.

Bruce rolls his eyes fondly and begins to steer Tony away from the crowd and towards the bar. If Tony knows Bruce Wayne (and he does, biblically) he knows too that Bruce was just as aware of the cameras raised up to document their greeting and wanted a brief moment of privacy.

“So where’s your date?” Bruce asks as he makes eye contact with the bartender and throws up two fingers.

Tony shakes his head in response. “No date, just Captain America.”

Bruce barks out a laugh. “Then you should’ve had a grander entrance.”

Tony frowns, because he’s right—in another world, a topsy turvy absurd universe, they could’ve walked into the gala hand in hand. They’d smile for the cameras, and Steve would duck his head down to whisper in Tony’s ear about how he was looking forward to going home already, and Tony would laugh, and lean even closer and Steve would reward him with a small kiss, in front of everyone, and—

“Well, where’s your date, then?” Tony snaps.

Bruce shrugs, and for a wild moment Tony is distracted by how broad his shoulders are. “Maybe I came to New York to find a date,” he says, nonchalant. Then he angles his body closer towards Tony. “Maybe I came to see my old friend,” he purrs.

Tony makes a show of rolling his eyes. “Fuck you, Wayne.”

“That an offer I hear?” Bruce’s grin is sharp as a knife’s edge, and Tony is briefly transported to his earlier days, wild and exuberant, hand in hand with Bruce as they partied like the world was ending.

Tony rolls his eyes. “Could you at least let me go through the room and secure some donations before you proposition me?”

Bruce sighs, exasperated. “Fine. Find me if you want to talk.” He winks at Tony then saunters away, almost immediately swallowed up by a new crowd of hangers-on.

Tony steels himself, finishes his drink, and steps into the crowd. His gaze is drawn to Steve, already mid-conversation, eyebrows drawn together in an earnest expression as he undoubtedly discusses the importance of their cause.

As the night drones on, Tony finds himself drawn more and more back to Bruce, who’s rested his hand just above Tony’s elbow and plied him with little plates of food for the third time now. It’s nice, to be doted on, and to be doted on publicly to boot. Tony’s in the middle of discussing the recent merger when he feels Bruce stand beside him, hors d'oeuvres in hand.

Tony turns and smiles, accepts the plate without any comment, and lets Bruce take the lead; the oil heiress Tony was speaking to moments prior is enamored by Bruce, and is evidently overjoyed at having both billionaire bachelors at her attention.

He focuses on chewing his food, watching Bruce in the corner of his eye. Again, he finds himself considering this option: it would be complicated, surely, but every relationship that involved Tony was invariably so. It could be easy, too, though. Somehow. As Tony licks sauce off his fingers, he thinks, well—maybe. It’s been years since he and Bruce had really spent time together, and then Bruce had disappeared and reappeared and Tony had done the same.

Donation secured, Bruce excuses himself and Tony from the conversation. “Smoke breakCigarette?” he asks, and Tony nods. They head out to the balcony slowly, stopping every few steps to greet someone or other. As Tony’s about to cross the threshold of the room, he feels like he’s being watched—not a new feeling, or an unwelcome one, but intense enough to give Tony pause. He turns, doing a quick survey of the room. He catches sight of Steve, surprisingly only a few feet away from him. Steve’s looking at a painting, his neck craned up to examine the work.

Tony furrows his brow and finally follows Bruce out into the cold night. “I thought you quit smoking,” Tony says, walking up to Bruce, who’s resting his forearms against the railing of the balcony.

“I did,” Bruce answers, casting a glance over his shoulder to meet Tony’s eyes. He jerks his head forward, beckoning Tony closer. “What would you say if I said that I just wanted to get you out here alone?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “I’d say that we’re above using cheap lines like that,” he says, bumping Bruce’s shoulder with his as he too surveys the city. “It’s a nice night out.”

“It is,” Bruce answers. There’s a bit of wistfulness to his voice, and if Tony didn’t know him better, he’d leave the observation at that. But there’s something else, underneath it all, and ain’t that a kick in the head? He wonders if he’s telegraphing the same things to Bruce. If, after all these years, they still know each other.

Bruce turns to Tony, a soft smile forming on his lips as Tony mirrors his movement. “So?” he says, running his hand down the lapel of Tony’s jacket.

“So,” Tony repeats, taking a step forward.

“You’re sure you don’t have a date tonight?” Bruce asks, fingers ghosting over the thin fabric above the arc reactor in Tony’s chest.

Tony shakes his head. “No.”

Bruce leans closer, his breath sending tingles down Tony’s spine. “Because tall, blonde, and buff over there seems to think otherwise,” he whispers.

Tony looks up with a start and turns to where Bruce has cocked his head. True enough, there’s Steve, and Tony catches the exact moment when his expression shifts from irritation to surprise.

Steve’s gaze meets his, and it should be comical, the way he looks like a deer in the headlights as he registers Tony’s gaze, but Tony’s too perplexed by that look Steve was giving Bruce to laugh.

Bruce, however, chortles.

At this, Steve turns abruptly and makes his way back inside.

A strange feeling roils in Tony’s belly, and he takes a step forward, intent on following after Steve. He catches himself and looks back at Bruce.

“Go on,” Bruce says. “I don’t think I can take him in a fight, anyway.”

“What do you mean you—“ Tony stops as realization dawns on him. “You!”

“He’s been staring at you half the night,” Bruce says, “Figured you both needed a push in the right direction.”

“Bruce Wayne I am forty years old. I don’t need you meddling—” Tony begins, upset at the feeling of his face heating with embarrassment.

Bruce shushes him, rests his hand on Tony’s back and begins to push him toward the door. “Just go, Tony,” he says.

So Tony does.

Just as the door to the balcony is about to close, Bruce yells after him: “And if it doesn’t work out, you have my number!”

Tony rolls his eyes and walks past all the onlookers. If he didn’t know better he’d think Bruce wasn’t just teasing him. But he does know, even if only a little bit, that this is all an act. They’re both too old to be playing each other like this and meaning it.

Tony finds Steve standing by the bar, two empty glasses in front of him and his phone screen lighting up his face. He’s looking intently at whatever’s on his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen.

“Nothing’s gonna happen if you don’t move your fingers,” Tony says, waggling his eyebrows a little as Steve looks up at him.

Steve smiles, or tries to: his eyebrows raise and his lips are tight as they curl up.

They stare at each other for a moment, and then Steve clears his throat. “Well. I’m going to go get a glass of water,” he says.

Tony nods pointedly at the glass in Steve’s hand, still half-full.

