#the green bean really has some bad luck...

[soundcrusher]

Talking with Tachy about how eating Dark Energon could affect a Cybertronian in TFP sure enough was fun! And it lead to many more ideas that involved Flinch witnessing the destruction of his home world, being forced to ingest Dark Energon, because a group of Decepticon scientists were tasked to find out how much harm it could do, getting adopted by two Minicoms, escaping to earth, befriending Breakdown, and befriending a group of six Vehicons that decided to ditch the war and just live on earth. (Said Vehicons also end up kidnapping Ratchet at one point, becaude he's a medic and Flinch needs medical attention.)

All the while Eda helps him with his painful recovery.

So, a fun time over all.

Also! Some sketches of TFP Flinch, @tachyon-omlette's TFP Eda, and Flinch's Vehicon friends.

[pculrstate]

how the night passes

day 2: prompt #36 (a story all in dialogue)

11:02 p.m.

Can you see in?

Sort of. Angle’s bad.

Can’t pull any closer without being spotted out his front window.

Other side of the street?

They probably have a neighborhood watch. I can practically smell the fuckin’ HOA, dude. We’re already pushing our luck.

It’s fine, I can see enough.

Pass me the thermos?

Yeah. Here.

Shit, Sammy. That’s good. From the motel?

Buy one get one at Wegmans. Whole bean.

Shit. How’d you grind ‘em?

Hand grinder in one of the drawers. Someone must’ve left it.

Well, lucky us.

11:47 p.m.

What’s it been, like two hours? Guy hasn’t moved.

Forty-five minutes, Dean.

Jesus fucking Christ. I hate stakeouts.

12:29 a.m.

You bring any grub?

Trail mix.

Ugh. I assume it’s too much to hope for some jerky.

It stinks up the car.

Roll a window.

That kinda defeats the whole being inconspicuous thing.

Whatever. Just gimme the bag.

12:57 a.m.

Stop yawning.

I can’t help it!

Take deep breaths.

How’s that different from yawning.

Are you kidding me?

It’s too warm in here, that’s the problem. Turn the AC on.

Can’t. It’s making that rattling sound, remember?

Dammit. Forgot I was supposed to look at that.

Just take your jacket off or something. Oh, don’t—don’t make a fucking strip tease joke, Dean. They’re not funny.

What are you talking about? I didn’t say anything.

I saw your eyebrow.

What about my eyebrow.

Nothing.

How’s that saying go? He who smelt it dealt it.

Shut up. Your voice is making me nauseous.

1:13 a.m.

Remember when we used to play I Spy? In the car?

Ha. Yeah. Dad was the best at that.

You’d always pick something green. Every time.

Cause there was a lot of green!

Yeah, but even when there wasn’t. And then it’d be something barely green, like. Like the reflection of my sock in the window.

Dad would make up colors. Charfuchsia. Ceruleaneon.

Jeez, how do you remember those? Charfuchsia. Yeah. Man.

I don’t know. But it was kinda weird, right? That he did that. Not like he was very creative.

What? Yeah he was. Had to be. Keeping two rascals entertained for fifteen hours straight? He was always making up games. Shit like that.

I guess.

Hey, Sam?

What?

You wanna play?

2:07 a.m.

I don’t think he’s coming out, man.

He has to. It’s the only time he can feed.

Maybe he’s fasting.

Yeah, I don’t really think they do that.

Maybe he ordered in.

Nice, Dean.

Bet he keeps a stash in the freezer or somethin’.

A stash? They’re people. Try exercising a little tact.

Sorry. Just saying it seems like he’s down for the count.

It’s still early.

Alright then, you good if I close my eyes for a few? I’ll take next shift.

Okay.

2:31 a.m.

You still asleep? Dean?

God, your snoring. You know, when I first got to Stanford I couldn’t sleep for weeks ‘cause my room was so quiet. My roommate slept like a corpse. I hated your fucking snoring. And Dad’s. Used to lie in bed thinking that one day I was gonna have my own room with my own bed and a pillowcase that didn’t smell like mildew and it was going to be perfectly silent, so silent that I’d be able to sleep through the night. You wouldn’t kick me awake. You wouldn’t drool on my shoulder. And then I finally got it, so many years of wishing, and those first weeks, it was…awful. It was so awful. I hadn’t been scared of the dark since I was a kid, but that dorm room. I still— Fuck, I can still remember the feeling. The black and the quiet. And I wanted it back, more than anything. You and Dad. Sometimes you sounded so alike if I wasn’t looking I couldn’t tell who was who. I almost called you so many times.

3:11 a.m.

Hey, sleepyhead.

Anything?

Nope. Still quiet.

Damn, I had a weird dream.

Strippers or Hula dancers?

Ha ha.

Bad?

Not bad. Just…weird.

Wanna tell me?

You gonna sleep?

I’m okay.

Okay. It was like…we were in the Roadhouse? Sort of. You know how that shit is in dreams. It was the Roadhouse but it wasn’t really. Ellen and Ash were there.

Not Jo?

Maybe. I can’t remember. We were all drunk. Like, plastered. Even Ellen. I kept asking her to look for me.

To look for you?

Yeah, I don’t know. I just kept saying that. You have to look for me. And she told me she would but I could tell she didn’t get it. What I was really asking.

What were you really asking?

Oh shit, Jo was there. Yeah, she was there. It’s coming back. ‘Cause every time I told Ellen to look for me Jo would come up behind her and say, What do you think we’re all doing?

Huh.

Yeah.

And what was I doing?

I don’t really…

What?

That part’s fuzzy.

Try.

I don’t know, Sammy. You were drunk like the rest of us. You never— Whenever I dream about you, it’s like. You’re never fully real.

What the hell does that mean?

It’s hard to explain.

How often do you dream about me? Dean?

Most nights. I don’t know.

Most…?

Alright, can we change the subject.

I’m never…fully real.

Like when I try to touch you you’re just air. And your face is blurry or something. Never mind. I shouldn’t’ve brought it up. Just a stupid dream.

Well how did it end? This one.

It didn’t, really. We were just there in the Roadhouse drinking and I was saying that to Ellen and Jo was saying that to me and you were looking at me the whole time but I couldn’t feel you. Whatever. Then I woke up.

Sorry.

What’re you sorry for?

Just—

It’s fine.

Dean. I’m real.

I know, Sam.

3:33 a.m.

We’re going out for the biggest fucking breakfast you’ve ever had in your life after this. Get ready, Sammy.

You sure you’re gonna make it that long?

Hangin’ by a thread. For a monster this dude is fuckin’ boring.

I mean, you think he slipped past us? Back door or something?

You wanna knock and find out? That’s what I thought.

I’m sure we got the timing right. Full moon thirty days before the solstice. Has to be tonight.

I’m thinking short stack. Bacon AND sausage. Home fries. Couple over-easys. Fuckin’ gallon of coffee. Damn. Pants are getting tight.

You’re disgusting.

Maple syrup dripping down my fingers. Shit is erotic, what d’you want from me? You seen that typa porn? Oh, wait, what am I saying. You get off to the History channel.

I do not!

Nothing to be ashamed of, Sammy. Those corset dress things? Hot as fuck. I don’t blame you.

I don’t do that.

Okay, kid. Whatever you say.

3:58 a.m.

Just go to sleep, Sam, I got it.

Not…tired.

Real convincing.

I can see the moon. Out my window.

How nice.

Waning—waning gibbous.

I bet it is.

Hey, Dean?

Yup.

Can you.

Huh? Can I what.

Never mind.

No, what?

I was just gonna say can you— Remember that song you loved, the one about moonlight. Dad had it on cassette.

Uh…

You sang it to me. When I was little.

Verging on delirious, dude. Go to sleep.

You remember. I’d be so scared in the middle of the night if Dad wasn’t there. Or when I was sick. You sang it to me. Say you remember.

I remember, Sam.

Can you…?

Oh, come on, I don’t—

Please.

We’re on a fucking stakeout. Waiting for a dude who eats people.

Dean. Dean?

Ugh, fine, just—just shut up. Don’t look at me. And I swear to God if you laugh I’ll take your head off.

Won’t laugh.

Okay. Okay.

Sam? Sammy? Man, that really works on you, huh? Just like— Yeah. Just like back then. Haven’t listened to that song in years. Surprised I even remember the words. There were nights when you were at school, Dad was on a hunt. I’d get shit faced off fuckin’ cask wine. Put down two or three bottles and then park in some field and lay out in the back seat and just. I’d listen to that song a hundred times in a row. And I’d think about you all alone, and Dad all alone, and me all alone. Why the fuck did we let that happen, Sammy? We were supposed to be together. Always. The three of us, and it wasn’t— Hey, did you wake up? Sam wears women’s underwear…

Look, I’m not saying—

It’s not that I—

It just sucked. It sucked so fucking bad. And I’m glad—

Anyway. Whatever. Sweet dreams.

4:47 a.m.

You ate all the M&Ms from the trail mix.

Yeah? And?

Five year old, I swear to God.

4:56 a.m.

Well those are spaghetti westerns, which don’t even count as real westerns.

What are you talking about they don’t count? Of course they count. The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly?

Okay but spaghetti western? Seriously?

Oh, don’t start with that it’s racist crap, Sam. Times were diff—

Times were different back then, yeah, I’ve heard the speech.

They’re good enough for Clint they’re good enough for me.

Still don’t think anything beats El Dorado.

Hell yeah. I’m with you there.

5:13 a.m.

Hey, did I—did I say anything? In my sleep?

Nah, you were out.

Oh. Okay.

Why?

No reason.

You having those freak vision dream things again?

No. Not since.

Yeah. Okay. But you’d tell me, right?

Course.

5:16 a.m.

Sun’s coming up soon. What the hell happened? Why didn’t he come out?

I don’t know. Maybe I read the book wrong. Missed something.

We only got one shot at this.

I know, Dean.

5:23 a.m.

Why Ellen? Of all the people who would look for you. Why her? I mean, we don’t even really know her that well.

Beats me. Wondering the same thing.

And what does that mean? Look for me?

It was just a dream, Sam.

Yeah, but what you said, about me—

Please, I really don’t wanna talk about it.

About me not being real.

It’s not. It’s not that you’re not real. It’s just that I can’t, like. Grab hold of you.

Grab hold of me.

Shit. I—

Like I’m gonna run away.

Sam.

That’s what you’re fucking worried about? All this, everything that’s happened. You’re still— Even in your sleep.

I can’t control what goes on in my head, Sam. You of all people should get that.

You’re a fucking asshole.

You asked.

5:31 a.m.

Don’t let me forget to look at the AC later, yeah? Sam? Oh, what, you’re gonna freeze me out now?

5:36 a.m.

It was a shitty thing to say, okay. I Spy a very sorry brother. I Spy a jerk who’s saying stupid shit because he’s hungry and tired and sick of the fucking car. I Spy—

I’m here, Dean. I’m real. I’m here. Do you get that? Where else would I go?

Okay. I know. Yes. I know.

6:02 a.m.

Dean. Dean! He’s coming.

Ow, fuck, you don’t have to hit me, I see him.

Man, he really waited till dawn. Wonder why? Nothing in the lore about that.

Well he’s a mold breaker, Sammy. Who woulda thought. Let’s just hurry up and ice him so I can have my fucking breakfast.

[changingplumbob]

Chopra Household: Chapter 6, Part 8

The birthday continues! Most of the family have appointments to attend afterwards leaving Savannah and Viola under the care of nana Lavina. I mean it's not like she could be any worse than Alana the (insert your favourite swear word for mean nanny)

BTW it was daylight savings here so that's why my posts may seem an hour shifted for you...

If Viola is attempting to say something it will be in brackets, otherwise you can assume it's just trying out sounds Mercedes has a speech delay and may get words wrong, correct wording will be in brackets if that is the case Savannah aka Honeybee Mercedes aka Little Ladybug Viola aka Green Bean

Mercedes: Hey nana

Lavina: Happy birthday kiddo

Mercedes: I have bad news, papa went to the doctor and they found out he’s sick

Lavina: What? Oh why didn’t he tell me? I can’t lose him

Mercedes: Kidding!

Lavina: That’s not very funny young lady

Bizarre thing happened. Mercedes had rolled a like of deception but after this got a prompt saying she felt mischief was wrong? I like the game to have some say so while I did not add a dislike of mischief I changed her like of deception to silly behaviour to match her sister.

Milton: Oh hey you have cake

Savannah: Of course Milton, it’s a birthday party

Milton: That’s uncle Milton to you

Savannah: Mama do we really have to call him uncle? He’s only 2 years older than us

Cassandra: It’s important to be polite to family honeybee

Lavina: And respectful! You girls could learn more respect

Mercedes: *sighs* It was one joke nana

Cassandra: Lavina I have an appointment and Rahul needs to take Mercedes to one. Could you watch the kids for us please?

Savannah: I can watch the house mama

Lavina: Of course I can dear, take all the time you need

Savannah: But nana I can do it

Lavina: You’re six, you couldn’t take care of a fire. Now I hear your sister crying, go play outside or learn something

Savannah: Oh maybe I can find some cool bugs!

Lavina: Just don’t bring them into the house

Poor Viola has been trying to get to sleep but is still a bit overwhelmed by the party.

Lavina: Now what’s all this? You are making a habit of crying every time you see me Viola

Viola: *cries* ge da noo lu (I'm so tired, clapping took it out of me)

Lavina: Is nana scary huh? Big bad nana. Close your eyes and sleep, big bad nana can defend your crib from the monsters huh

Following some soothing Viola does manage to fall asleep as Lavina watches over her.

Outside Savannah isn’t having much luck. But around by the garden she spots some locusts, perfect, papa will approve of catching them! She grabs at them and manages to get hold of 2. Perhaps she can convince mama and papa to take her and Mercedes to Granite Falls so she can find more! Back inside she decides to tackle some homework.

Milton: Why are you holding your pencil like that

Savannah: Like what

Alexander: Don’t be rude Milton, not everyone does things the same way

Milton: Did you never use crayons

Savannah: *gruffly* I have a motor delay actually, pencils are hard

Milton: Oh, sorry

Alexander: That’ll teach you not to be rude

Savannah: I think I’ll go see if mama is back

Milton: I am sorry!

...

Cassandra is pumping in the spare room when Savannah finds her.

Savannah: Mama, can I still go to OT now I’m a child

Cassandra: Of course you can honeybee. It might be called something different but any support you need, we’ll find for you

Savannah: Then Uncle Alexander told him off

Mercedes: Nice!

Savannah: So what did the brain doctor say

Mercedes: They want me to do… Papa how did they say it?

Rahul: Your sister is getting referred to another type of doctor to see if she needs extra help at school

Mercedes: Can I not go to school?

Rahul: No! Whatever you need we can sort but you’ll be best having your first day with your sister

Savannah: Yeah. You don’t want to leave me alone do you? We do everything together

Mercedes: Except OT and word class

Cassandra brings Viola to the table and the family begin eating. For some reason everyone is migrating away from Viola?

Mercedes: Mama did your point tent (appointment) go okay

Cassandra: Apparently I have ADHD which I guess is a bit of a surprise but I’ll be fine. Everybody’s brain has to work in its own way

Rahul: Exactly! Now Viola, how about some peanut butter puffs? Nice and yummy

Viola looks at her papa, confused. Why is what he holding bigger than the things on the plate? It can’t just be her eyesight playing up, can it?

Savannah: Mama, can we have a trip to Granite Falls? I’d love to see some more bugs

Cassandra: Actually papa and I have been talking and we’d like you two to join scouts

Mercedes: Scouts? Why

Rahul: Nature is important to us, we want you both to learn to love it

Cassandra: Plus it will leave after school times free for OT and word class

The girls remain skeptical but agree. Meanwhile Viola is unsure about the taste of peanut butter puffs (and their creepy resemblance to banana once she picks them up) but one thing is for sure, they are fun to play with!

Savannah: Do we have to go to bed mama

Cassandra: It’s getting late honeybee, and don’t you want to check out the new bunk beds

Mercedes: I call dibs on the bottom one! That way you can still tuck me in mama

Cassandra: *smiles* alright but we need to clean up dinner first

Savannah: I got the plates

Cassandra: Mercedes could you put the leftovers away before they spoil please

Mercedes: Yes mama

Rahul: How do you two like the bunks

Savannah: It’s great papa. I can be up high just like butterflies are

Rahul: Good night rugrats, I love you two

Twins: Goodnight papa

Savannah climbs up to the top and snuggles in while Cassandra tucks Mercedes in.

Cassandra: Goodnight Mercedes. I love you both, have good dreams

Twins: Love you mama

Previous ... Next

[snkts]

Mikoto had to look up the recipe for daifuku and decide if the work, and the risk of screwing it up, was worth making them for scratch. She could order the confection from Japan and have it shipped, almost fresh, to New York for a reasonable price.

But then thought about it and realized homemade was better, even if it was bad.

She bought canned red beans and rice flour from the Asian Market, and followed the recipe she found online for making the red bean paste, forming the mochi, rolling it out, and forming the daifuku. The first few were misshapen, or torn, but Mikoto had earned enough cooking experience to not become discouraged. Instead she persevered and managed to make twelve (four white, four pink, and four a pale green) nice looking daifuku. She placed the daifuku in a sealed treat box and left the box, along with a pricey tin of green tea from Japan, on the desk in his office so he could find it after his class.

On a note, left under the box, she wrote, "Happy birthday, Logan. From Mikoto."

He’s been busy today. Busier than normal. Not too busy, of course, that he forgot what day it was. He could never forget. Creed hadn’t let him. Every year was the same. This year, Logan supposed he should be resting easier. Creed had allegedly been ‘dealt with’ not that long ago. Well, forgive him for not celebrating. 

He didn’t buy it. 

Just because Sabertooth ran afoul with a terrorist group, that didn’t mean he couldn’t be back on his feet by now. Hell, Logan was counting on it. Creed never missed today - much as Logan wished he would. Just once. One year where he could kick back with a couple of brews instead of worrying about ripping some nutjob tearing him apart. No such luck. 

The worst part of it was, Logan was still at the Institute. He should’ve been on the road days ago, far away from these walls and everyone in ‘em, and yet, here he was - a goddamn sitting duck. Drawing the threat into what was supposed to be a safe zone, a sanctuary. Their home. God fucking damnit. 

He should leave. 

He should get on the road and go. Travel fast and travel far and keep them safe. Keep Creed away. Keep his family safe. (Can’t lose anyone else-) Things keep coming up. People keep needing help. And he is losing his goddamn mind. He’s trapped here. Trapped with the people he loves. Trapping them. Damning them. Dragging them down with h-

…

Huh? 

Logan stopped his frustrated patrolling of the mansion outside of his office. Why is his door open? Had he left it open…? No, no, he never did. He was careful. He has to be - he’s got booze in the fridge, smokes on the night stand, weapons on the wall.  had to be - he had booze in the globe, smokes on the nightstand, weapons on the wall - and half-graded assignments on the desk. Couldn’t let the kids get in there. Sure, a locked door wouldn’t technically stop most of ‘em, but it set a boundary. Let the squirts know this was off limits. His office. Keep out. But someone hadn’t kept out. Logan tilted his head and furrowed his brow. Who the devil had been poking around his space? He scented the air. Nothing smelled too strange… (Nothing smelled like Creed.) Still, Logan is cautious when he opens the door further and steps inside. (It’s not paranoia when you’re usually right.) 

Nothing seemed immediately off- There. On the desk. He hadn’t put that there. But it still didn’t smell wrong. In fact… One smell stood out as fresher than the rest. Logan felt his shoulders start to relax. It was just her. Skippy. She was okay. He was less cautious and more curious now as he approached the package. And he can smell food, too. It’s a nostalgic scent. And nostalgia is so strange for him, when he only has dregs of the memories the scent is trying to bring back - but they’re good memories, he’s fairly sure. Yeah. They feel good. And the box smells really good. He takes the lid off carefully, using his claw to slice the ribbon and setting it aside to study the contents. 

“Oh, shit.” He mumbled to the empty room. These weren’t store-bought. Was that why she’d looked so tired earlier-? “She better not’ve skipped out on sleep for this.” He picks one of the green daifuku out of the box and gives it an experimental bite. It’s good - sweet, but not overly so, with just enough chew that he can work his teeth against it without it being too dense or tacky. Yeah, she did good. He finds the note, eyes it for a second, then turns back to the present - more specifically, the smaller box beside it. Tea. Real tea, by the smell of it. Fuck, it’d been a while since he’d been to Japan - a while since he got a fresh tin. 

He really should  be getting on the move. 

Grab his bag and go. 

But, fuck. The tea smelled so good, and if she’d put that much effort…

Maybe he had time for a cup.

[pbandjesse]

24 hours now since we have seen Crabcake. I am really torn up about it. I know he will show up eventually but man. Today was not amazing because I had a lot of stress thinking of my missing voy. I'm just so sad about it. I am trying to remain positive but I am still sad.

And how the day started wasn't helpful. I would sleep okay. But when I woke up I was frustrated. James had apparently looked for an hour with no luck. And once I was dressed I would look as well. I got snippy with James and they spoke not very nice to me. Basically the first time they have ever done that. And I know we were both just overwhelmed with stress but it still upsets me. They apologized and we see okay. We just want Crabcake back.

I would have to leave for camp. I left ten minutes later then normal but it was fine. I would struggle on my drive in. I was enjoying a podcast but I was also just so tired.

When I got to camp I would set up for the day and worked on cutting bears. I would end up giving myself a blister on my finger from cutting so many bears out of felt. It was painful, still is hours and hours later.

I would go sit in the office for a little to cool down. It was a really really nice today. The heat has finally calmed down. And we could all breathe. I would chat with Heather about Crabcake and how sad I am. And she really thinks he'll come out soon and everything will be okay. I really hope she's right.

Manny would ask me if two of his boys could hang out with me this morning because they didn't want to go tubing. I said sure. And not long after they would come up to join me.

I was in my hammock. But I would get them set up with paper and coloring material. I would also get them some tasks so they wouldn't be bored. It was very helpful when they would count out the bears we've cut out so far. And I should have enough for the first two days at least. Excellent.

I wish I could say I was able to put everything to the side and be the best teacher. And I think at points I did okay. But I was way quicker to be frustrated then normal. And I was just disappointed in myself for being snippy when kids were just not getting the instructions. Some were better then others at the art. But the ones who just didn't seem to listen to instructions and were wasting all the ink made me really upset.

Some kids impressed me though with their understanding of the materials and techniques. And it was fun! Those parts made me feel more positive.

I would not love lunch but I was starving. We had Mac and cheese and green beans with lots of pepper. But it was a little boring. I would have some egg salad and lettuce too. But pretty quickly I decided I wanted to go lay down in the cabin.

I walked down there and was happy to be in the AC even if it wasn't to hot outside. I really enjoy spying on that bed. And it's nice and dark in there. I would pick out some clothes for tomorrow and Monday. And got a piece of chocolate. I took some old food out of the fridge and bagged it up to take to the trash (morning our building to avoid buggies), and laid down for a half hour.

I think that made my afternoon a lot better. I was feeling kind of ugly and bad today but the rest and the dark made me feel a little bit more like myself. It went perfect but it was something.

The day campers would make me feel a little crazy though. Throwing my toys and breaking things and just upsetting me. Thankfully when Emily came back she would hold them accountable and would impose a 15 minute time out for them on the field. I appreciated the effort.

Second day came was better. Still crazy but more interested in the art. And their councilor and YLP were excellent. I felt very supported.

My tipis kids were here too and finished their service hours and would help with a few things. It was nice to chat with them, always is.

Stockade was my last group and we would have a lot of fun metal casting and I was just really enjoying them trying so hard. Mix success for sure. But it was fun! Jorge was the councilor and he was so sweet to me. And Jeci was goofy in the best way. And Kamal came back to get his piece again even though it kept not working, he was trying and I admired that a lot.

But I was glad to be done in the end. I really wanted to go home. So after collecting my things I drove home. Enjoyed a podcast. Was starving all of a sudden. But was very happy to go home.

I would get stuck in a little traffic but it wasn't bad at all. And I was home by 415.

No sign of Crabcake though. I had really hoped he would just be right there but not yet.

I would do a loop to look for him. Then went to take a shower. And then sit on the couch to have a snack and wait for my James to come home.

When they did I was very happy to see them. They would clean up and we decided to go to the diner and get sandwiches.

This was a good call. I was very happy walking around with them. The drive out was just fine. And we were very very excited to sit in the side of the restaurant we have never been sat in before! I was so excited I almost told the waitress how excited I was. It was very silly.

And we had some absolutely huge laughs. We were just being so silly and I was having so much fun. The food was good but the company was better.

We decided to make a stop at target before we went home. I needed a new toothbrush and wanted frozen cream cheese wantons. We would get a couple other small things. But we were just having fun walking around and looking and talking and I was feeling a lot nicer inside.

We would head home after that. And that is where we are now. I have been hanging out on the couch. The AC is working really well and I'm thrilled about that. But I am also really tired. Physically. Emotionally. It was a long day. I am still full of worry. But I just have to have faith that it will all work out.

I hope that the last day of the week goes well. I hope my groups are nice and I can just having a nice time. I hope you all have a great night. Take care of eachother. Good night. Until next time

[celestial-requiem]

@plaidypus tagged me in some thing so I guess I'll do it

Three Ships: In no particular order other than the first three that come to mind.

Sora x Riku - Kingdom Hearts: The ship of my childhood. Pretty sure the only fandom ship I have ever written fanfic for (when I was in high school....it has almost certainly been lost to time now). I fell off of KH for nearly 10 years but picked up Dream Drop Distance a couple years ago and MY GOD the gay pining. These bitches gay, good for them.

Luck x Ludovica - Tiger, Tiger: I love them, your honor....Complete nerd who's so far in the closest even she doesn't realize she's gay meets flirty eldritch god beast with a massive ego. It's a perfect combo.

Buggy x Crocodile x Mihawk - One Piece: Listen. I'm not even at Cross Guild stuff yet but the fanart. It's so spicy. It's like 75% of the reason I even started watched OP in the first place. I can pinpoint the exact piece of fanart that made me go :eyes: maybe I should watch this show... And here I am, over 300 episodes later and still going. I'm fully aware that I'm not getting to Cross Guild any time soon but I'm hooked without it anyways rip in pieces to me.

First Ever Ship: This for sure was not my first but it's the oldest one I can think of. Kovu and Kiara from Lion King 2. I have always been a sucker for the misunderstood bad boy(/girl/NB/person). Also One of Us is literally Disney's best song don't @ me.

Last Song: Tot Musica by Ado I have been listening to nothing but Ado for three weeks now and it's almost entirely because of One Piece kjahsf although my buddy introduced me to her music before the movie came out so I was already into her stuff.

Last Movie: Rocky Horror Picture Show at a Halloween party lmao. We also watched Us and Coraline.

Currently Reading: Pretty sure it was Isles of Abandonment by Cal Flyn. Very interesting read about the impact that humans have on a place after they've abandoned it. I really need to get back into listening to audio books while I'm at work...

Currently Watching: You might be surprised to hear it's One Piece. But I have slowed down a bit because Water 7/Enies Lobby broke me a little bit ;_;

Currently Consuming: Water and some mini cookies n cream bars...(my mom sent us so much fucking Halloween candy help)

Currently Craving: Nothing. Had a delicious dinner of fish and chips with some green beans that Py made and I am satisfied.

I ain't gonna tag anyone because I'm a lazy fuck. Fill this out if you wanna. Or don't.

[southeastasiadiary]

Day Twenty-One, Part One: A Day of Wats and Wandering

The description for today on my itinerary reads, “Free time to wander around and free visits. Overnight in Luang Prabang.” Now, as a lifelong overthinker, my natural response to a statement like this is, “Wander around? Where? And how will I know when I’ve wandered enough? How many free visits does one make?” It’s the typical Paradox of Choice. Having too many options, I tend to freeze. For example, the first time I ever went to the DeKalb Farmers Market outside Atlanta, I emerged empty-handed because, seriously, how do you know which of the 396 varieties of green beans to buy? And, after last night’s story, I’m loath to buy beans at the market now anyway.