Steve’s smile tightens (and Tony didn’t think that would be possible), but then Tony’s gaze is drawn back to Steve’s hand when he hears a strange crunching sound. The next thing he knows, the glass is in fragments on the floor, the water pooled around it making everything glimmer.

“Oh,” Steve says, very softly, and then once again leaves Tony.

Tony turns to the onlookers, sheepish smile on his face, before he makes his own exit.

  The lobby of the hotel is mercifully empty at this hour, and Tony situates himself a few seats away from the exit. There are a few paps still around, sure, but he knows them and they know him and there isn’t really anything newsworthy anymore about Tony Stark hunkering down in a hotel lobby. Still, there’s the cursory stolen shot. Tony doesn’t even flip them off this time.

He’s typing out his message to Happy about swinging ‘round when he hears familiar laughter—

And there’s Bruce Wayne, his arm around the waist of what Tony the oil heiress he was speaking to earlier. At this, the photographers take notice and stand, crowding around them for what’ll inevitably be another tired headline about who Bruce is bringing home.

Still, Bruce manages to catch Tony’s eye, and Tony knows—he knows how it goes. There’s a look Bruce gives him that won’t telegraph the same emotion in photos, a small turn down his lips: What happened?

Tony sighs, shrugs, and turns back to his phone. Happy’s ETA is in two minutes, and his phone buzzes again with a message from Bruce: Ok so maybe i can take him. U need me to? A small smile forms on Tony’s lips, affection warming him up from the inside.

Nah. can fight my own battles now. I am iron man, u know

Bruce replies almost immediately, which makes Tony feel a little guilty for the woman ostensibly sharing the back seat with Bruce.

You’ll always be Tony to me.

Tony’s about to let his sentimentality get the best of him when he feels a presence by his side. He glances over and sees Steve, hands in his pockets, looking at the decor of the lobby like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

Annoyance surges inside Tony so quickly that he suddenly has half a mind to ask Bruce to swing back and pick him up, maybe the three of them can have fun and Steve can go fuck himself—but, as if on cue, Happy arrives.

Tony closes his eyes and counts to ten. He’s never had to do this before, hold himself back, keep quiet, but he knows he has to this time. When Tony finally opens his eyes he’s marginally calmer, but the feeling evaporates at the sight of Steve holding the door open for him.

“I can do it myself,” he snaps, and for a second he and Steve share a shocked silence at his tone. Then Tony gets inside the car and slams the door shut, and turns to look out the window once Steve settles in beside him.

They’re quiet in the car, something jangly playing on the radio as they move through traffic. Tony focuses his attention on every single shop sign they pass.

He startles when he feels Steve’s hand on his knee, and Tony turns as Steve reaches out to clasp Tony’s hand in his. He hadn’t noticed that Steve had put the privacy screen up, and he lets out a breath he’d sucked in when he’s looked to check—and isn’t it absolutely insane that now he’s the one worried about who’ll see?

Tony’s thoughts snap back to Steve when he tightens his grip on Tony’s hand, as if asking for his attention. He looks up at Steve, who looks at him so earnestly it makes Tony want to scream, makes him want to tear out his hair, because he looks so fond.

Steve smiles, small and shy, then bites his lip, and Tony watches all of these emotions cross Steve’s face hungrily, the feeling informed by a strange fear that tomorrow he might not be allowed to do this. Maybe that’s it—he’s afraid of losing whatever tenuous hold he has on Steve, is afraid of Steve tiring of him, the way everyone has. The way they always will.

Steve stops chewing on his lip and it’s pretty and pink now, so Tony can’t help but stare. The shy smile returns to Steve’s lips, and he tugs at Tony’s hand, pulling him closer.

Tony follows, and lets out a small sigh when Steve finally kisses him.

Steve deepens the kiss almost immediately, hand sliding up Tony’s thigh then gripping his hip, and next thing Tony knows he’s on Steve’s lap, grinding down on him, and god he’s never been so thankful to have top of the line as his standard, because this car’s got to have some kind of noise cancelling feature or something and then Steve grinds up against him, their cocks sliding together through their pants, and Tony thinks, half-hysterically, is a car really top of the line if there’s no lube compartment?

Tony’s so busy kissing Steve that he doesn’t register the car slowing down, but apparently Steve does, because all of the sudden he’s deposited back to his side of the seat, tie only a little askew.

Steve’s in the middle of tucking his shirt back into his pants when Happy knocks on the screen, sounding a bit tentative when he says, “you alright back there boss?”

“All good,” Tony croaks, throwing another cursory glance back at Steve, who pulls angrily at his bowtie and stuffs it into his pocket as he exits the car. His cheeks are flushed, and there’s a frown that starts in his eyebrows and ends at the pinch of his lips.

Ask anyone and he’d probably just told Tony off; they’d probably just shouted at each other in the back of the car.

“Thanks, Happy,” Tony says, waving as he walks backward towards the elevator. It’s a good thing his pants are dark, and Steve keeps his head down as they walk toward the elevator.

They’re so silent, Tony fights back the urge to whistle as they wait for the elevator.

Once they’re inside the elevator, though, all bets are off; Steve pushes him flush against the wall and kisses him hungrily, again, as if no time had passed between them.

Tony’s about to shove his hand down Steve’s pants when the door dings open. Steve straightens up, and Tony’s about to kiss him again, keep things going into his penthouse, except—it’s not his penthouse.

It’s Steve’s floor.

Tony’s stomach sinks with understanding, and he tries valiantly not to slouch into himself. How could this be happening? Why was Steve doing this? No one had seen them, and no one would know if Steve spent a few more hours with him in the penthouse; god knows they’ve done it before.

Steve leans forward and presses a soft kiss to Tony’s cheek. “Good night, Tony,” he says, and there’s a strange, sad look in his eye that makes Tony grab Steve’s hand.

Steve looks down at Tony’s fist. He doesn’t say anything. So Tony lets go, swallows down all his questions as he lets the doors slide shut, gaze never leaving the sight of Steve’s retreating back.

[asofterfan]

Winter Winds

Chapter 3: Blood in the Cut

Previous ~ Next

Summary: Poor Toby is head over heels but he keeps stepping in every. Single. Landmine. 

This would be easier if Remy wasn’t so convinced that everyone was out to get them.

Warnings: drinking

Remy hated the quiet.

When it was quiet she could hear her thoughts and that was always a mood killer. But the volume in her head varied from night to night. Sometimes she could just pull on a pair of headphones or blast music from her computer in the comfort of her own apartment until she fell asleep.

Other nights she needed more.