So, today’s dilemma was: Should I stay in Luang Prabang or go to the Pak Ou Caves? Should I take the bullet train to Vientiane or, as Pindar suggests, “Seek nearer home.”

In the end, inertia made the choice for me, as inertia is wont to do. I slept in late, having gotten up early for the alms ceremony the day before and then having gone back into town for the Garavek Story Telling Show. That meant that it was too late to go to the Pak Ou Caves or Vientiane, each of which would’ve required an early start. So, after a late-ish breakfast, I read the guidebook, chose a few destinations, and took the hotel shuttle to the center of Luang Prabang, and began my own personal Great Wat Tour.

The town of Luang Prabang is about the size of Statesboro, Georgia, where I spent eleven happy years in the 1990s. Actually, the comparison to Statesboro is not at all a bad one. If you simply replace every church of any denomination in Statesboro with a wat (i.e., a temple, a monastery, or a combination of the two) here, you’d end up with much the same thing. I’ll spare you photos of every single wat I took pictures of today (suffice it to say, there were lots), and just give you the Reader's Digest version. Even having just been there, they do start to look a bit “samey” in snapshots. And, if you haven’t been there in person, I doubt it’s easy all to tell one from another. But here are a select few.

I’ll start with the Wat Mahathat (“The Temple of the Large Stupa”) mostly because, while I was there, one of the novices dashed out and rang this large bell to signal that it was time for chanting to begin.

The bell also serves as something of a town clock. You can always tell what time of day it is in Luang Prabang by whichever bell is being sounded in whichever monastery. Even more impressive than the bell is a massive drum that’s hung nearby and played on certain festive occasions.

The large stupa that gives the wat its name can be seen in upper left of this picture. I photographed it almost accidentally since my attention was really drawn to the beautiful, but far less significant golden stupa to the right.

The temple building is quite ornate and, y my eye, very Laotian in style.

A long row of spirit houses lines the rear of the property.

Some of the senior monks are given residences that almost look like tourist cabins.

The steps leaving the wat were littered with frangipani blossoms, a flower that has become a national symbol for Laos.

Since the Laotian word for frangipani is champa, and I’d just come from two countries where the Champa Kingdom was very important, this term can be confusing. In fact, however, the Laotian word champa has absolutely nothing to do with the Champa Kingdom. It’s just a linguistic coincidence.

Recalling that an early name for this territory was Lan Xang, “The Million Elephants Kingdom,” another common symbol is that of the elephant, which also appears nearly everywhere.

By the way, elephant trunks are a little like horseshoes in Southeast Asia. In depictions, they should always be raised, otherwise the luck “runs out.”

Even though I’d been to Wat Mai (“The New Monastery”) the other day, I knew I hadn’t seen everything that was there. So, in my free wandering today, I returned to Wat Mai and saw a building that served as a classroom for instruction in the tenets of Buddhism.

[pockymun]

2024 Garden - Week 10 (8/11-8/16)

Surprisingly, there were hardly any cucumbers on the plants Monday that were close to ready. I'm starting to see where my pruning has caused too much damage. The plants aren't producing what they used to, and the leaves aren't looking better.

Someone helped themselves to the large cucumber at the top of the plant. That's getting frustrating.

The big dills get plenty of little bees in their flowers, but no signs of seeds yet. I did find some dills in the community plots that have gone to seed, for when I next pickle!

Some baby dills have emerged again, along with what I'm assuming is some basil. Finally another herb decided to grow, after all that rain.

What was also surprising is that not many tomatoes split after all of the rain last week. More leaves are yellowing and wilting, but the fruits look fine.

The carrot stems are filling out more. I hope that means I will get actual carrots this year. I've never had luck with them before.

The top of the green bean plants have gotten knotted together on the cucumber trellis. The flowers were really pretty on Monday!

The gym was closed this week, so I spent two days after work weeding a section of the garden space where some apple trees were planted. Everyone is supposed to do an hour a month of volunteer work at the garden, but I suspect most don't. The weeds have gotten pretty bad in some areas. It took 2.5 hours to clear out the apple tree corner. Everywhere else is easier, and someone else can pitch in now.

As awful as my cucumber and tomato plants look, at least the fruits are easier to find now!

The carrot stems keep getting bigger. Some are growing too close together, so it will be interesting to see what I end up with. I'm thinking of planting them alongside some onion next year.

The baby dills and basils are getting more established, too. I hope it's not too late in the season for the basils.

By Thursday night, the green bean flowers were less noticeable. I think a lot have dropped off. The plants had another surprise instead.

I did not think the green beans would be ready to pick tonight. I expected them to need another week. But I found some large ones on the vines that were ready! I still haven't counted how many I picked. It wasn't much; enough for a side dish. But there should be plenty more next week!

Four cucumbers were ready to pick tonight. I left one on the vine to overripen. It seems to be hidden by leaves....

I cut all of the seed heads of the dead cilantro plant finally, as well as some sprigs from the big dills. They are in the paper bag.

Two tomatoes are changing colors. Hopefully everyone else will follow soon.

[mothandpidgeon]

The Outlaws (Outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader) - Chapter 1

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: Outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader

rating: T (eventual E 18+ MDNI)

wc: 2.8k

summary: Wanted for murder with a bounty on your head, your only hope of escaping the Pinkerton detectives is an outlaw named Joel Miller and his sidekick Ellie. But Joel has other plans for you.

tags: old west au, train robberies, enemies to lovers, grumpy Joel, handcuffed together, period/genre/canon typical violence, alcohol, morally grey characters, assuming Ellie’s gender, reader has backstory, no use of y/n

authors note: it’s been a really long time since I’ve had the confidence to post a new series here. But these two have taken over my brain and I’m excited to share them with you. Thank you @ezrasbirdie for beta and generally cheering this idea on.

You’ve found yourself in some spots before but never one as tight as this. You’re seated in the passenger car of a train bound for Chicago. If you make it there, you’ll hang.

Your knee bounces anxiously. You’ve been wracking your brain for hours now. There’s got to be some way to escape but you’re fresh out of ideas. Unless you can smash the window and jump out of a moving train, you’re screwed.

“Quit that twitching or I’ll give you a real shiner,” Brown says from behind his newspaper. He’s sitting on the aisle, between you and freedom. There’s a holster on his hip, his fancy pistol a promise that you won’t get far if you try to run.

As you suck your teeth in response, he chuckles to himself, and you wish you could punch him again like you did back in Laramie. 

Six years in Wyoming and your luck has run out. It’s bad enough that you’re getting hauled back east but being pinched by a Pinkerton man in a silly bowler hat and that ridiculous tin badge is humiliating. He’s actually twirling his fucking mustache, the bastard. 

“I’m hungry,” you tell him as he neatly folds his paper. You’re not but you’re grasping at straws now, trying anything that might get him to give just an inch. 

“That’s too bad,” he says. He pulls a little paper bag of jelly beans out of his coat pocket and pops a few into his mouth.

Fucker. 

You chew on a hangnail, pressing your forehead against the window. Your best chance of getting off of this train is Brown dropping dead. You’ve been wishing for him to have a heart attack for the last 35 miles but no luck yet. When the train stops in Cheyanne, you might be able to make a break for it but it’s too risky. There aren’t a whole lot of elegant solutions left.

The landscape of the west rolls by as the train chugs along. Wide, churning rivers, thick forests, and mountains dusted with snow. It was beautiful back when this was your refuge. Now, it’s just something else to scowl at while you listen to Brown munch his candy. 

Your sigh fogs the glass. All you can do now is hope for a miracle. 

The train reduces speed to take a curve and all you can see are thick, tall trees with branches that shade the tracks. They go from a blur of green to clutches of pale, white trunks and you realize you’re seeing more and more details on each branch. The locomotive’s slowing. It’s huffing and puffing with effort, sparks flicking off from the wheels as the hulking thing crawls along. Soon it’s so slow that you could run faster. There’s no station in sight, you’re still deep in forest here. Something’s amiss. Maybe the train is broken, maybe they ran out of coal. How trains work is a mystery to you to begin with but they must break down sometimes. 

You chance a look at Brown. He’s all suspicion, sitting up a little taller, eyes searching around for the answer to the same question that’s on your mind. What’s going on here? 

Suddenly the train lurches to a halt. A hat box falls off of the overhead shelf and a few passengers brace themselves against the seats with grunts and complaints. 

“Are we stopping?” a man a few rows ahead of you asks no one in particular. 

The locomotive answers with a long, tired hiss. 

“You got something to do with this?” Brown asks you in a hushed tone. 

“How could I stop a train all the way back here?” you ask him. 

“Maybe one of your compatriots,” he says. 

You give a laugh. If there’s one thing you’ve never had in your life it’s scruples and if there’s two, it’s compatriots. You’ve been on your own since you were sixteen and there sure as hell isn’t anybody in the world that loves you enough to stop a train for you. 

You don’t feel sorry for yourself, never have. RIght now, in fact, you’re feeling pretty pleased. Any delay on this trip means more time to think. Hope blooms in your chest and you have to keep yourself from grinning so Brown doesn’t get the wrong idea.

The train is motionless for a while, murmurs of speculation from your fellow passengers. 

Then the car door slides open and in walks an outlaw with a pistol in each hand.

He’s slight. Short and scrawny and youthful, maybe sixteen years old. The bottom half of his pale face is covered by a dark red bandana, mousy brown hair under a worn hat.

“Ladies and gents, I regret to inform you that this here is a hold up,” he says, tone so cheerful, you’d think he was a carnival barker. But his voice isn’t as deep as you expected. In fact you’re skeptical that’s a boy under there. “Keep your hands where I can see ‘em and nobody gets hurt.” 

The other passengers gasp and whisper, nervous looks shared about the car. Your foot begins to bounce again as your mind races to figure a way to make this new wrinkle work in your favor. 

“That means you, too,” the kid says, sidling up to Brown. Now that she’s closer, you’re almost certain this outlaw is a girl. “No need for heroes here.” 

The Pinkerton man’s hand is laying on his revolver. 

“I suggest you move along to the others, young fella,” Brown replies. 

“Don’t be an idiot, buster,” the kid says. She cocks a pistol. 

There’s a long standoff between the two and nobody in the whole car dares to even breathe. 

The door slams open and you jump. 

A second outlaw enters. There’s a noticeable shift in the air. He’s imposing and dark, stalking in like a big dog, spurs jingling with each step. 

“What’s taking so long?” he asks. His voice is a cowboy drawl. He adjusts a canvas mail sack on his broad shoulder, no doubt stuffed full of money from the train’s safe. 

He’s dressed like any other outlaw, and you’ve seen your fair share. Shabby shirt, black waistcoat, a leather belt heavy with bullets around narrow hips. He’s got on a black hat and beneath it you spy dark curls threaded with silver, much older than the other robber. 

All you can see of his face are two brown eyes that flit between the standoff in front of him. He whips his colt 45 out of its holster with practiced ease. 

Brown’s outnumbered now. This is your chance. 

“You’ve got to help me, mister,” you say, rising from your seat with your hands up in surrender. 

Your sudden movement draws all of his attention. He points the barrel of his gun at your chest and your breath catches. There’s no point in being afraid, though. Odds are you’re going to die on the gallows anyway.  Maybe he’ll shoot you but at least you tried. Your heart’s thrumming in your ears.

“I ain’t on this train of my own free will,” you explain. 

“Quiet, you,” Brown growls.

“He’s a Pinkerton man. He’ll shoot you dead if you let him,” you say.   

You're sure Brown would love to glare at you if he didn’t have his attention trained on the man in front of him.

“Don’t worry about her,” Brown says. “I’ve got no quarrel with you, friend.”

The outlaw’s eyes narrow just the slightest bit.

“I’ve got a bounty on my head,” you say. All of your words are coming out fast.

“How much?” the outlaw asks.

“Enough,” Brown says. His hand stays on his gun. 

“He’s taking me to Chicago and I’m facing the rope,” you explain. “There’s a warrant in his breast pocket. It’s the god’s honest truth,” you say. 

The outlaw thinks for a moment and you tense. It never ends well for you when men think too much. 

“Take it off him. And the gun,” the outlaw says to his partner. Then he turns back to Brown and says, “Hands up.”

“I don’t intend to interfere with your business so long as you don’t interfere with mine,” Brown says.

“If you think you’ll have that gun up and shooting before I’ve put a bullet in you, you’re sorely mistaken. So I’ll give you one more chance to get your hands in the air,” the outlaw warns. His cold words light an exhilarating heat in your belly. 

Brown clenches his jaw but with two guns drawn on him he has no choice but compliance. You feel some vindication as he slowly raises his hands. 

With some fancy flips, the kid holsters one of her guns. Brown lets her take his pistol and pull the paper from his coat though he frowns all through it. 

You watch the outlaw skim the words on your warrant. His eyes bounce between you and the page. 

“She don’t look like the murdering type,” he says.

You suppose he’s right. You’re still rough around the edges but in your straw hat and prim, full skirt you might be mistaken for a school marm. That you certainly aren’t.

The kid looks at you with new interest.

“That’s up to the judge,” Brown says. “My job’s just to bring her to the law.”

“I’d be much obliged if you prevented that from happening,” you say. 

“Why should I?” he asks. 

You swallow. You’ve had to sing for your supper before but it’s never been a matter of life and death. 

“You’re going to steal her necklace and his wallet,” you say with a nod to the other passengers. “What’s the difference between that and little old me?” you ask. 

“Aiding and abetting is the difference—“ Brown begins indignantly. 

“You give her that black and blue?” the outlaw asks and there’s a new edge in his voice that thrills you.

You’ve almost forgotten about the mark on your cheek, when you and Brown came to blows that first encounter. He got you right in the under your eye where a big ugly welt remained. 

“She struck first,” Brown says with a smug little smile.

You want to knock his teeth out and it seems the outlaw has the same fancy. He whacks Brown right in the nose with his pistol. Brown wails and grabs his face, blood pouring between his fingers. Some of the other passengers gasp and a woman cries out in horror. 

You laugh so hard that it hurts the bruise.