There were a good number of bars and clubs in the city and Remy had frequented most of them. But Cityscape was her favorite. A black light club where she could hide in the dark and the neon glow; Big enough to be impressive but compact enough to force people to press together on the dance floor and around the bar. The speakers flanking the DJ seemed to pulse with the bass, the noise powerful and deafening, and Remy loved nothing more than dancing right in front of them.

Her hair was pulled back into her usual high ponytail, and when the black lights flashed you could see the glow of streaks of paint she had sloppily applied to the strands, drips and splatters running down the back of her neck because she had been too impatient to wait for it to dry before jumping into the fray. After a few drinks she couldn’t remember whatever thoughts she was trying to ignore. All she could think about was the way she could feel the bass in her bones and how the techno cords seemed to buzz in her blood. Her teeth gleamed in the black lights as she laughed in ecstasy.

Eventually, Remy could feel her buzz starting to wane, and that just wouldn’t do. Reluctantly, she gave up her spot in front of the left speaker and began to weave her way to the bar.

It’s crowded, just like everywhere else in Cityscape, and Remy presses her way between two groups until she can lean against the bar, batting her eyes once she manages to get the bartender’s attention.

Smirking, the woman makes her way over, “What can I get for you?”

“Tequila soda, please and thanks,” Remy winks, just for good measure, and the bartender chuckles, getting started on the simple drink.

The lights above the bar are standard fluorescent, and they feel harsh on Remy’s eyes after so long on the dark, black lit dance floor. Taking her sunglasses out of her pocket, she fiddles with them, not wanting to put them on, but liking having the option. Once her drink arrives, Remy decided to take some time to sip it slowly, instead of just downing it. She was feeling a little worn out from all the dancing anyways, so a break wasn’t such a bad idea.

Turning to lean her back against the bar, Remy glaces lazily around the bar. On one side is a group of young women, all laughing together, excitedly talking about some finished project and how they simply must do shots to celebrate. They’re energetic, and frequently bump into Remy in their enthusiasm, but she doesn’t mind. To the other side was a couple making out excessively, and Remy cared a little more when they started infringing too much on her space.

“Hey, if you want me involved in your sexy times you have to buy me dinner first,” Remy snarked, shoving them roughly away from where they were pressing into her side. The man turned to glare at her, the woman pouting indignantly. Remy only raised an eyebrow, “Those are my terms, take it or leave it. Preferably the latter.”

Before either stranger could respond, a voice sounded from behind them, “Remy??”

Blinking in surprise, all three turn as a short man with bright orange hair and bright pink stripes on his cheeks like warpaint came barreling over, pushing past the confused couple to stand in front of Remy, “It is you! I thought I recognized that sass!”

“Uhhh…” Remy stared in blatant confusion as the couple resumed their makeout session now that they weren’t being bothered, “Do I know you, hon?”

The man grinned, his black lipstick stark against his teeth, throwing his arms out excitedly and smacking a few strangers in the process, “It’s Toby! I came in for a tattoo consultation yesterday!”

The only response he receives is a blank stare. “Uh,” his smile falters, “I’m getting the quote with the ambiguous border on my back?”

“...”

“...October?”

“Ooooooh!” Remy’s eyes light up with recognition, “Doc Oct! Right, right, right. Sorry, it’s been forever-”

“It’s been one day.”

“-Time is relative, hon,” Remy winked, taking a long sip of her drink.

Toby laughed, shaking his head, “Of course it is. This is crazy, what a small world!”

“And a smaller club,” leaning her head against her hand, she twirled her straw in her drink, “Shouldn’t you stick with your posse? Wouldn’t want you getting trampled in the pit,” she smirked.

“Ha, ha,” rolling his eyes, Toby made himself comfortable against the bar, “I was supposed to meet up with my brother and some of his friends, but he bailed on me last second.” He glanced around the bar, “What about you? You got a hot date hiding somewhere?”

“I’m married to my work.”

Toby’s eyes lit up, glinting with mischief, “Oh, well lucky me, since clients are part of work.”

“I’m off the clock, gurl.”

“Everyone takes work home sometimes,” Toby winked.

“I can already tell you're more work than you're worth.”

“Ooooh, so cold!” He put a hand over his heart dramatically, but he was laughing, his body language carefree and relaxed.

Remy found herself laughing too.

“Alright, well if we’re both here alone,” Toby drawled with a smirk, “then how about we stick together? Use the buddy system. You did say you worried about me getting trampled,” he pointed out.

“How dare you use my kind and merciful personality against me.”

“Look into your heart, and say you’ll dance with me,” holding a hand out, Toby fluttered his eyelashes appeasingly.

Remy gave an exaggerated sigh, “I suppose I cannot in good faith leave you by yourself to be smothered by a hoard of average sized adults,” she tried to sound indifferent, but her lips quirked up as she downed the last of her drink and took the man’s hand. It was always fun when she got to dance with someone. Toby laughed, pulling her onto the dance floor.

“I owe you my life,” he winked. As they entered the crowd, Remy stepped in front, pulling them closer to the speakers.

There was no such thing as ‘good’ or ‘bad’ dancing at a club- everyone just swayed, or jumped up and down, and it was dark and the lights were flashing, so it wasn’t like you could really judge a person’s moves anyway. But Toby was a fun dancer- enthusiastic and energetic, and occasionally tugging Remy’s arm to twirl her around, his arms reaching ridiculously high just to reach over her head, never failing to make Remy laugh and giggle at his shenanigans. She doesn’t even notice her buzz wearing off again, too distracted by the music, and the bodies, and Toby constantly pulling her into some absurd dance move. She hasn’t had this much fun in awhile.

Remy is still laughing when Toby moves a little closer and puts his hands on her hips. Her smile falters, but only for a moment. It’s not a big deal, after all. They’re just dancing, and at a club like this to music like this a little physicality was pretty much guaranteed. Besides, his hands were warm.

But then she feels his hands start to travel lower down around her back, and that never failed to put a bit of ice in her voice. She ignores the way her heart sinks, the way her carefree happiness from mere moments ago starts to bleed out of her, and wraps her hands around around his wrists, pulling them away from her body even as she leaned in to grin coldly right next to Toby’s ear.

“Think twice.”

Releasing his hands, Remy braces herself. This was the part where Toby would get offended and storm off, or grab Remy a little tighter, or call her all the names she’s been called a million times before. It’s frustrating, but she’s learned how to let it roll off her back.

However, she is not prepared for Toby to hold his hands up apologetically, mouthing a clear ‘sorry!’... and then start doing the macarena.

And even though she’s confused, and still feeling some of the residual ice thawing in her veins, Remy bursts out laughing. The dance doesn’t even match up to the beat of whatever dubstep monstrosity is currently playing, but Toby owns it, if anything only exaggerating the movements once he sees Remy’s reaction, grinning victoriously as she has to clutches her sides from laughing. Toby holds a hand out again, raising an eyebrow in question, and Remy shakes her head in amusement before taking his hand and allowing him to lead her in a over-the-top waltz through the crowd.

Eventually they exited the pit, finding themselves next to the bar once more, both of them laughing and giggling.

“Boi, you are something else,” Remy giggled, pushing some loose strands of hair from her face.

Toby grinned hopefully, “In a good way or a bad way?”

“TBD,” smirking, Remy moved back towards the bar.

“Why must you hurt me so?” Toby cried dramatically, but his lips still twitched towards a smile. He followed after Remy, tilting his head in consideration before sliding next to Remy with a smile, “You know, if you wanted cheaper drinks, I’ve got some beers at my place,” He leaned against the bar and smiled up at her hopefully.

Remy sighed to herself. Well, it was fun while it lasted.

“Not cheap enough, hon,” She said flatly.

Toby blinked in surprise stuttering as he tried to backtrack, “Oh, no I wasn’t- I just-”

“Oooh, I love it when people ‘just’,” Remy purred, leaning forward on her arms to look at Toby with sharp eyes, “It’s a nice little downplay. Makes everything so innocent, right? How could I argue when you just.” She stretches the last word, letting it hiss through her smile.

The shorter punk looks like he’s considering his words carefully, but Remy straightens up and turns away before he has a chance to speak, “This club is too crowded. I’ll email you soon about your design,” she waves her hand dismissively as she stalks away. She think she hears him call her name behind her, but she ignores it.

When she gets home, she has one more shot before bed, curling up under her blankets and ignoring the makeup and paint still plastered to her skin. That was Tomorrow-Remy’s problem. Shifting to get comfortable on the old, worn mattress, she allowed herself a hum of contentment as the chill she’d felt when she left the club dissipated. She pushed her face into her pillow. All things considered, she figured it hadn’t been a bad night.

~~~~~~~

As usual, Remy woke up the next morning regretting her decision to sleep in her makeup. Taking a longer shower than usual, Remy cleaned herself of all the paint and makeup caked to her skin, and even ran a little conditioner through her neglected hair.

The extra steps to her morning routine meant she walked into work thirty-five minutes late, but Ali just sighed and waved her off. Luckily the day was pretty quiet, no walkins or long sessions, and by the time Virgil slipped in at 3:30, Remy had switched from coffee to tea.

“Hey girl heyyy,” Remy waved as the teen made his way over.

“Hey,” Virgil’s voice was soft, and he seemed a little more solemn than usual, not that that was uncommon.

Remy glanced at the door behind him, “Where’s the nerd herd?”

Virgil shrugged, “Doing their own thing today.”

“Hm. That sounds fake but okay,” she replied, gesturing for Virgil to take a seat next to her at the table pushed against the wall in the front entry room that she had commandeered- the desk in her station too small for her to spread out her sketchbook and notepads and computer the way she wanted to. She cleared off a spot as he sat down, “It’s your lucky day, I got a project for you.”

The teen perked up a little, “For real?”

“Yup. New guy came in for a back piece and I wanted your opinion on it.”

“What’s he want?”

Remy slid over her notes from the appointment, “He wants this quote, centered between the shoulder blades, with a design framing it.”

Virgil read over the quote, “What kind of design was he thinking?”

“He wasn’t solid on anything in particular,” she shrugged, “He said maybe tree branches with some leaves or something.”

The teenager snorted, “That’s not cliche at all,” he drawled sarcastically.

“It’s his money, I’m not getting paid to judge,” Remy shrugged.

“No, you do that for free,” Virgil teased.

“My sass is a gift and you know it,” she smirked, winking. Virgil snorted, shaking his head fondly as he looked back down at the tattoo artist’s notes. Humming thoughtfully, he grabbed a pen and started sketching loosely on the page.

Remy slurped loudly on her drink, tapping away at her laptop while the teen worked quietly. It had been forever since she updated her calendar, plus she had a backlog of emails from people who wanted consultations, so she figured she could pretend to be a responsible adult and take care of that.

It was maybe half an hour later that the peace was broken when the bell above the door chimed, announcing someone’s arrival. Remy glanced up nonchalantly, only to choke on her drink as she did a double take.

Toby smirked, raising his hand in a half salute, “Sup!”

Remy coughed, clearing the liquid from her throat as she raised an eyebrow, “Uh, is this some kind of glitch in the Matrix because I KNOW you don’t have an appointment today, hon.”

The man shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets as he waltzed over, “I know, I was just in the neighborhood and wanted to stop by and say hey.”

“Well now you’ve said that and more,” Remy snarked, trying to hide her confusion. ‘Say hey’? This was the same dude she blatantly snubbed the night before, right? Right? Oh God, she hadn’t been that drunk, had she? No, no she'd barely been tipsy, it was definitely him. This was definitely the guy she turned down and snapped at.

October laughed, “I suppose I have. But I think I can afford to go off script.”

So what the hell was he doing here?

“Depends on who’s writing the script,” Remy leaned back, crossing her arms with a smirk, “some cue cards wouldn’t hurt, unless you’re trying to seem like a stalker.”

Virgil glanced between the two, pulling his sketch to his chest to hide it from the stranger as Toby gasped sarcastically, “Oh, right through the heart,” he smiled, dropping into a seat across from the other two, finally turning to Virgil, “And who is this? I’m Toby,” he held his hand out, but the teen only glared at it suspiciously.

Remy rolled her eyes, reaching out to high five Toby’s outstretched hand, bringing his attention back to the tattoo artist, “This sad boi is Virgil. He’s kind of an apprentice here.” She turned to grin at Virgil, “And this hippie is October.”

“…Seriously?” Virgil grinned slowly, eyeing the man sitting across from him.

“I can show you the photocopy of his id if you don’t believe me,” Remy laughed.

“Gee, I wonder when he was born.”

“Gurl, I’ll give you one guess.”

“If he takes off that jacket how many of his tattoos are going to be Halloween related?”

“Enough,” Remy winked, and she and Virgil snickered as Toby huffed indignantly.

“Oh please, my aesthetic is the best and you know it,” Despite the soft blush on his cheeks, the man unzipped his jacket, sliding it off to show his ink, “You guys wish you were as cool as October,” He put his hands on his hips, jutting his chin out defiantly.

“I guess things are usually pretty chill that time of year,” the tattooist chimed in jokingly.

But Virgil got distracted by one of the tattoos peaking above the neckline of Toby’s tank top, “Do you have a Nightmare Before Christmas tatt?”

“Hell yeah!” He pulled his shirt down a bit, revealing more of the classic spiral hill, “You a fan?”

The teen nodded, “Yeah, it’s definitely a fav,” he smiled, “I like protagonists who fuck up. Makes them more relatable.”

“I totally get that. Plus, Sally’s look is iconic.”

“Definitely,” Virgil chuckled.

Toby glanced around the shop casually, but seemed to freeze when his eyes landed on Remy’s station. Remy furrowed her brows as she could practically see a light bulb going off in the man’s head. But before she could turn to see what he was looking at or question him about it, Virgil spoke up in realization, “Wait, October, fall aesthetic dude…” He turned to Remy, “Is this the new client you were talking about?”

“Yup,” Remy popped the end of the word nonchalantly.

“Oh, you talking about me?” Toby wiggled his eyebrows, returning his attention to the two artists.

“Yeah, Virge is gonna save you from a boring tattoo. You’re welcome.”

Virgil’s eyes widened a bit, clutching the notebook a little tighter in his hands, “I mean, i-it would have been fine I’m sure. Not to insult your, your ideas or anything, I just had an idea a-and, and I thought maybe…” the teens voice got softer and softer as he rambled.

“Hey, no worries, kid,” Toby laughed, a hint of concern in his eyes that surprised Remy, “I’m glad to get some help, I had trouble thinking of anything other than the usual, you know? So any critiques are appreciated.”

Humming in response, Virgil nodded, still not looking up at either adult, “Well, I’ll… I’ll sketch some stuff and have Remy send it to you later to see. I… I don’t have anything done yet.”

Toby nodded, smiling softly, “Sounds good. I look forward to seeing what you come up with,” He looked over at Remy, batting his eyelashes, “I’m glad to be in such capable hands.”

Remy felt her eye twitch. She wished she had her sunglasses on. Toby could bond with Virgil all he wanted, the kid could always use more friends, and Remy could already tell they would get along like a house fire. But she didn’t need Toby trying that with her. She was done with that shit.

“Yeah, they’re capable of slapping a bitch too. So why don’t you run along until you’re actually scheduled to bask in my presence, mmkay?”

Virgil glanced over, confused at Remy’s suddenly cold tone, but if anything, October’s gaze only softened, “I suppose I should let you get back to work. But this was fun!” He stood, pulling his jacket back on, “Maybe I’ll see you around sometime,” He winked at Remy, who couldn’t hide her dumbfounded expression at his words. Giving Virgil a quick wave, he exited the shop, the bell chiming behind him.

“What… was that about?” Virgil questioned.

“Nothing,” Remy recomposed herself, flipped her hair, “Just a clingy client. Now, where were we…” She took her notebook back, focusing on the different designs she needed to work on and ignoring the dull ache in her chest that she refused to name.