As you step off the train you’re so flooded with relief. You’ve never been closer to catching a rope and your narrow escape, the pure fate of it all, is invigorating. The leaves look brighter than before and the air feels fresher even though coal smoke hangs all around you. 

You’ve got a second chance. Well, more like a hundredth chance. Anyone with an ounce of sense would see this divine intervention as a sign to change their ways, do things right. Not you. You just thank your lucky stars that you’ve put off meeting your maker by one more day. Whoever’s up there, you’ve managed to outsmart him so far and sometimes you’re arrogant enough to believe that you might avoid judgment day altogether. 

It takes you a moment to notice there are no other outlaws on standby. The tracks are obstructed by a pile of railroad ties which explains how such a small party could get aboard but other than that, it’s just deserted forest. The coal man and engineer must be tied up in the locomotive. An impressive feat for five men, let alone an aging cowboy and a teenage girl. 

“Keep moving,” the outlaw says and leads you away. 

He whistles uncommonly loud and two saddled horses— one the color of whiskey, the other nearly black— trot out of the tree line. 

A gun’s report echoes from the train. 

“Shit!” You duck. Brown and a Marshall stand on the caboose, aiming in your direction. 

The outlaw returns fire. A direct hit. He strikes the Marshall in the chest and his body topples over the rail onto the tracks with a great thud. 

“Come on!” The kid calls from the saddle of the brown horse. She’s got her hand out to you. 

You pull yourself onto its back behind her as more bullets whizz by. The kid shoots without taking time to aim. Her shots ping off the metal train car and Brown takes cover long enough for her partner to mount his horse. 

“Giddy up, Shimmer!” She kicks the horse and you’re carried off down the tracks, back west. 

The gunshots quiet and eventually stop and soon the train has disappeared from view when you’re around that bend. The horses take you off the gravel shoulder of the train tracks and into the trees, hooves picking carefully through the brush. They don’t stop until dusk is falling, miles away from where you started. Their hideout is a cave along the banks of a deep river. 

The kid hops out of the saddle south a celebratory holler and pulls the mask off to reveal delicate features removing her hat allows a long braid to tumble down her back. So you were right, that was a girl under there. 

“You see that shooting back there?” she asks her partner. 

He gives a gruff kind of chuckle but says no more. 

For the first time in days your whole body relaxes and you can’t help but giggle to yourself. You made it. 

“I’m Ellie,” the kid says after you’ve got your feet on the ground.“This here is Joel Miller.”

You’ve heard the name. The man notorious for robbing stagecoaches, banks, and trains stands before you. He tugs down his bandana revealing patchy stubble and a full set of lips that look like they’ve never seen a smile. It might be that he just saved your life but you can’t help but find him handsome. He’s rugged and square jawed, his neck dotted with beads of sweat. 

“As I live and breathe. I suppose I owe you one,” you say. 

You put out a hand for him to shake but instead your wrist is clamped in iron. He’s locked a handcuff around you. 

“God damn it!” you snap. You yank your arm back but he holds the other cuff in his fist. 

“Joel! What the hell?” Ellie says. 

He fixes his own wrist in the other cuff. You’re locked together with only about a foot of chain separating the two of you. 

“If you’re worth $10,000 I don’t need you wandering off on me,” he says and tugs back. 

All of the good will in you evaporates and you feel fire rise in your gut. You’ve never expected honor amongst thieves but this is more than treacherous. 

“You son of a bitch. You’d turn me into the law? I bet there’s a bounty on your head three times the size,”you gripe. 

“Four,” he tells you. 

Your face is hot and you’re ready to fight but Joel Miller isn’t just some city detective. 

“You’re a wanted man. How do you figure you can just waltz into the sheriff and ask for the reward?”

“You don’t worry about that, missy,” he says. 

The little moniker makes you want to slap him right in the face. 

“Joel, no,” Ellie says, features painted with disgust. 

“Don’t start with me,” he warns her. 

“We don’t need the money,” she protests. 

“Ellie.”

“Fuck you, you ugly lily-livered bastard!” you say. 

“Hey!” he barks, pulling the chain taught. “Listen here, missy. That handbill said ‘dead or alive.’ If you can’t be quiet, ain’t nothing stopping me from putting a bullet in ya.” 

His words send a shiver down your spine. There’s no reason for you to believe that’s an empty threat. Angry tears brim in your eyes but you’ll be damned if he sees you cry. You’re capable of violence, too, but unarmed, outnumbered, and imprisoned, you’ve got no choice but to shut up. 

You don’t go down easy, though. You spit at the ground between you and the frothy wad of saliva lands on Joel’s boot, then slips into the dirt. His nostrils flare and for a second you think he’s got mind to put you over his knee. You stand your ground, glaring into his dark eyes. 

There’s a twitch in his jaw and Joel turns away, working at the strap on his saddle, taking you with him. 

“Ellie, get that fire going,” he orders. “We’ll ride to the Boot tomorrow. Lay low for a week. Then we’ll go to Jackson and deal with her.” He nods at you. 

“You serious?” Ellie asks. She looks at you with apology in her expression. 

Joel tosses her the reins and she sighs. He shoves his saddle bags into your arms. 

“Make yourself useful,” he says. 

Your mind is already working again. You made it off of a moving train, you’ll find a way out of this new predicament. You’ve got one week to slip out of Joel Miller’s clutches. 

Chapter 2 - Series Masterlist

Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear from you. Asks always open and I don't bite (much).

[whiskeynovember]

All the new plants are potted up. the roots do look really nice. some of the plants had tiny new growth closer to the base, like the chocolate mint.

it's really nice today. it shouldn't get higher than 87° and earlier it sprinkled a bit, so I don't feel too bad about keeping the new seedlings in the back. i really wish the weather would stay out of the hundreds, but no luck. it will be up to 102° by Saturday. 💀

the plots look nice. something happened to the squash vines, but I can't tell what, exactly. like they might of fell due to the weight. 😂. they look nice, as does everything else, today. even the cucumbers have new leaves, so I'm going to go through and remove some of the old ones and the ones touching the ground.

the yellow squash has flowers! diamond watermelon is vining out like crazy. the green squash looks like it's starting it's second set of mature leaves and 2 of the 3 baby bush watermelons plants are getting bigger.

i did a light fertilizer on the peppers. harvested one yard bean and pulled some more dill seeds. i have so many dill seeds, now... too many, in fact. i went ahead and put the dill pots in their place. a few sprouted but I noticed they tend to creep up unexpectedly, so I won't bother with filling in more seeds.

my basil seedlings are a bit better. the first day and full sun killed a few seedling, but I still have a decent amount. the Siam Queen only has 4 now, so I need to be careful with that one.

sweet basil is a little tired today. only 4 of the fenugreek seeds have sprouted from soil out of the 12 sprouts I potted and 2 extra seeds I popped in. pine berry seeds haven't sprouted from soil either. one lemon balm has, none of the Korean mint or extra cucamelons from soil.

need to water the herbs, check the propagation station, and then call it for the day.

[kcuf-ad]

I think I can do this.

How many works do you have on AO3?

158

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes:

Tomioka Is Getting Hit On!

Tanjiro Has Something To Say To The Hashiras

Are You Sure Izuku Isn't Your Son?

We Must Protect The Green Bean

When Giyuu's Mom Calls

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Looks at the 540 Comments I haven't responded to ...sometimes. It depends on my mood or if there is something for me to respond to.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

A Finessa Fic by the name of I Miss You. Where Vanessa walks out of Finral's room during the Elf Arc as he is still in a coma. It doesn't have a sad ending, but it is the angstiest that I could think of.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Survivor without question. It's just... I really enjoy fics where characters feel bad and they have characters that are there for them to cheer them up. So... a fic where Yuno is in the Black Bulls, griefing over the death of Asta and the Bulls help him out, with it ending with them spending time with each other is just nice.

Do you write crossovers?

My longest fic is Yugioh GX: Rewrite where it is basically most of the Yugioh cast in the GX setting. Even without that, I wrote Did We Become Best Friends where Aster Phoenix and Zora Ideale become besties due to how similiar they are. Sasuke's Weapon of Victory where Sasuke has the Omnitrix.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yup. My VRAINS story is where I got anon hate for, which I responded to. My GX Fic got a few hate comments on, but I really don't mind it. But my Black Clover fic? Nope, not yet.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yup. By some asshole that the Black Clover Community collectively celebrated when they left, which they stole "WILL YOU MARRY ME?!" without giving me credit. (Thank you Rama for notifying me for that).

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I doubt that someone would do that.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No and that is for everyone's sake. I have a schedule of something that can not be described with.

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Don't make me choose, it switches all the god damn time. One moment it is Midotsuyu, the next it is Giyushino, the next is Angelmakershipping, the next is Yuno x Charmy, and more.

So far? I would say Angelmakershipping, but it will change.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

THE GOD DAMN DEMON SLAYER X MY HERO FIC! I want to finish it, but my enjoyment and interest of My Hero dropped like a brick from a 10 story apartment. For a one shot, it had a decent run of 1000 words before the teachers came in, but that is all that I will write.

What are your writing strengths?

I would say either Humor, Action or Duels. Humor is something that is very subjective and I think I have a pretty decent sense of humor as there are moments that I think are funny that I want to write, but I don't know how to execute them, though when I do, I do hear people say that they laughed hearing them, so that makes me smile. Action is shocking to me since I can confidently write at least 2000 words of fighting due to how versitle it is for me and I could make everyone do the best that I could. Duels in Yugioh is something that I want to rather perfect with combos you would see from a crackhouse.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Dialouge and trying to write realistic dialouge. The reason for this is that I love making characters interact with each other, even if they did like once in canon (For example in my Black Clover fic, Klaus and Noelle have an odd friendship alike Mimosa and Luck due to what happened in the Dungeon), but I want to go on more because I am not very satisfied or I have to cut due to how long it is.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I speak two languages. Croatian and English, and respectfully, no. I am not a good translator in the slightest so that would be absolutely fucking horrible for me to try it.

What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

Most animes that I watched, but never wrote a fic for. For a Fandom, it is Madoka Magica which I might write a fic for someone on their birthday, but right now? Eh. For a ship? Right now, it is Atsulucy. I love them.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I will link at least 3 for different Fandoms.

Star Magic: Yuno is basically a love letter to the Black Clover Anime and Manga in which it is Yuno having his Star Magic early on and I mean at the start, and that is not it. I like to expand on it and the lore of Black Clover with my own.... type of writing. Like Original Characters like Rook Mortar, Midori, Mito Muay, Kenneth Dryll, Danny Kafka and more, expanding the magic system with stuff like Support Magic, Summon Magic and even Fragmentation Magic which is something I look forward to, even expanding the characters such as the Golden Dawn, most of the Captains and Julius, not to mention, it will soon have ships that I really enjoy.

Lightning's Crush. I thought it would be very funny if Lightning has a crush on Hatsune Miku. That is just... really funny to me for no reason.

Boy's Handwriting vs Girl's Handwriting. LISTEN! I love the Karakura Gang to death, they are my children, my kids, and I love the idea of them fighting over each other for their handwriting. They are funny to me and I wanted to replicate Bleach's style of humor which is basically the funniest arguments ever put to manga.

I think that is it.

Anyone can join!

Fanfic writer interview!

tagged by @ashenaura. Merci bien ! ;)

How many works do you have on AO3?

145.

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes:

I'll Follow

Where The Heart Is

Your World

Everything and More

Brittlest

(... yup, it's all SAU and those numbers will never not shock me)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Of course. It might take me forever (my inbox is staring at me dead in the eyes), but I will respond. It means the world to me and if anyone makes the effort, they deserve a response. Easy.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I need happy endings with my angst so... yeah. I think... Yesterday I died (tomorrow's bleeding) is quite sad.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

I guess the SAU has the happiest ending. Everything And More's last chapter is literally sunshine and calmness which, yk, is needed after the whole thing.

Do you write crossovers?

I've just gotten into it! I didn't see the hype before but um that was because I never tried to mash together the right verses I think. The Arkham Horror x Black Clover crossover is very dear to me.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

*touching wood* Nope.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I've written steamy but never full smut. Well, I've written bits. But they're unpublished and I don't think I ever will publish them soooo yeah.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge, no.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! Someone translated Her Most Precious Memories in Russian (Её самые драгоценные воспоминания).

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Just like crossovers, I'm just getting into it. And just like crossovers, I'm absolutely loving it.

@kalolasfantasyworld knows. We've written that Olympics Swimming one, Silver Scorching Interdimensional Slash: the Magical Medley Relay of Doom, and we're writing the most wonderful Formula for a Crush.

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

All time favorite... royai probably.

it's just the angst... it's just the sillies... it's just the war criminals... there's a dog... they're both so stupid... i love them...

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

fhjfhds all of them. If I start a wip it's that I want to see it finished (because I want to read it). Sadly, I often don't have the motivation to. The wip list is ever growing.

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue and internal monologues, I think.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Besides everything syntax and grammar-related because what even is English, I'd say description, especially of action scenes. It takes me forever to even dare put down a few words and I always feel like I'm describing like a 7yo would (no shade to 7yo but surely with 20 more years on this planet I should be able to do better).

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I did it in Formula for a Crush for Vanessa and Helena because Helena typically does it so it felt normal to As long as it's one word or one expression I don't really mind. (my Italian is non-existent and my Spanish is uhhh not good so, there's that.).

In my own work, I prefer to keep it in English and italicize. Less risk to completely fumble a whole language.

(I just realized that Zora doesn't even utter one word in French in FFAC and I'm French [I dare think I can speak and write the language relatively well]. so it's less down to messing up a language than personal preferences in writing ig..? I never really thought about it.)

What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

Nothing comes to mind. Rarepair Week was a great occasion to tick some of these boxes too.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I've had this question ten thousand times and I think I reply differently every time dhjfdjskj. It's a tough one.

Right now I'm having a lot of fun with Formula for a Crush (nah, you can't tell with how much I'm talking about it).

what even is football anyway will always be very dear to me and I'll probably say it's this one.

Blue Hours (and its sequel, I might even like the sequel more simply for the rant about the dishes) is special because I loved the concept and I experienced a bit with the narration.