~~~~~

For a few days, Remy was able to push the weirdass client from their mind. Finally clearing out their email meant a week full of consultations and even more full of annoyed clients complaining about “why can’t you schedule me sooner? Can’t you just fit me in somewhere? It’s not like my tattoo will take that long” and then Remy scheduling them even further out out of spite while Ali sighed heavily in the background.

Virgil was hanging around a bit more, which was nice, but the others punks weren’t, which was odd. But the kid was working hard, helping around the shop and sketching concepts for Remy to critique, so there wasn’t really anything to complain about.

The hectic week meant Remy had only gone clubbing once, not even bar hopping the way they often did, instead choosing to go home and crash on their own. They also spent a little more time at Starbucks in the morning, downing one venti coffee in the shop so that they could get another to take with them.

That’s where they were currently- waiting in line to get their second coffee before heading back to work. They had two actual tattoo appointments today, which was nice because that meant that after today that would be two less people they’d have to deal with. The Starbucks wasn’t particularly crowded, the morning rush having already passed earlier, but Remy still didn’t pay attention to the people coming and going.

“Oh my gosh, Remy!”

Which was a mistake, apparently, as Remy whipped their head around to see a familiar orange haired punk standing excitedly in the doorway. The tattoo artist could only gape as Toby trotted over happily, “Holy shit, what are the odds! How are you?”

“I-...” What? What was happening right now? “What are you doing here?”

“Getting coffee, duh,” Toby smirked, “I work at the shelter a few blocks down, and our coffee machine broke the other day and no one’s replaced it yet. So here I am! But more importantly, here you are,” he grinned up at the taller punk, “I thought I was gonna have to wait for your email to talk to you again, but it looks like the universe is on my side.”

“I think it’s less the universe liking you and more the universe hating me,” Remy rolled their eyes, turning away as the barista called for the next person in line. “Two venti coffees pleaseandthanks,” this morning was going to require more caffeine than usual.

But as the barista rang them up, Toby jumped up to the counter, “And a grande americano please!”

“Excuse me, I’m not-”

“It’s on me!” Toby squeezed his way in front of Remy, holding out some cash for the confused looking barista, who took it with a shrug after a moment.

“WhatwhatWHAT are you doing?” Remy crossed their arms in annoyance, “What, are you trying to bribe me? What are your terms? The answer is no regardless but I need to know how vicious to be.”

Toby laughed as they both moved away from the counter to get out of the way of the next customers, “It’s not a bribe, it’s…” he tilted to head side to side as he considered his words, “It’s positive reinforcement.” he decided with a smooth smile.

“...Pardon?”

“Yeah,” he continued mischievously, “Surely you can’t be annoyed at chatting with me if you get free coffee out of it, right? So now you have a positive association with talking to me! So maybe we can talk more?” He asked hopefully, handing Remy their coffees after the barista handed them to him.

Remy narrowed their eyes suspiciously, “...You’re weird,” they stated, taking the offered coffee as Toby let out a laugh.

“Does that mean it’s working?”

“It means you’re on thin ice but you haven’t fallen through yet,” Remy deadpanned, taking a long sip of one of their coffees. “I’m going to work now.”

“That’s fair,” he responded coolly, still smirking victoriously, “I’ve should get to work too. But I’ll see you around,” he waved after Remy as they moved quickly towards the exit.

“I hope not!” They called back. Toby shook his head fondly as he watched them leave. 

This was going to be interesting.

[kat-hawke]

Interviewing the Hawke at Sea

► Name ➔ “Alexa Imortis.”

“Kat Hawke.”

► Are you single? ➔ “Depends on who you ask, really. I am engaged, single, in the market, in an open relationship, courting a noble.. One really gets lost in all the story telling, hm?”

“Certainly feels like it most days.”

► Are you happy? ➔ “I suppose that I am happy enough, considering the circumstances. We are in the middle of a war, and I am still alive and relatively in one piece.”