Thicker Than Blood because it's a longer one and it was a really non-pressure kind of fic (I expected no one to read it so I really had fun)

Yesterday I died (tomorrow's bleeding) and posing questions to a silent universe (my very thoughts a curse) for some nice Mia angst.

Lost in a storm, It’s a big office, chief, for some nice Phoenix angst.

Tell Me About Cruelty means a lot to me.

(you might realize: I cannot choose. I'm looking at the 145 fics and I'm like. they're all special to me in some way. even those I wish I could erase from the face of the earth I'm like. I like that line, that scene, that hug. it's terrible and it's wonderful.)

--

tagging (no pressure, do it if you want) @kalolasfantasyworld (because ofc I'm tagging you), @wildflowerwoodsworld

[from-a-reckless-writer]

iv. couch.

read on ao3

To Lena: r u busy??? U didnt answer my calls. Dinner later?

To Lena: my place.

To Lena: Or yours! Can totally go to urs. If u want.

To Lena: Lena????

To Lena: where are u??

To Lena: Answer my calls

To Lena: Pls?

Kara rounds the corner of her hallway, keys bitten, dangling from her lips, as she types with both hands. Her 67th text message of the day to an MIA Lena Luthor sent. She fails to notice the creature lurking around the front of her door; dark fur shining under the cheap LED lights of Kara’s corridor.

She’s still deeply absorbed in her phone with worry, in the middle of jamming her keys in with one hand, when something furry brushes against her legs and Kara yelps.

She pulls the knob clean out of the wood in shock, her phone dropping to the floor loudly, the cat doing a duet with her with a startled yowl of her own.

Heart hammering and adrenaline racing, Kara looks down and sees the cat for the first time.

“Oh! Oh!” she gasps, “I didn’t see you there, buddy. I’m sorry for startling you!! I didn’t mean it.”

The door knob clatters loudly to the ground as it falls out of her grasp. And Kara sheepishly feels guilty for the hole in her door. But the cat meows loudly, catching her attention, as if in response to her apology.

She crouches down low, and reaches out a hand to touch the furball. She snaps a quick pic, sends it to Lena and pockets her phone.

To Lena: KITTY!!

“Oh, oh come here,” she coos, “where’s your collar? How’d you get here huh?”

The cat reminds her of Streaky. The first stray who ever took to her kindly. Although upon closer inspection, Kara realizes this one has striking emeralds for eyes, Streaky’s eyes were a more softer blue.

The cat surprisingly seems friendly, immediately leaning into Kara’s touch. Nosing at the inside of Kara’s wrist and it’s such a familiar gesture but she can’t seem to remember why.

And...oh, a small rumbling echoes through Kara’s palm!

Oh, they’re purring!

Kara doesn’t know how long she stays there crouched low exactly, but eventually, she stands up, takes her hand away, and picks up the damaged doorknob.

“Well, time for you to go home now, buddy,” she tells them, giving their head one last pat before dusting off her hands on her jacket.

“Go on, shooo. Shoo. Go home. I’m sure your human is looking for you.”

But the cat remains unmoving. It looks like they’ve decided to sit firmly in front of Kara’s doorstep, casually licking a paw, as if waiting for Kara to open her door.

“Are you actually waiting for me to open my door?” Kara makes a mental note to thank Rao that none of her neighbors can see her trying to hold a proper conversation with a cat.

“Look, kitty,” she says firmly, “I’m not your human.”

The cat just blinks owlishly at her. Eyes too green, too intelligent and-

Kara makes up her mind.

She turns her face skywards, takes a deep breath (This will probably backfire, she already knows. But she's always had a soft spot for strays.) and then she pushes her door wide open.

The cat races inside, cutting through Kara’s legs and almost tripping her.

“Well, somebody’s excited,” Kara mutters under her breath, she watches the cat head for her living room couch; watches as they pause all of a sudden, changes course and jumps onto Kara’s coffee table instead.

Where the cat then proceeds to knock down everything in close vicinity, even the picture frame of her and Lena together.

“Hey! No! Bad kitty-”

But the cat is already hopping down from her pedestal, landing on the frame directly.

And then things get weird.

The cat proceeds to stomp all over it, meows loud, like really loud; insanely loud for a cat their size.

Her paw seems to be almost pointing? At the other person in the frame.

“I-” Kara seems taken aback by the bizarre behavior, sure she knows cats are vastly different from dogs, but this…

This is just weird.

The cat’s meowing only seems to get louder.

How you land yourselves in these situations, Kara. I really just don’t know, at this point. She can almost hear Alex say.

“What are you- Are you- are you pointing? That’s- That’s Lena, yeah. That’s my best friend.”

At that, the cat seems to vibrate. They start clawing at Kara’s pant leg, meowing and meowing and meowing—

And then it hits her.

"-but it turns out that she’s a witch. And apparently, so am I."

The green, green eyes.

A pink nose nuzzling against her wrist.

“Lena?”

******

“Oh, Rao! Lena you’re a cat! What happened?! Oh, no, baby what did you do?”

Lena-

Lena The Cat—and okay, so she’s still wrapping her head around that one—just stays silent. She’s sitting on her lap, looking regal than any cat has any right to be. A judgmental look in her eyes.

Lena’s a cat. Cat’s can’t speak. Can’t answer Kara’s questions.

“Right. Sorry. Only meow,” Kara murmurs, embarrassed. For some reason even in cat form Lena manages to be intimidating.

“Okay so, uh d-does that mean you still understand me? Two meows for yes. One meow for no.”

Kara gets two meows.

“Okay, cool, cool. Great. You can still understand me, that's good.” Kara runs a hand down her spine, “Gosh, your fur is just so soft.”

She hears Lena give a small growl, body tensing, “Right. Right. Sorry. Not the time for pets.” Kara retracts her hand away.

“Uhm, so next question then, I guess? D-did you become a cat this morning? Were you testing out your uhm...gift?”

Lena meows twice. Kara nods, clenching and unclenching her fist underneath her chin. Fingers itching to run themselves through Lena’s soft fur again. Lena seems to sense this, and nuzzles her face into Kara’s hand, bumps against her repeatedly.

“Really?” Kara double-checks, giddy. If she were human Kara bets Lena would be rolling her eyes like she always does when Kara does something particularly dorky, but she just pushes her head firmer against Kara’s hand and meows twice.

“So uhm,” she starts, cautiously, noting Lena’s increasing purr, “is there like a spellbook for this or something? Something that can help you transform back?

Lena meows yes.

“Is it in The Tower or back at your place?”

There are no responses.

“Sorry, sorry lemme rephrase, is it in The Tower?”

She gets two consecutive meows.

Okay, to The Tower it is.

******

“Are you going to tell me why you’re cradling a cat in your cape or??” Alex raises a brow at her, a hand on her hip, left foot tapping impatiently. Her sister was heading out for the day, it looks like. It was just tough luck that Supergirl landed one minute before the elevator took Alex.

Crap. Now they have to explain. They didn’t talk about this. Lena still hasn’t told her if it was okay to tell people about her gift.

“I-I rescued it,” Kara says.

Well, that isn’t so far from the truth, right? She stares at the bundle in her arms, Lena the traitor staying silent all the while—green eyes shining all innocent at Kara.

Alex’s stares intensifies.

“From a tree,” Kara flounders, and Lena The Cat has the audacity to yawn, squirm and jump away from her arms. She lands gracefully, tail swishing up in the air and heads straight for the lab.

Alex eyes the cat suspiciously before turning back to Kara. She jabs a finger to her chest. “It better not have any fleas. It better not touch my training mat.”

“She won’t.”

Alex just shakes her head, rolls her eyes, grabs her helmet and walks to the elevator.

Before she goes though, Alex says, “You know, this is gonna sound weird, but I swear I think I saw that same cat slinking out of The Tower earlier this morning.”

“Alex, she’s literally a black cat. There are hundreds of black cats in the city.”

“You're being weirdly defensive about this. Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not.”

Alex seems like she wants to say more, but the elevator dings, and she’s never been more grateful that Kelly makes Alex pick her up from work. Alex huffs out breath, before conceding and disappearing into the lift.

******

The camera flash is what gets Kara busted.

But is it really her fault if she walked in on a cute kitty, hunched over, meowing adorably, trying to flip over the pages of a thick spellbook, with her teeny-tiny bean paws?

Lena hisses at her, teeth-bared and fur puffy.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. But you were just really, really, really cute okay?” She walks closer to the desk, carefully lifts a hand and scratches Lena behind the ear.

The hissing slowly devolves into purring, and Kara grins triumphantly. Lena lets herself be picked up after a few moments, Kara leafing through the pages for her.

“So, found anything yet?” She asks, cradling Lena close to her chest. A warm weight on Kara’s arms, and as much as she wants to get her real Lena back, she also isn’t too eager on giving up this version anytime soon. Then again, Kara thinks, it would be impossible for her to give up any version of Lena Luthor.

“Spell? Charm? Anything? Do you need to make a potion? Are we gonna get to make a potion? Oh, oh do you need a wand? Do you have a wa-”

Kara’s words get muffled as two black paws press against her lips. Lena’s green eyes narrowing at her. She meows at Kara. Loudly.

“Mkay, mkay. Shut up. Got it.”

Lena removes her paws, and Kara makes a gesture of zipping her lips together. This seems to appease Lena enough because the next second, a pink tongue darts out and she...licks Kara's nose.

“Did you- did you just lick me?” Kara gasps out.

Lena doesn’t even acknowledge her with a meow, just turns away and jumps out of her arms again. Before Kara can do anything about it though, her phone rings.

The screen lighting up with Andrea’s name.

“Danvers, I’ve got a story for you.”

******

“Alex, please, I’ll be quick. I promise. I’ll only be three hours at the most. Please just look after her,” she pleads, pouting and puppy eyes in full power.

It also helps that the cat burrito in her cape looks to be cooperating. Lena The Cat staring at Alex with wide round eyes.

Apparently, some governor was found dead downtown, and now Andrea wants her on the scene. She can’t just leave Lena all alone in The Tower. No matter how hard Lena’s been protesting, this is brand new territory for both of them. Nobody knows the extent of Lena’s powers.

Point is, Kara would feel a lot better if she were to leave Lena under the care of someone she trusts. Even if said someone, accuses Lena of being a stray with fleas. It's still better than leaving Lena all on her own.

“Ugh.” Alex groans and Kara knows she’s won. “If this cat causes trouble I will throw it out the window, Kara.”

“No!” Kara yells, distressed. “Don’t do that. She’ll behave. She promises.”

She puts her hand under Lena’s arms and raises her up to eye level—Simba style. “You promise to be good for Alex, don’t you?”

All she gets is a lot of squirming and screaming, there were also a lot of attempts at scratching Kara’s nose.

“See?” Kara says, chuckling nervously. “She’s telling you she’s good.”

Alex looks skeptical, her arms crossed against her chest.

Kara sets her down on the couch, and crouches down low.

She tries to pet her head, but Lena bites at her finger, she catches her teeth on the skin of her supersuit’s thumb slot. She bites deeper, her teeth accomplishing nothing but a few dents.

And oh, Rao she thinks she’s such a feral little cat but her pink adorable gummy snarl says otherwise.

“I’m sorry, I’ll be back. I promise,” she whispers, careful not to let Alex hear. “And then we’ll figure it out later, okay? The safest place for you right now is to be with Alex.”

She really doesn’t want to go, and based on Lena’s protests she doesn’t want Kara to go either. But well, Andrea had finally threatened to fire her if she disobeyed...which is...fair.

She’s aware she’s been doing a less than stellar job at being a journalist lately. Rao, what an understatement. This is basically her make it or break it.

“Look, I’ll be quick, promise. Be good to Alex,” Kara murmurs. She presses a kiss on Lena’s furry forehead. Lena finally unclenches her jaw and lets Kara go. The little whine she lets out, letting Kara know that she knows the battle’s lost.

“Both of you, be good,” Kara tells them sternly. “Alex, please don’t yeet my cat out of the window.”

Alex shrugs, staring at the cat with suspicion. “I make no promises.’

Lena is staring at Alex just as hostile. Great. They both deserve each other.

Kara sighs exasperatedly. Well, at least she tried.

******

She gets a very angry Alex Danvers on the line, right after she’s finished talking to some sources. It’s nighttime now, and when she checks her watch—yep, she’s left Lena in Alex’s care for more than six hours.

Crap.

“Hey, Al—”

“KARA IF YOU DON’T PICK UP THIS THIS THIS GODDAMNED HAIRBALL RIGHT NOW, YOU WILL NEVER SEE IT EVER AGAIN.”

There is loud meowing, and then, “What the- Get off! Get off me right no-”

The line clicks dead.

Kara Danvers quickly changes into an alley, manages to break the sound barrier.

******

It’s Kelly who opens the door.

“Hey, Kara,” she greets her. Kara is impatiently rocking on her heels, trying to peer past Kelly’s shoulders.

The place was quiet; ridiculously quiet, and Kara feels fear swoop in her belly.

“Please, tell me my cat is still alive,” Kara bursts out, Kelly just gives her a pained smile and oh, no, oh no.

She muscles her way past Kelly to a brooding Alex on the couch.

Lena is nowhere to be seen.

“Alex, Alex where’s my cat? Where is she? Where did you put her?”

Alex finally looks up at her, Kara taking notice of the red marks on her arm.

Oh no, Lena, what did you do?

“Calm down, I didn’t throw the little demon away. She’s-" Alex sing-songs before finishing, "on time-out.”

“Time-out?” Kara asks, voice shaking. Rao, does she really want to know.

Alex takes too long to answer, taking a swig of her beer first before pointing to a corner in the living room.

And there, she spots it.

It, being a small pile of laundry on the floor, next to an upside down hamper. A big white hamper housing one Lena Luthor. There's a crude cardboard sign stuck on it; "Kitty Jail". Alex has also stacked a few encyclopedia on top of it, no doubt an attempt to keep Lena from escaping.

“Oh! Oh, Lena!”

Kara superspeeds her way and scoops Lena up, the cat meowing immediately and curling into Kara’s chest.

“You named the cat after Lena?!”

Crap.

Kara turns around slowly, “Uhm yeah?”

Alex just shakes her head. “Unbelievable.”

“Her eyes reminded me of Lena, okay?!” Kara yells defensively, pressing tiny kisses onto Lena’s fur.

“I’m sorry that Alex has been such a meanie to you," she coos, "I know you didn’t deserve it, baby."

Alex seems to perk up at that, because she raises up from the couch. “That,” Alex jabs a finger in their direction, Kara cradles Lena protectively, “That baby ruined my couch and she so totally deserves all the mean! All the mean in the world, Kara!”

Lena hisses in her arms.

“No, no. That’s not true. Lena is baby and she’s perfect and you’re just a meanie.”

“She ruined my upholstery! She left hair all over the place and that’s not even to mention the scratching!”

“Because you were mean to her!”

Alex scoffs, eyes bulging wide in disbelief.

“Get out,” Alex says, her brows pinching comically, “Get out of my apartment before that little devil causes more damage.”

“Gladly,” Kara says, and Lena meows her assent. They make their way past Alex, Kara unaware that Lena has stuck out her little tongue at Alex over her shoulder.

“And she’s not a little devil!” Kara calls out.

Alex slams the door in her face.

******

That evening, Kara pores over a thick spellbook, eyes swimming with Latin symbols with a purring machine on her lap.

By midnight, Kara has managed to pass out on her couch, a black cat curled on her chest.

The spellbook lay open on her coffee table, forgotten.

******

The first sight that greets Kara when she wakes up are green eyes.

Green human eyes.

And then it hits her.

“Lena!”

The spell had blessedly wore off by morning, and Kara’s never been more glad to see the sunlight lighting up Lena’s face.

For a moment, Kara’s assaulted with the mental image of laying in a pool of sunlight with a black cat stretching leisurely next to her.

“Good morning,” Lena purrs, and oh Rao, that sound is much, much better than her meowing.

“You’re back!” Kara gasps in awe.

“I’m back,” she whispers, she’s still draped fully over Kara on the couch. A blanket covering them both.

“Rao, I missed you.” A palm comes up to cup her cheeks, Lena automatically nuzzling into the inside of her wrist.

“Mm, I missed me, too,” Lena tells her, face breaking into a small smile. Kara traces her fingers up and down Lena’s spine. Oh, how she’s missed touching Lena’s skin.

Wait-

Skin.

Is she-

“Lena,” Kara begins, swallowing. Her nerves not going unnoticed.

Lena raises a brow at her. “Kara?”

“Are you- uhm- ah. Are you naked right now?”

Lena’s eyes light up like a cat’s and Kara knows she’s in trouble.

“Mm. It seems that I am,” Lena says, and all Kara can do is gulp.

“What are you gonna do about it?”

special shoutout to @mike-wachowski, @sexybread-png and @thebreakfastgod for their cat expertise without whom this silly little fic would not be written.

[marvel-and-dc-geek]

Thor: Record of Ragnarok

Chapter 10

-Just stay still and it won’t hurt -it seemed like the Hulk couldn’t fit their healing equipment , so Loki was ordered to try. Why just not turn him into Banner ? Simple: those scratches would heal better if it was the green giant who got treated first.

-HURTS !-The monster roared as Loki tried to heal the scratches he had: Sekmeth had caused him great harm, and he had claw marks all around him, even some bites.

Loki got slightly frightened, as his yelling brought really bad memories to the god, but he couldn’t really blame him: feline scratches hurt, and more so if it has been that goddess that made them. Kara had gone to fetch some alcohol for her, and beans that the emerald giant had asked for, and also doctor Banner’s glasses, just in case.

-I am almost done -Loki promised, but it really wasn’t the truth: it was hard to heal the hero. Not because he couldn’t, but because he didn’t stay still.

-Are you a nurse now, my dear ?- That voice again…luck really seemed to hate lucky.

-Penguin god !- Hulk laughed, as Hermes’ suit reminded him of the flightless bird

-Shh, don’t make him get angry -Loki mumbled to the green giant. His ex unfortunately was aware of the Norse complot, tho he didn’t know how much he had told the other pantheons.

-Hush, monster…-Hermes didn’t have q reason to worry about a hurt participant -My love, are you really reduced to this? -

Loki ignored Hermes, he’d rather focus on continuing with his job.

- I spoke to you -Hermès wasn’t pleased -are you deaf?-

-I’m busy, please leave -Loki tried to fetch some of the healing cream, but the Greek grabbed his hand

-I hadn’t seen you in some thousand years…-Which Loki was thankful for -you’ve grown more beautiful, my dear Loki -

Let me go - Loki demanded angrily

-Wouldn’t you rather return with me, my dear ?-Hermès ignored the last words the Norse spoke

-No, I’d rather marry a draugar -Loki tried to get free, but his grip was to strong

-I think you believe you got a choice…- Hermès tried to drag Loki closer to him, but suddenly had to let go of him

-PUNY GOD SAID NO, PENGUIN MAN!-Hulk roared after grabbing the Greek god, angrily shaking him. Hermes attempted to move before, but wasn’t strong enough get free

-Let me go, beast -it was few time that’s Loki had seen him angry, and every time he was terrified, but Hulk completely ignored him.

-LEAVE PUNY GOD ALONE !-Hulk roared again.

Loki had to admit he was shocked, as every single avenger seemed to hate his existence.

-Thank you-he said softly as he went back to healing the green man.

Hulk simply nodded, but wasn’t letting the Greek god go.

-Could you please order the monster to let me go ?-Hermès felt humiliated: a mortal who wasn’t even at his peak at the moment was preventing him from going away

-Get two things clear, my dear -Loki used the tone the other god loved to tease him -in the first place, you are the monster -which he knew better than he would like to admit- and secondly, you can go when Hulk feels you can go -

- you two will pay for this - Hermes threatened, but his words didn’t mean much when he was trapped

Hulk laughed and shook Hermes again while Loki healed him. Karma did exist, thankfully

[skylarsblue]

Random Our Life Headcanons

Cove:  -He’s terrified of large flying bugs. Like cicadas and beetles. -He has a real bad concept of time, which often leads to him staying up too late, spending too much time on one thing, etc. -Unless he just happens to see it on TV, he’ll never get around to shows/movies you suggest. It’s not intentional, he just always forgets.  -Cove cannot handle sour food. 

Derek: -Derek is obviously the sporty type, but he’s also a book worm. He owns tons of books. He’ll read just about anything. If it’s raining or it’s too cold to go out, he likes sitting with tea and a sweater. He likes to truly immerse himself in whatever book he’s reading. -He’s kind of a mom friend. He always carries bandaids, tylenol, etc. If he has his bag with him, it probably has some water bottles and snacks in it. -He actually needs reading glasses, but he only wears them when he’s reading books, and he stops needing them by the time he’s 18. -While he much prefers loose clothing and warm weather, during older seasons, he enjoys big sweaters and fluffy blankets.

Baxter: -He struggles with caffeine addiction. Several times, he’s managed to get off things like coffee and energy drinks, stick to water or tea. And then he falls right back into it. -Baxter can eat about anything, but he can’t stand green beans. Ever since he was a kid, he could never stand them. -He’s actually really good at cooking, his specialty usually falls into soups. You sick? Have him make you chicken noodle soup. You’ll never be able to go back to the canned stuff. -He’s always dreamed of having and driving a motorcycle, but he doesn’t know how to ride a bike, and honestly at this point? He’s afraid to ask. Lizzie: -While she’s decent at cooking, she cannot bake. No matter how hard she tries, what recipe she uses, it always turns out wrong. Most often times, it comes out burnt. -Lizzie can actually play the harmonica. She had a real intense obsession with it when she was around 8-11. So now she’s very good at it. -She has oddly remarkable hearing. About nothing gets past her, purely because she’ll hear it coming. Sometimes she uses it to mess with people. -The amount of spice she likes in her food is ridiculous. She’d add spice to desserts if someone didn’t stop her. Pamela: -The main reason you can’t have pets, is because Pamela has bad fur allergies. But as for things like reptiles? She’s creeped out by them. Fish might be okay, but she usually worries that someone would forget to feed them. -While she doesn’t really believe in ghosts, for some reason, paranormal-based horror movies scare her the worst. -While she’s an excellent driver, for some reason, she’s been in the most wrecks/accidents. She just has the worst luck in cars it seems. -Before meeting Noelani in college, she actually didn’t know how to swim, and avoided places like the beach out of embarrassment.

Noelani: -Noelani is actually pretty artistic. She decided to ditch paint when she got MC and Lizzie, so it wouldn’t end up all over the couch or something. But she still really enjoys coloring with her kids.| -She can’t stand most alcohol unless it’s very fruity. But the ones she hates the most is whiskey, tequila, and vodka. She says they taste like paint stripper. -She’s actually the cleaner and most organized between herself and Pamela. But she’s not the type to get angry if she comes home to a mess. She actually finds the process of cleaning therapeutic. -While Pamela is great at it, she is awful at keeping track of time. She has about a 30 alarms set just to remind her of basic things. Miranda: -She struggles letting go of things, because a lot of the time, she finds sentimental value in them. It’s why she still has so many stuffed animals, even if they’re clearly dirty or damaged. -Miranda can rarely find jewelry she can wear cause she has an allergy, she needs metals that are hypoallergenic or just straight plastic. It’s why she prefers bead bracelets/necklaces. -She can’t dance for the life of her, but it never stops her anyways. -She has a very selective memory. Will she remember a very important date? Possibly, if you remind her enough. Will she remember half the lessons she got from school? Not at all. But every sign in her cousin’s astrology chart? For some reason, yeah!

Terry: -Terry can’t stand sitting in silence. It makes him jumpy, paranoid even. He needs some kind of white noise. Problem is, he’s also easily distracted. -No one knows why, but he is obsessed with crustaceans. Lobsters, crabs, etc. He finds them very fascinating for some reason. -Back when he was younger, he was great at timed reading, and was honestly a few grades above of the rest of his class. Now? It’s rare to see him reading much of anything. He can’t find something that holds his attention. -Terry actually doesn’t like sweets all that much. Occasionally, yeah. But most of the time he prefers salt/savory food. Cliff: -This man can speak fluently in spanish, purely because it was one of the only classes he actually enjoyed in school. -While it got better, he used to have super bad asthma as a kid. Which is part of the reason he likes getting out and being active now, he missed out on quite a lot as a kid. -He loves the ocean but he absolutely hates eels. They freak him out. -Cliff has a low alcohol tolerance, surprisingly. You’d think he’d have a better tolerance from being so taller or his “training” in college. But no. About three beers and he’s drunk. Kyra: -She grew up with dogs, but Kyra is actually more of a cat person. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t like dogs though. Her dream cat is a maine coon. -Kyra’s the one Cove got the bad eyesight from. Though she usually uses contacts, since she feels glasses often get in the way. -She loves trying new foods from places, and she often tries to support local restaurants. Even if she didn’t like the first dish she got from a place, she’ll still gives them a shot a few more times before deciding she won’t go anymore. -Brand loyalist? Nah, the opposite. There are some brands she will utterly refuse to buy. Usually it’s because the corporation has done something bigoted.

Lee: -While you’d never expect it, she actually really likes alternative/punk music. Though for the most part, she’s willing to listen to any genre. -Do not even try to make her watch a horror movie with you, she will outright refuse. Lee can’t stand them, she’s often prone to nightmares. -Lee went through a phase where she wanted a tongue ring, but then she saw how they were actually done, and quickly decided she didn’t want too.  -Lee is actually pretty skilled at skating. She likes going to skate parks and busting out her roller blades, though she often gets her knees scraped up too. 

[izusun]

Goblin anon here absolutely screeching over feral quirkless Midoriya, it's everything I wanted

I would like to also introduce a brand (my brand) of feral to Midoriya: pyromaniac.

Imagine Midoriya getting through the entrance exam by saving people, but also by bringing makeshift Molotov cocktails and wrecking almost as much shop as Bakugou.

Imagine the battle trials where Bakugou tries to blow up the building because "that's the only way to keep this little shit down" and in response Midoriya dodges and then sets the building on fire.

Imagine the USJ incident, which goes about the same, but his first instinct is to set the Noumu on fire. Yes he does so. He also nearly sets the stadium on fire at the sports festival so much that they had to evacuate sections of the stadium.

Midoriya (say it with me now) sets Stain on fire. When Tsukauchi meets with the murder trio after the Hosu incident, he just sighs and is like "Midoriya, really?" And this is when we learn that Midoriya has a history of coming across random villains and setting them on fire. When Inko arrives to pick him up she's just like "You're grounded."

There's theories about what Midoriya's quirk, everything from increased intelligence to extremely shitty luck to the ability to make anything he touches explodes (due to his inane ability to make a bomb/lighter out of the most insane things). When it comes out that he's quirkless, it just makes everyone even more afraid, as Midoriya can make a bomb out of some LSD and a rubber duck quirkless-

Pyromaniac quirkless Midoriya.

- Goblin anon

GOBLIN ANON IT’S BEEN AGES IM SORRY IM JUST RESPONDING NOW (ive been so bad at responding asks my god i struggle but thank u for ur au dumps, i love loVE THEM SO MUCH!!!!)

IM IN LOVE WITH THIS AU

feral quirkless gremlin midoriya going through shit by setting things on fire is just the way to go im duwldjwksk

i read midoriya with molotov cocktails and i have not stopped simping for and thinking about this midoriya

genuinely swooning at this ver of him

midoriya probably has a collection of lighters and basically does those hand tricks to calm him down or to take his mind off of things

bakugou and midoriya being more familiar with each other in their middle school days compared to canon and bakugou gifting midoriya with personalized all might lighter god that’s adorable

ok but they’re talking about their favourite heroes and bakugou goes, “shocking that you don’t like endeavour.”

and midoriya just shrugs, twisting his hand and fingers to orchestrate the fire’s dance from his lighter, his viridian eyes brighter and says, “his fire feels wrong.” and they leave it at that

midoriya being inspired by bakugou’s explosions and attempting to copy those so bad that bakugou thought midoriya’s trying out for support classes

OK BUT FIGHT WITH SLUDGE VILLAIN?

he yanks out makeshift molotov cocktails from his bag, lights them up and throws them at the bastard. the sludge villain screams and retreats slightly because not only was he facing the fires but also the exploded glass shards. it gave enough time for bakugou to explode the villain and escape enough to allow him to breathe. in the end, all might still defeats the sludge but he misses bakugou and midoriya who escaped. no ofa for firey green bean.

bakugou helping midoriya create more explosions.