“As the Admiral said; I’m alive, all my limbs still attached, soul in my body, avoided unwanted offspring. So, sure, I’m as happy as one can be in my position.”

► Are you angry? ➔ “Exhausted, is perhaps a better word to describe how I feel relationship to my anger. It comes and goes, though I rarely express how truly furious I am towards a situation.”

“No’ at the momen’. Ya’ll know when I am.”

NINE FACTS

► Birth Place ➔ “Kul Tiras, Brennadam.”

“Gilneas, if that wusn’ obvious enough. City outskirts.”

“I think your accent gives that away…”

“Ya’ think?”

► Hair Color ➔ “Onyx.”

“Raven black. Ya’ have eyes do ya’ no’?”

“So many different words to describe one color.”

“She wus hotter as a blonde.”

► Eye Color ➔ “Persian blue.”

“Amber.”

► Birthday ➔ “April fifth.”

“June thirtieth.”

► Mood ➔ “Praying that this will end. Worried about the boys at home, it’s been long enough for them to get into trouble.”

“Annoyed.”

► Gender ➔ “...Female.”

“Maybe they did no’ wish to assume?”

“They might ask who is the more masculine out of the two of us next, you watch.”

“Draw straws?”

► Summer or winter ➔ “Winter. The trees are barren and snow is pure, there is a comfort in the silence that lingers after the first change of seasons.”

“I lost sensitivity to temperature sum time ago. Seasons don’ matter to me anymore. Easier to hike the trails in the summer, howeva.”

► Morning or afternoon ➔ “The break of dawn. As hours go by people tend to grow more lazy, and less productive. Try getting any shred of work done after one in the afternoon, it’s bloody impossible with the Harbormaster.”

“Always wus an early riser. As I’m sure she can attest to, she complained about it once.”

► Are your parents still married ➔ “Yes, happily enough. Then again my father long ago lost his spine, and my mother tends to remind him of that fact frequently enough. They have had their quarrels over their years, however, due to my fathers inability to keep it in his drawers.”

“Well, they’re both dead, so…” She simply shrugs. “Granted m’mother remarried much to my disapproval. Still, all dead though.”

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

► Are you in love? ➔ “Yes. Though my commitments have shifted about as of late… I think a lot of my problems tend to revolve around the fact that I love certain qualities about many, many...many, people.”

“Mmm, while I don’ disagree, it’s a question better suited fer the Diplomat I think. I’m in love with m’job, if that counts.”

“Makes two of us, put that down as my relationship.”

► Do you believe in love at first sight? ➔ “No. It’s absurd. Something that is frequently told to children in order to promote procreation.”

“Only in nobility… Lust at first sight is quite real, any tavern in Stormwind will prove that.”

► Who ended your last relationship? ➔ “Do they really, truly, ever end?”

“Mmm, do they? Considerin’ m’last two haven’ actually ended per se, I’d say the last actual end wus caused by death.”

► Have you ever broken someone’s heart? ➔ “Most likely, though no one has been upset enough to say anything personal about it.”

“Lost track on that one. No’ my fault they don’ take the hint.”

► Are you afraid of commitments? ➔ “Mmmm…. Afraid? No. Hesitant to fully commit? Maybe. There is something to be said about remaining in perfect lingo. No one can actually hurt you that way.”

“I agree with her, to a point. Love no one, and no one can hurt ya’. Made that mistake once before.”

► Have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ “Kat and I hug all the time. Cannot separate us, truly.”

“Oh, are we spillin’ the secrets now? Alright, luv’, game on.”

► Have you ever had a secret admirer? ➔ “There’s nothing secret about those who admire. Even if one is shy with their affections, they typically come around.”

“She ain’t wrong. They niver stay secret fer long, always have to make it known, unfortunately. It’s worse when they want to try and ‘fix ya’. Like we’re broken or sumthin’...”

► Have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ “No. I do not set myself up for failure in trusting in others to meet my exceedingly high expectations. If given the opportunity, they will disappoint.”

“No. Why set m’self up in such a predicamen’? I skipped a chance to adopt a puppy, that hurt, but I wouldn’ say I wus heartbroken.”

SEVEN TRAITS: “Describe each other.”

disorganized / organized / in between. “Kat is organized, though I cannot say that I have spent a lot of time in her office. The short time I did spend there, we were in a bit of a tiff. Closest to rage that Kat has ever seen me act, I believe.”

“Alexa is one of the most organized people I’ve met, aside from her love life.”

“It’s organized enough, just not in a way that anyone would expect…”

patient / impatient / in between. “The Director is a delightful mix of both patience and impatience. Idiocy is not tolerated, in any shape or form, but recent events have proven Kat’s behavior beyond the threshold of the patient.”

“Mmm… Patience comes with the job both her and I have, though I’ve witness her in a few impatient scenarios, felt it too…” She clears her throat. “A nice mix of in between. Fer the record, recent events are puttin’ us both past the threshold.”

outspoken / reserved / in between. “Reserved. Kat doesn’t really go out of her way to interact with strangers, unless she wants something. This typically includes information, and namely only that.”

“See. Like I said, she knows me more than she should. I would say Alexa is a bit outspoken. I’ve watched her move through a tavern enough times, work a person or two.”

empathetic / unempathetic / in between. “I would say that we both are not highly empathetic people. Kat is more emotional than I, though it is not by much.”

“I will agree with that. No’ a lot of room fer bullshit in our profession. No’ goin’ to comment on the emotional part though.”

optimistic / pessimistic / in between. “Bit of a glass is half empty type of person, you are. “

“Glass of whiskey?”

“Glass is fully empty in that case.”

“See, she knows me! But, I’d say yer a bit more of an optimist than I, narrow margin though. Pessimist is just wot an optimist calls a realist.”

hard-working / lazy / in between. “I do not think there is even a question to Kat’s work ethic. We are both far too devoted to our jobs, to a degree that most would consider unhealthy. I find it wise to remind them that we are what protects them from the mongrels of the Horde.”

“What even is a day off fer us?”

loyal / disloyal / unknown / in between. “Loyal both in a professional sense and relational. The fact that Kat is even sitting here, after our falling out, is proof enough of how Kat values our relationship. If you need an example of loyalty to the Alliance, I would remind you of my previous statement. She does not falter nor rest when it comes to protecting our people.”

“Thank ya’, luv’. Now, without gettin’ any further into the relationship line… I don’ believe Alexa houses a single disloyal bone in her body. As she said, I am here, but so is she, take that as ya’ will. I remember early on after we met, she always carried her papers. Her authority on land wus  marginal yes, but that didn’t stop her from actin’ on behalf of the Alliance. Professional and relational fer her as well.”