“but kacchba i want fire, not explosions!”

“same difference you pyro asshole!”

midoriya learns them anyways and enjoys it.

THE EXAM!!

i have two ways:

one: midoriya appealed to the staff that he needed support items and they allowed him and they watched in shock as this little boy explodes the arena worse than the explosion-quirked student. of course he passes and aizawa took him on as his student.

two: midoriya appealed to the staff that he needed his support items but the staff did NOT allow him because they’re considered weapons (as if quirks are not genetic weapons but i DIGRESS) and so when the exam starts, he stays at the very back of the other examinees. this was so that when he arrives at the scene, there are already spare parts for him to scavenge so that he can build makeshift explosions (foregoing whatever shit he learned from katsuki because all that’s on his mind right now are molotov cocktails)

so that’s what happens. he scavenges parts and hides inside one of the buildings so that he can focus more on making explosions and be less worried about being attacked. when he was fully geared, he steps out and begins to retaliate.

he works fast as to not waste his time and the makeshift explosions. because of this, others (ahem-aoyama-ahem) had no opportunity to steal his score.

same thing happens: uraraka gets caught and midoriya explodes the zero pointer. this time, however, the robot is utterly destroyed.

aizawa and majima saw midoriya’s performance, adored it, and began fighting for midoriya.

“majima, he’s here for the hero classes.”

“great. now give him to me.”

nezu pretends that he’s not planning on splitting midoriya’s schedule anyways.

BATTLE TRIAL OH MY GOD rip all might i bet you keeled over so bad, you were one second from turning to small might there and then.

all might: ok so one explodey kid to look out for. that’s not bad.

all might, one minute later: this green kid looks familiar…

all might, ten minutes later: what the fuck.

NO BECAUSE bakugou and midoriya being excited to explode things (well, more like midoriya’s excited and bakugou just wants to fight midoriya) and having a blast when fighting each other.

1a’s probably thinking “oh no” followed by “they’re hot” (literally too because yk the building’s on fire.)

MIDORIYA EXPLODING THE NOUMU??? king shit

midoriya saw this monster running to aizawa and he just points a more eloquent looking flame thrower (thank u mei for working with midoriya with that) at this beast and sets it on fire.

it effectively slowed the noumu and gave the others an opportunity to pull aizawa from the hit zone. it also granted all might more freedom when fighting the noumu because it was slowed enough that all might didn’t have to worry about exceeding his time limit.

the fire damaged some of its nerve processes that the scientist and afo had not accounted for. of course this review is returned to them and many of the noumus become fireproof because of this incident.

OK BUT DURING THE SPORTS FEST

midoriya crushing on todoroki because fire.

he was actually very interested in todoroki prior to sports fest but something about todoroki’s fight against sero sparked something more in midoriya. midoriya saw the anger from his ice, now he wants to see the same intensity from his fire.

his spiel of “that’s your power, todoroki” goes differently. todoroki still pulls him aside and trauma dumps on him but this time he goes, without missing a beat, “that fire is a waste on you.”

todoroki full body pauses because that’s not something he’s ever, well, considered to hear after trauma dumping.

“what?” he croaks, confused at the bubbling feeling. it’s a miasma of anger and hurt, but to a scale so unfamiliar.

midoriya shrugs. “fire is unique, more so as an elemental quirk. you think it doesn’t make half of you—well, i mean you’re right. it doesn’t. you make it. you control it. fire is often uncontrollable and yet here you are, having it as your power. it’s yours to control, so control it. use it.”

todoroki’s ears are ringing.

“you have it as your power.”

“so control it.”

and so he did.

midoriya watched todoki’s fire; watched the way the flames lick up up up and leaves no air bathed in heat. midoriya sees the rawness of anger and determination and thinks, “this is how fire should always look like.”

unconsciously he also thinks how todoroki’s fire is far more beautiful than endeavour’s.

midoriya loses and he’s not as sad about it. losing to something sentient (fire, not todoroki), for him, is a blessing.

todoroki advances along with bakugou.

bakugou who is jealous of todoroki because he saw how midoriya eyed todoroki’s fire and knew todoroki’s a competition in other more ways.

bakugou wins again, this time less angry because todoroki used his fire against him.

STAIN THINKING MIDORIYA’S JUST THIS WEIRD HERO STUDENT WHO HAS NO SPECIFIC QUIRK UNTIL HE FEELS FLAME KISS HIS SKIN AND SCREAMS BECAUSE DAMN IT GREEN EYED KID JUST SET HIM ON FIRE

todoroki full on pausing because he thought he’s the one who set stain on fire unconsciously only to follow the fire’s trail and sees it’s from one of midoriya’s many support items.

“shoot i didn’t mean to burn him that fast!”

“that’s your issue!?”

midoriya gives them a “duh?” look and todoroki feels himself warming up (HAH another fire pun) at midoriya’s ease.

flying noumi still comes and picks him up but midoriya also sets this thing on fire. the difference between a winged noumu and a normal noumu is that the wings are far more flammable and midoriya had quite a bit of fun at setting it on fire and hearing the crackling of flames on rubbery wings.

endeavour casts him a glance that speaks of approval and midoriya doesn’t know if he hates it or not.

tsukauchi arrives and sees not only stain, but the noumu and heaves up a very big sigh. “midoriya, really?”

GOBLIN! PYROMANIAC QUIRKLESS MIDORIYA IZUKU IS A FAVE IM SCREAMING

[alldayangst]

lovebug (Tom Holland)

GIF is from gaybuckybarnes here on Tumblr. You can access my masterlist here. This was written for @worldoftom’s lolbrosgetsicktoochallenge. The prompt I had was: ‘Tom self diagnoses himself as sick. He’s got all the symptoms. He’s speechless, over the edge and just breathless. He never thought he’d get hit by the ‘love-bug’ again’. Inspired by the song Lovebug by Jonas Brothers!

A/N: Y/N is an assistant director on Cherry in this fic. This has a lot of Cherry (the movie) references but most are explained if you haven’t seen the film. Such as, it was filmed in Cleveland and Morocco, directed by Joe and Anthony Russo. Some scenes in this fic borrow from the movie & I’ve linked clips from the film if you’d like to listen/watch along. WC: 4K.

“Yeah, Mum, I’ve just got like the sorest throat at the moment.” Nikki’s picture cuts in and out on a scrambled screen on the South side of London, her husband’s hand periodically reaching out for her, rubbing her shoulder, then leaving the frame almost as quickly as it came in. Even through the low quality, the pixels dashing about his screen, Tom can make out his mother’s brows knitting together and can’t remove the feeling of utter guilt when he sees her grow redder and redder out of anger, concern and confusion for her son. “But I’ve got Harry here with me.” Harry waves from behind his brother, his trusty mug swapped for a Phoenix Coffee Cup in his spare hand, just to get a taste of the States.

Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. He barely drinks coffee on the other side of the pond, and would bet good money that an at home PG Tips would beat America’s swankiest coffee joint any day. But now, he’s betrayed his usual routine and his body’s all out of whack and his throat is hoarse, he’s breathless even at times.

Harry shoots his mum a half smile to comfort her, but he doesn’t know what it's like to be a mother, and his and Tom’s mouth both form an ‘O’ when Nikki begins to type so hard her screen jolts and Tom swears she’s put a dent in it. “You know what? I’m going to give them a piece of my mind, Tom! They’re overworking you!” Nikki looks intensely to find her baby boy in drug-addled eyes and his jungle of curls on his newly shaven head. She guesses it becomes easier when Tom pushes his face halfway into the screen and pleads like the child he’ll always be to her, “Please, please Mum! I can’t have any days off. Under any circumstances, I need to finish this film!”

Tom turns to his younger brother for help. “Tell her, Harry!”

And as little brothers do best, Harry spills the beans as soon as Tom’s phone is in clutch. “Tom’s fallen in love with the first A.D., Y/N.”

Nikki immediately loses her frown, knowing how love can knock Tom off his feet and blow all the wind out of him. Tom’s father, Dom, re-enters the frame to match Nikki’s grin. He never misses an opportunity to tease. “Oo, caught a case of the love bug, have you?”

Harry has to whip the phone around to dodge Tom’s protesting arms reaching for it again. “Don’t listen to Harry. I���m not in love. I just like Y/N.”

“A lot.” Harry mutters. Tom’s family doesn’t budge any further, knowing how bad Tom was hurt after his last relationship. They weren't sure when the love bug would come back to bite him again. So after they all shared a knowing look, Harry handed Tom his phone back. “I’ll keep you updated. Bye, Mum.”

It all started five weeks ago. Tom, at 24, was beginning to feel like love was trudging up a high hill he couldn’t come down from, where every beat of heart was feeling like an ache on an open wound.  Tom had yet to meet a lover to prove distance makes the heart grow fonder, finding himself in six month long entanglements and illusions of love before things inevitably went sour.

He’d say, perhaps, you were the closest thing to the real deal. The problem was, he didn’t know if you liked him back.

“When life was beginning, I saw -”

“When life was-”

“When life was be-fuck!”

“When life was beginning, I saw you.”

Tom could make a picture book out of the day he first met you. He remembers how your hair looked that day, the speckles of genuinity in your eyes, how your ear-to-ear smile seemed to be a mirror because every time he saw you from then on, he brandished the same beam. He recalls how his eyes went low as he dropped his script to his lap and stared at your lips, so soft and kissable, as you repeated his words back to him: “When life was beginning, I saw you.” Then you chuckled softly as Tom waited patiently for his head and his heart to return to him.

“I’m sorry. I’m dyslexic. I have a bit of trouble reading.”

“It’s cool, I'm the first A.D. That’s what I’m here for.”

You rubbed your hands on the back of your trousers, your mic jostling in your back pocket as you attempted to rid yourself of your nervous, sweaty palms.

“I’m Y/N.” You reached out for a shake only for Tom to cough loudly into his own hand. 

“Fuck! I’m so sorry! That wasn’t me trying to get out of your handshake. I- I-.” Tom looked at his hand for it had failed him for the first time in his life. His hand that had helped him up during handstands, being his crutch through cartwheels and backflips, but had decidedly run out of luck to be on the receiving end of Tom’s monstrous cough impending a handshake with someone his eyes just couldn’t look away from.

You laugh again. Your laugh sounds like melody, Tom muses. Awestruck, he wishes he could play it again, repeat it like a radio hit and never wash himself of the feeling he got when he heard your laugh for the first time.

“It’s all good. I’ll see you around.” You disappear from his trailer, likely on a venture to your own, when Joe and Anthony block his view of you walking away.

Anthony and Joe take on the ghost of you in Tom’s room, “Tom! The man, the myth and the legend!” Joe comes behind him to rub his newly hairless head. “We’re so glad you agreed to do this movie!” 

“Bummed that you’re not coming to the Browns game tonight, though.” Anthony remarks, throwing a football at Joe who sets it in his lap.

“Harry and I, we’re British, mate. We play football with our feet.”

Joe doesn’t know it then, but his next words are the beginning of the end for Tom. He rubs on his football and looks Tom in his eye when he poses, “It’s a shame ‘cause the whole crew’s going. First day of filming celebrations.”

“The whole crew?”

Anthony mumbles an ‘mhm’ as he picks up a framed photo of Tom and RDJ sitting pretty on Tom’s dresser, posing like father and son.

Tom’s usually self assured when he’s on set, but he’s hesitant to say this next improvised line. His voice trails off as he speaks. “Including Y/N?”

“Y/N?” Joe queries, with a smile that’s half scary and half comforting, and the butterflies in Tom’s stomach are begging him not to fuck this up and suddenly every second a word is not spoken feels like hours have passed and he might have ruined things before they’ve even started, gosh he just met you and-

Tom tries to play it cool. “I don’t- they’re cool.” Tom coughs again. “I mean, I don’t really know them but Y/N seems cool I guess.”

Anthony and Joe smile at each other, scrambling to exit. “Whole crew’s going, baby!” Joe beams.

“Please don’t tell Y/N I asked!” Tom shouts before they’re out of earshot.

“Yeah, yeah. Anthony, go long!”

A few hours later, Tom was sitting next to an unamused Harry, you on his left, foam fingers pointing every which way. 

“Are you a big football fan?” Tom asked, imposter syndrome creeping up on him. He had the best seats in the house, but knew not a thing about this sport he’d come down to watch. Meanwhile, crew and crowd alike sat themselves around you guys, cheering leaving throats raw for days to come and a tussle for a foam finger between Joe and Anthony leading to hundreds of sugary popcorn shells scattered on the stadium floor.

“I mean, I wouldn’t ever turn down the option to look at Odell Beckham Jr. Are you?” you replied.

Tom looked over to his brother who sat with his chin in his hand, lips pulled into a thin straight line as his rusty curls were blown about from the wind of brown and orange flags flown from fans behind him. “We could learn to love it.” Tom flashed you a toothy grin, unsure of where to guide the conversation next. He knew for sure that he wanted to keep talking to you, but his ego began putting up a fight, eager to show himself off if you’d have him in any way. Tom sighed. “Truth is, we have no fucking clue what’s going on.” Tom could hear the commentary about a player reaching the end zone, but they were all just words that went into one ear then came straight out of the other.

You giggled. “I have no idea either. We could make up our own rules if you want.”

Tom likes the way you think. He also likes the way you speak. He loves the way you laugh.

“You have a beautiful laugh.” 

You covered your mouth. “Oh, fuck, I hate my laugh!”

“I’d make you laugh a thousand times if I could.”

You pointed to the jumbo screen as Mayfield made a touchdown, unable to stop laughing from sheer nerves as you felt Tom’s hot, burning haze on you. An advert for Cleveland’s Own Phoenix Coffee flashed on the screen as you spoke. “We’ll make our own rules. Every time we see the quarterback pick up the ball, we’ll cheer.”

By the end of the night, Tom is speechless, breathless and over the edge of his chair in faux excitement and anticipation of the quarterback receiving the ball once again. 