SIX CHOICES

► Love or lust ➔ “Lust. Love tends to attach too many strings, emotional bonds, problems. It is simply easier without the complications that people bring to the table when romance is brought into the equation.”

“She says that, but yet…” She turns her hands over in her lap with a shrug. “Still, she ain’t wrong. It’s worse when people get more invested than ya’ are, messy too. M’friends think it’s no’ healthy but, woteva, they’re married anyways.”

► Cats or Dogs ➔ “Dogs.”

“Dogs.”

► Lemonade or iced tea ➔ “What type of question is that? Rum. It’s either water, or rum.”

“Can I spike the tea with whiskey? Does that still count?”

“No.”

“Well fuck ya’ then, who made ya’ the beverage police?”

“It’s in my contract, didn’ you know?”

► A few best friends or many regular friends ➔ “A few best friends. It’s easier to keep an eye on them that way.”

“I prefer more of a...web. Everyone has their place and purpose, sum more than others.”

► Wild night out or romantic night in ➔ “I’m never involved with anything that can be described as...wild.”

“Yes? She’s also lyin’.”

“Name one time.”

“The one ni- How about we just keep it family friendly on the readin’...”

► Day or night ➔ “Night.”

“Agreed. I work better in the dark.”

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

► Been caught sneaking out? ➔ “No. I do not sneak, therefore I do not get caught.”

“Yer so full of shit. But, I wus caught a few times.”

“I walk right out the front door.”

“Noticed- movin’ on.”

► Fallen down/up the stairs? ➔ “Certainly. Get too much drink in me and I will do both at the same time.”

“I’ll say the same. No further commen’.”

► Stolen something? ➔ “That is absurd.”

“Way too much to count.”

► Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ “More than it is healthy, I am sure. Both in frequency and volume. The next promotion, to not be like my father in my habits, the Diplomat to choose. Yet here we are, I’m still holding my breath on all of the unlikely scenarios. Maybe if all three happen at once…”

Kat just blinks at Alexa. “Right… I went over a month with no alcohol, no human contact, no real food, no alcohol, and no proper lodgin’. There’s yer answer.”

“Right, we get it, you could not have a drink. Light above be blessed that you were sober for a month.”

“Bite me.”

“Bend over.”

“Temptin’. Ahem. Movin’ on…”

► Wanted to disappear? ➔ “No. Not literally. Though since my evenings spent with Terra I do frequently wonder what I would be like in another profession. Maybe a baker of some sorts.”

“Have a few times in the past. Still can if I want to. Did ya’ say a baker? Yeah, okay…”

FOUR PREFERENCES

► Smile or eyes? ➔ “Smile. You can usually tell if people ae lyin’ by how they pose their words. If they falter, or trip, their embarrassment is commonly displayed.”

“Eyes don’ lie as much as lips do. Became quite familiar with that over the year…”

► Shorter or Taller? ➔ “Shorter. Much easier to pin.”

“No real preference, though in the Admiral’s case, taller. She made a fair point. No further comment on that.”

► Intelligence or Attraction? ➔ “Intelligence leads directly to any type of attraction. Unless you mean beauty, hm? A pretty face will certainly get you far in life.”

“She’s no’ wrong… Ya’ sure ya’ didn’t mean to ask intelligence or beauty?”

► Hook-up or Relationship? ➔ “As of recent it has been relationships, everyone is rather obsessed with finding a way to make me stick around. Even if it is beating around the bush, in a manner of words. Prior to this last year? Hook-ups. Much easier, less strings attached, and it let me avoid most of the drama I am now right in the middle of.”

“Except she’s the one that wanted to stick around.”

THREE ABOUT FRIENDS

► Do you consider all of your friends good friends? ➔ “Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.”

“Absolutely no’.”

► Who is your best friend? ➔ “My brother, Viktor. He is one of the few that I could trust with any type of fuckery.”

“Rinnessa, she’s been like a little sister to me since childhood. Jess and Xylia I met in the city.”

► Have you ever lost a good friend? ➔ “I am in the process of losing one as we speak.”

“That statemen’ likely applies to both of us.”

TWO FOR FAMILY

► Do you and your family get along? ➔ “All of us besides V. The youngest is bar far the most difficult. Tends to love crime, sticky fingers… reminds me a bit of Kat, to be honest.”

“I don’ much care fer corpses, so- Well that’s just rude. Perhaps I need to meet this sister if we have so much in common.”

► Do you see your family often? ➔ “At least once every other week, since I have returned from the mainland.”

“Again.... All dead.”

ONE WHO KNOWS ALL

► Who knows everything about you? ➔ “My mother, though you would not expect it. We are not close, in any meaning of the word, but she seems to understand what I am going through without myself ever speaking a word.”

“Nobody. That’s the point. Everyone has a piece of the puzzle though, sum more than others. Alexa certainly learned more than she should have in our time together, to be honest.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means I trust ya’. Take the compliment.”

ONE MORE FOR THE ROAD

► Would you say you have a messed up life? ➔ “No. My life is a reflection of my choices, my relationships, and my consequences. The Light guides my path, yet I am an entity who decides what direction I will take. All that has been done, and all that will come of it is my accomplishment.”

Kat rolls her eyes at the mention of the Light guiding one's path. “Complicated, sure. Messed up? No. I made my choices, lived with them, worked through the consequences of misplaced gambles and relationships. Everything I do is by design, good or bad. There is always a larger image.”

Written with @preyontheweak.

Tagged by: @roses-and-arrows, @xyveth-heartbane. Since the previous answers to this prompt were still valid from the last time, we did this one together to mix it up and have some fun.

[Mentions: @shewolf-jacqueline, @tinybewitchedgilnean, @jesdena, @library-of-the-forgotten @oathandsword  @titanicmight ]

[marclefrancois1]

Unique Holiday Gifts for the Special Women in your Circle

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We’re taking a little time-out from our usual topics because it’s almost that time of year! Are you looking for a special gift for your sister, mom, or best friend that goes beyond? If you want to step above a pair of gloves or a plain gift card and really wow her this holiday, we’ve put together a list of our most unique holiday gifts.

The Granola Girl

She’s the friend who is always on-the-move. Smoothly, she transitions from work to workout, to mom, friend, or caregiver — a superhero. She likes to look nice, but she’s environmentally conscious and time-pressed. These gifts speak to her.

BITE Beauty Lip Mask

Hydrating and tinting, the Lip Mask by BITE is perfect for that active woman who still wants to look polished as she sprints from the gym to her desk.

Stainless Steel Straws

2018 has been the year to eliminate plastic. But some drinks are just don’t FEEL right without a straw. Be good to the earth while sipping with these reusable straws.

SmartWool No Show Socks

Bare feet and shoes don’t always get along. These socks are our little secret — all the comfort of high-quality hosiery, hidden within that barefoot look.

AirPods

Is she tired of those aggravating white wires in her winter headwear? AirPods leave her free to move WITH her music instead of AGAINST her headphones. Give her the gift of wireless jams all day.

Ella + Mila

Nail polish that is long-lasting, chip-resistant AND 100% vegan? Sounds like the perfect gift for your favorite environmentally-concerned woman who needs her polish to last! Their colors are fantastic and paired with their base and top coat, keep her polished AND kind.

Bare Republic Facial Sunscreen. Have a hard time finding a facial sunscreen that doesn’t feel claustrophobic? This stuff feels amazing. It goes on silky smooth and soaks in quickly and contains UVA/UVB protection and SPF 30 and is fairly “clean” as far as sunscreen goes – no parabens, active chemicals, synthetic fragrances.

Berkey Water Filter. Staying hydrated is important to a woman who is always moving. Make sure her water — and the whole family’s — is purified and ready to drink.

Mad Hippie Face Cream. Certified Cruelty-free and vegan, and GMO free. She doesn’t have wrinkles! (But if she did, this would help).

The Working Mom

This lady really has it all, and all together. She’s dressed by 7am, coffee in-hand, shuttling the kids to school on her way to rule the boardroom. What she needs are gifts to relax her after the hustle, help her organize the chaos, and have a little something in her desk to perk up her afternoon.

Rent the Runway Gift Card

Sometimes a special occasion calls for an equally special outfit. Buying that LBD from a designer can set you back an entire wardrobe budget. Give her more than one option with this gift card.

Himalayan Salt Lamp

Working moms are on “go” all day long. After tucking in the kids and checking a few work emails, a soft, warm glow can relax her. Salt lamps emit sleep-friendly incandescent light, relieve mental pressure, and clean the air.

Hello Fresh Gift Card

Everyone loves dinner, but nobody wants to make it. Rather than playing “hot potato” with the task, give her a fresh, home-cooked meal that she — or someone else — can make faster than anyone can say, “what’s for dinner?”

Dry Erase Calendar.

If there’s one thing a working mom has to be, it’s organized. Help her make sure everyone gets where they’re going on time — and on the right day.

Trader Joe’s Dark Chocolate Bar with Caramel and Black Sea Salt.

It’s like a first-aid kit. Make sure she has a good-quality chocolate bar — or three. One for the desk drawer, one for that secret corner in the pantry, and maybe a decoy to share with the family.

Sometimes a cup of tea and a good book are the remedy for a long day.

Tazo Earl Grey Tea.

That last hour of work can be daunting for her when she knows there’s still a long way to bedtime. The faint bergamot and lavender scent/taste is comforting, while a little bit of caffeine is a welcome pick-me up.

The Multitasking Ms.

Stay-at-home moms who side-hustle never get a moment to themselves. Between feeding a baby and cheering at soccer, making dinner and making memories, she’s busy! Give her some daily indulgence for the holidays.

DERMAL Collagen Essence Mask Sheets

There is simply no time for a spa day when the laundry doesn’t do itself and the baby is making more. Give her the gift of an at-home facial she can enjoy without having to worry about logistics.

Eberjey Women’s PJ’s

When the kids are in bed and it’s time for Netflix, there’s nothing more relaxing than a really nice pair of jammies. We won’t tell if she wears them tomorrow, too!

Letters to My Daughter

Busy moms sometimes feel like they aren’t involved with their kids enough — even if they’re home. This book of letters from mom to daughter will help connect and create a keepsake for her daughter for years to come.

Stackable Gold Measuring Tools

Give her a little bling for baking! There are never enough clean measuring cups and spoons around. She can even let the toddler steal those plastic ones and keep these beauties for herself.

100% Pure Green Tea Water Bomb Mask. This looks hilarious when it’s on, and smells a tad funky but it’s so moisturizing. They are natural, vegan, cruelty-free, and gluten free beauty and skin care.

The Pet-Lover

Kids or not, the pet-mom is loyal to her first fur babies. Spoil her the way she spoils her pets with these cute niceties.

Lilipi Custom Pet Pillow

Her pet is important to her, so why not honor her favorite fur-baby with a custom-printed pillow!

Cute Cat Glass Tea Mug/Infuser

What do you get for a cat-lover that she doesn’t already have? This adorable tea mug with strainer is perfect for those cold winter days, curled up with a good book and a fat cat.

When all else fails, books!

Finally, Miss Mission-Impossible. She’s notoriously hard to buy for because she has all she needs, and has particular taste. The gift of reading is one everyone can get behind, and sometimes giving someone a book they wouldn’t otherwise pick for themselves is the best gift of all.

One of these Sleep Lady Team favorite books will make a great addition to her library

The Girl on the Train

“Rachel takes the same commuter train every morning and night. Every day she rattles down the track, flashes past a stretch of cozy suburban homes, and stops at the signal that allows her to daily watch the same couple breakfasting on their deck. She’s even started to feel like she knows them. Jess and Jason, she calls them. Their life—as she sees it—is perfect. Not unlike the life she recently lost.”

Sharp Objects

“Fresh from a brief stay at a psych hospital, reporter Camille Preaker faces a troubling assignment: she must return to her tiny hometown to cover the murders of two preteen girls.”

The Woman in Cabin 10

“From New York Times bestselling author of the “twisty-mystery” (Vulture) novel In a Dark, Dark Wood, comes The Woman in Cabin 10, an equally suspenseful and haunting novel from Ruth Ware—this time, set at sea.”

Keeper of the Lost Things

“A charming, clever, and quietly moving debut novel of of endless possibilities and joyful discoveries that explores the promises we make and break, losing and finding ourselves, the objects that hold magic and meaning for our lives, and the surprising connections that bind us.”

Erotic Stories for Punjabi Widows 

“A lively, sexy, and thought-provoking East-meets-West story about community, friendship, and women’s lives at all ages – a spicy and alluring mix of Together Teaand Calendar Girls.”

The Art of Racing in the Rain

“A heart-wrenching but deeply funny and ultimately uplifting story of family, love, loyalty, and hope–a captivating look at the wonders and absurdities of human life . . . as only a dog could tell it.”

May you finish your holiday shopping, “on time and under budget,” and sleep well this season!

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The post Unique Holiday Gifts for the Special Women in your Circle appeared first on Baby Sleep Coaching by the Sleep Lady.

from Blog – Baby Sleep Coaching by the Sleep Lady https://sleeplady.com/special-occasions/unique-holiday-gifts/

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