“Another coffee?” The service worker asked.

“Yes please!” You and Tom both say in unison, pumped as the quarterback began circling around to collect the ball in open arms.

The footage of the game is cut abruptly as the camera points to a confused, solo Harry; Anthony and Joe are seen at the edge of the frame whispering suggestively and pointing towards Tom, the camera eventually capturing the superstar who looks back up at his own reflection. Poorly green screened hearts flood the screen and the camera pans to include you in the frame too. Tom looks on in horror when he realises what’s going on and how it could be too late, and turns to you.

“I promise I didn’t know this was going on. We don’t have to.” Tom panics. 

You hear him loud and clear, that you don’t have to, but your heart and eleven thousand people are telling you to kiss him otherwise. “Oh well. We should just do it.” you murmur, the bright pink ‘KISSCAM’ logo flashing in and out.

It doesn’t take more than a moment for the gap between you and Tom to close, for your face to get lost behind his, his lips pressing against yours, eyes closed, trusting each other to share your air. This was probably the first thing that night worth cheering for, howls and whistles erupting around you. 

Tom doesn’t understand American football, but he thinks that the best seats in the house could be anywhere next to you.

Harry’s on the phone to his twin brother, Sam, when you and the rest of the crew make it back to the hotel later on. “-Yeah, and Tom spent half the night with the first A.D. cheering and screaming at fuck all.”

The Cleveland Browns lost that night, but Tom remains none the wiser. He stood in the doorway as Harry continued to relay his day to Sam. “Oh, and Tom, Mum said to give her a call, eavesdropper.” He flicks Tom’s reddening nose before closing the door.

A week and a half later, Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. He never has the time anymore to attend ‘real’ football games back home, and he actually understands the game back in Britain. But now, he’s cheered at almost every given opportunity to impress you stupidly, and his chest and voice is suffering as a consequence.

You and Tom walked onto set with your pinkies intertwined, growing closer and closer by the minute, but Tom doesn’t miss how Ciara’s boyfriend visits set every day for her, doesn’t miss how they rub their nose together in this lovey-dovey affection he wishes he could bestow upon you.

The scene wasn’t working.

The crew was beginning to grow restless and Tom silently became more frustrated as the minutes went by and he was unable to get his lines right. He remembers how a week ago, it felt so easy. You were there to correct him when he stumbled upon his lines and you picked him up so effortlessly, a twinkling smile on your face. But then? Then you were different. Your eyes were scrunched up behind the lens of the camera and you were mumbling something to Anthony about how the sun was due to go down in Ohio soon so you needed to hurry along.

“Alright.” you announced. “Take five!”

And Tom was thankful, Ciara perched upon a swing for the scene they were filming, Tom dwindling the rope of the swing under his finger as her boyfriend approached her once again. “Hey dude, are you okay?”

Ciara looked at Tom with the same concern, hands finding home in her boyfriend’s nest of hair. “Yeah, Tom, are you okay?”

Tom coughed into his hand. “Yeah, guys, I’m good.”

“I think you’re coming down with a nasty cough.” Ciara muttered.

“Yeah. It’s you guys. You’re too cute. You make me sick.” Tom laughed humourlessly for a short while, wanting to be that adorable with someone, maybe not anyone, maybe just with you someday. Then Tom shook his head, a bitter feeling in his throat as he yawned. “It’s the Browns game. I was yelling and screaming every time a quarterback got the ball. Of course I’m a little unwell. I’ll be good as new in a few days though.”

Ciara already knew Tom wasn’t playing a man with the healthiest of habits, but she worried that Tom was getting this bad this early. “Maybe you should talk to the first A.D. about reducing shoot days from five to three?”

Tom didn’t like the prospect of seeing you less. “Yeah.” Harry had a clapperboard between his hands, leading Tom’s eyebrows to furrow as his brother yelled something about it being take 13. “Maybe.” 

Harry resumed to a new position in your chair, with you taking Harry’s place right across from Tom, a coffee waiting for him when the scene was over like Harry always did. Ciara’s boyfriend left the frame to watch supportively on the sidelines.

“Lights. Camera. Action!” Anthony called. “Time is money, you guys! Let’s try to get this one right this time.” 

They’d been over this already twelve times today.

“Hey, I’m really happy you’re here.”

Ciara read her line back. “Why’s that?” 

Tom could hear whispers of the crew, the sound guy glaring at them in case they were picked up in the scene, and he knew it had something to do with the fact that he couldn’t for some reason get the next line out all day. And that reason, unbeknownst to everyone, was because Tom couldn’t say something he didn’t mean - feeling like his heart was locked in a cage for which only you had the key. He looked past his co-star, Ciara, and up at you; feeling so close but you were far away, leaving him all day without anything to say. And overcoming his speechlessness and breathlessness, even in just that moment, he ran his hand over the rope to say, “Cause I like you. A lot.”

Ciara and the rest of the crew broke into a wide smile once Tom finally spoke his next line, but the only person Tom was focused on was you, who wasn’t smiling, but mouthing his words back to him.

Ciara breathed, “Shut up.”

And Tom’s sure to look you in the eye when he says, “I really do.”

When the filming for the day is said and done, Tom makes a beeline for you across the greenery. You hand over his coffee to him, “It’s a little cold now, but a warm hand is holding it.”

Tom quirks an eyebrow. “Are you inviting me to hold your hand?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“You swapped jobs with Harry, I saw.”

“Yeah, well. It’s good he gets to grips with the job now. You know, in case anything changes.” You pulled your phone out of your pocket. “I should probably give you my number. In case anything changes.”

“Oh no, yeah. Your number is?”

“216-XXX-XXX. Speaking of changes, I heard you’re trying to get your days reduced.”

“You were eavesdropping?” Tom looks at your face that bears no trace of guilt. “You’re just like me!” He pulls you close.

“Tom, if what happened today is because you’re working too much, I’m happy to reduce your time.”

“Nah, nah.” Tom sniffles, rubbing his nose on a jacket probably worth more than your life. “I’m just a bit sick, s’all. I’ll be fine.”

Two weeks pass and Tom’s no better. With the Cleveland game nearly a month ago, Tom has nothing to blame and as first A.D., you’re obligated to reduce his hours. Tom’s on the phone with his mother when you approach his trailer. 

“Don’t listen to Harry. I’m not in love. I just like Y/N.”

“A lot. I’ll keep you updated. Bye, Mum.” 

You’re so quick to skip happily back to your trailer that you miss Harry calling out to his brother, he’s his protector now that his mother was countries apart. “Tom?” Harry starts.

Tom mumbles an ‘mhm’, hoping Harry would make it quick as he sees you FaceTiming him. If only his mother could see him like this. He’d get to call her tomorrow and tell her he’d called you for the first time yesterday, he could hardly wait to utter, 'I've finally found the missing part of me’. Harry sighs as the FaceTime ringing is relentless. Tom’s eyebrows threaten to meet in the middle of his face as he clutches onto his phone.

“Tom.” Harry begins. “Y/N is giving up assistant director.”

Tom’s really not sure where Harry gets the source of his information from, but he’s sure this isn’t true. He thinks you’d tell him before his brother if you were leaving the film behind, leaving him behind.

The film is due to move filming to Morocco soon, and Tom’s well aware that not all film crew joins them when production moves abroad, but to Tom, you’re an extension of this movie universe. And Tom refuses to leave the memories of you in this filming cycle. “How’d you know?”

“I’m taking over.” Tom’s screen lights up with the glow of your call, and as bright as it is, as bright as you are, as bright as your smile surely is on the other end of the phone call, Tom’s in his deepest darkest feelings wondering how he fooled himself into thinking romance could go right for him this time. 

He’s going to Morocco. You’re not. You’re funny, smart, promising, beautiful. You’ll find someone good for you, a better pair by the time he’s back.

“That doesn’t mean it won’t work out, man.” Tom sulks in his bed, the light from your constant calls bleeding through his bed sheets. “I just wanted to warn you.” Tom nods, screaming into his pillow. Harry decides that’s his cue to leave, a glimmer of light from outside seeping through the crack of the door as Harry escorts himself. Tom musters all his might and courage to reluctantly answer your phone, the ear-to-ear grin he knows so well greeting him once again.

Suddenly, he forgot how to speak. Hopeless, breathless, couldn’t you see that?

“Tom?” You call out his name a few times before cutting straight to the point. “Do you like me?”

Tom shifts slightly but not enough to show that he’s alarmed. “Huh? Yeah, I like you.”

He sits up, but doesn’t reciprocate the outrageous smile you wear like a heart on your sleeve. Tom’s eyes are sunken, dark circles forming under his eyes where he and his disturbed character become one. You suddenly remember why you shouldn’t have run away so fast, perhaps Tom was overworking himself. He continues, “But I’m an emotionally unavailable hopeless romantic. So I wouldn’t waste your time on me.”

Tom can’t help the hurt in his heart when he sees your smile drop so suddenly, knowing it was earnest. “Tom, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, life is unfair. And I’m gonna quit while I’m ahead. We wouldn’t work out. And I like our friendship now. We should stay that way.”

You’re not convincing when you nod rapidly, not letting Tom see your face as you play with your fingers to avoid his gaze. “Yeah, I agree.” You’re much less convincing when the last frame Tom caught of you was a shot of tears dripping down your face, as three rings followed you. Tom’s screen went black in your absence, and Tom falls asleep with eyes even redder from crying, and he wonders when he’s gonna shake this sickness.

It’d been a few days since Tom had got his shots to allow him to go to Morocco. He sat opposite the doctor on set, a coffee cup placed on the desk between him.

Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. Shots always have their side effects, and he’d taken multiple shots in one day. And now, he specifically asked for you to hold his hand during the process, Harry branded in a glinting jaw-drop, only for you to leave directly after. 

“I’m speechless, constantly feeling over the edge, breathless.” Tom explains his symptoms to the doctor. “At first I thought it was because of that stupid football game, then all the coffee I’m drinking, now I don’t know if it’s the shots. I feel like shit, doc.”

“I know exactly what you’re dealing with.”

“What?”

“Lovebug.”

Tom stares at the doctor in utter bewilderment. “You figured that out based on my symptoms?”

“I figured that out based on the puppy dog eyes you gave for your first A.D. when they left without a word.” The doctor begins to laugh softly, but Tom is unamused. How is he supposed to shake this illness after completely ruining your relationship? How is he supposed to mend your bond after talking so recklessly, so emotionally? “Tom, I’m not here to be a fairy godmother, I’m being strictly medical. At a certain point, what you feel in your mind affects your body. So I prescribe that you talk to Y/N and say everything you need to say.”

And while that seemed easy enough, Tom’s ego was at work again, and Tom was feeling far too bruised and wounded to speak to you first. Surely if you cared enough, if you liked him back, if you were willing to be distanced, you would reach out first.

It seems Tom’s pride had forgotten that you already did.

“I heard that this is the exact shit that happened in Cleveland, and he couldn’t get the line out.” Tom hears the whisperings from behind the camera, the amount of familiar faces in the crew dwindling after the change in location. He doesn’t respond. He waits for someone to take five. And when no one throws him a bone, he asks Harry to.

“Alright, everyone take five.”

“Someone get this kid a fucking coffee, he’s always on edge.” Joe instructs.

“And you think giving a kid in twenties coffee is taking him off edge?” Anthony chuckles.

Tom doesn’t care whether or not he gets the coffee, rocking side to side. He’s got all the motion for this role, but he feels nothing. All he felt was for you.

“Here.” Harry sets a Moroccan mint tea down next to Tom, hoping it would calm him down. When Tom takes a few sips, the look in his eyes is less pleading, and everyone’s ready to rumble, this being the last scene of the day.

Harry feeds Tom the line. “Baby, are you seeing bad things?” Tom is seeing bad things. A life without love, a life without you. Unable to contain it all, Tom turns his frustration into laughter. “Why are you calling me baby for, man?” Tom has this ear-to-ear grin but even he feels it's not as innocent, as genuine as yours. He never knew a smile so wide could be so full of pain.

“I have an idea.” Harry saunters off to collect his phone. “Don’t stop rolling the cameras.”

When Harry comes back, there’s sounds of shifting erupting from his phone. “Hi, Tom.” 

Tom didn’t know it would be so bittersweet to hear your voice again. He wasn’t sure if he should put walls up again or if twice was the charm. Even if you worked out in the short term, whose to say Tom wouldn’t get hurt again? And Tom wouldn’t want to hurt you.

“Are they taking good care of you out there? I don’t think I took good care of you.” Tom doesn’t say anything on the other side of the line, so you continue. “I’m not a good A.D. if you’re always sick and tired, and I didn’t want to see you any less, which was selfish of me, so I didn’t change your schedule.” You sigh as you admit why you left. “When you asked, though, I swear I was gonna do it, but then I heard you liked me, and I got carried away. I had to remove myself from the situation to do what’s best for you. Do you understand me? I did it for you.”

“I, uh, I got a diagnosis.” Tom stumbles.

“Oh my gosh, are you seriously sick?”

“I’m speechless. Over the edge, breathless.” Tom laughed dryly, finally feeling like he can choose an ending.

“What did they say it was?”

“Lovebug.” Harry smiles softly at his brother.

Your laugh is like nectar entering Tom’s ear.

“I might just love you way too much, Y/N.”

“Are you sure you’re doin’ okay?” Tom tries his best not to sound dejected that you didn’t say it back, knowing he’s already felt the brunt of this heartache already.

“I just miss you, that’s all.”

“I miss you too. I love you.” Joe stops recording, and Harry lowly whispers ‘take.fucking.five.’ as he and the crew creep away from Tom’s new found love scene. 

“Anthony, can I borrow your phone?” Harry begins to type Nikki’s number as soon as Anthony gives over the phone. “Mum, Tom just told the first A.D. he’s in love with them so guess who’s out of a job?”

Tom knows why he’s sick. He used to feel like love was trudging up a high hill he couldn’t come down from, where every beat of heart was feeling like an ache on an open wound. Tom had yet to meet a lover to prove distance makes the heart grow fonder, finding himself in six month long entanglements and illusions of love before things inevitably went sour. But now, Tom has found you.