#the warmth and homey-ness of it all

[seiwas]

hi hi! just dropping be blessed by your thoughts ✏️!!

also — your writing makes me think of thoughtful prose written with a fountain pen and reading it under candlelight. + of hushed “i love you’s” and stolen glances in crowded rooms. + it makes me think of comfort and security + of how love grows like ivy, slowly engulfing someone’s entire being (col!!)

augustine!! 🥺 thank you for playing 🤍

your writing reminds me of:

🥘🛋️🌳💌

coming home to freshly cooked meals, scent wafting through through the door; lazy sundays on the couch, blanket thrown over; sunshine during walks along the park; an old friend, one you always want to see again.

&

omg 🥺 ur description augustine i am !! so flattered and touched !! u put it so beautifully !!! thank you thank you thank you !! i am keeping that in my heart forever 😭 how love grows like ivy omfG heLp & stolen glances across the room (im a sucker for that!!) aaah

send me a ✏️ and i’ll tell you what ~~vibe i get from your writing! (alternatively, you can also tell me what vibe you get from mine!)

[samsvenn]

Would you do some hc's about sakamaki's cuddling with their significant other??

𝐜𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐬

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲 𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞𝐬

shu’s cuddles are filled with utter warmth and homey-ness. he loves letting you play with his hair and scalp massages have him melting like a pot of honey.

his fingers love to slowly trace along your veins, drawing mindless patterns across your lower back and spine. cuddles with him are mostly out of boredom; a time-waster to let the eldest have an excuse to drift off to his safe place, you.

cuddling with reiji makes you realize how touch starved the poor man is. you can see it from the way his hands trail after yours when you reach for your phone, the way he gently presses your head to face the same direction as his when your eyes stare way too long at his beakers, and the way his breathing changes when you let his rest his tired, pretty head atop your chest and rub his tensed temples.

all the stress leaves the man like cold, arid vapor floating towards the moonlight once he croons into your neck and soft, circles along his back welcome him to loving bliss - something that was definitely uncommon for the dork.

it felt unreal how peaceful ayato felt to the touch. there was no more boisterous, booming man-child that’d snap your neck if you ever pointed out how vulnerable he was although the possibility always lingered, depending on how cocky he was feeling that day.

the moment he sank into your plush arms and of course, chest, it was as if time stopped and ayato wasn’t the arrogant, aggregating vampire who’d make fun of you for every little flaw you have.

instead, little murmurs of vengeful possession would lull the man into grasping you tight and sin your skin to be his. both your legs twisted and interlocked with each other, fluffy red ringlets laying on top of your cheek.

his grip on you often felt like an inescapable prison. was it a cover up for his underlying abandonment issues? you’d never know the truth. however, all it took was a simple caress pressed to the corner of lips and you knew, his glassy spring-green eyes whispered so much to you; or perhaps in another sense, it even needed.

with laito, the line was barely there, yet you knew to enforce it. this man has probably done this before, countless times and with countless prey before.

but did you care? absolutely not. to care was to give him power on a pretty platter, so you took it away and didn’t look back. his touch longed for you - pleading, pretty feline eyes that promised to take you to a world of pleasure, eager hips grinding against your waist, hands keen on making you a mindless slave, and deadly venomous words that were laced and wrapped with temptation.

it was an artform at its finest. however, laito forgot that there were two pieces of art at its definition: art that made you feel and art that was so perfectly and intricately made, to the point where it felt ingenuine. it was clear where laito fell.

to try and somewhat deflect this, you fought him at his own battle: you peppered pecks to ends of his eyebrows, laid still and held him gently, as if his advances were just another part of laito being his usual self and that it didn’t matter anymore.

for the first time in a while, laito stayed quiet. and, as he held your hand, a dry chuckle bounced on your ears. he leaned more into the cuddle, until there was nothing more separating your bodies, including his desperation.

cuddling with kanato always felt like he needs you. despite his harsh words and the constant comments about various replacements, he clings to you like a lifeline. there’s always harsh nail marks on your arms and back from how hard he digs his digits into you.

thanks to his petite frame, it’s easy to position in a way that he’s laying on top of your lap and letting him nap on your shoulder. kanato likes this position too, mostly due to how much access he has to your blood and heartbeat.

with kanato, there is no such thing as a break from cuddling. you’re either together or you somehow ended up in a coffin. his nose and lips are always pressed to your skin. whether it’s your neck, the skin behind your ear, the fold that connects your collarbone or simply suckling onto one of you fingers like a pacifier as he falls asleep, it’s a reminder that you’re real and you haven’t escaped.

yet.

like his brothers, kanato is extremely touchy. his skin itches for you and he’ll throw a big tantrum the moment you stop coddling him.

“I will dismember your hands with a fork if you continue to rebel against me. Now, if you please, touch me as you desire and let your greed run wild… Or else my patience will be the one running thin.”

subaru was an interesting cuddle buddy. there’s a mental back-and-forth whenever your warmth distracted him from his other usual self-degrading thoughts. ‘i don’t want this, i don’t need this, why am i like this, this is just a physical altercation and all i need to do is punch some scumbag to feel better-’

these thoughts serve to sever himself from how close he is to being intimate and vulnerable with you. of course, it doesn’t work. the care you’re showing makes him forget all the things his mother has thrown at him as a child. whenever you two cuddle and you hold his ruffled bedhead to your heart, it’s the closest subaru has ever felt-

-to being deemed as loveable. and probably, it’ll be the closest subaru will ever come to loving himself - using the sense-losing warmth of your bodies as a proxy.

[sevendeadlymorons]

mc who smells good naturally with the brothers + undatables if possibl ♡´･ᴗ･`♡♡︎

Oh. A wholesome one 🤧🥺

Brothers + Undateables Reaction to an MC Who Naturally Smells Good

—————————————————

Lucifer

Loves having you around

Every time you step into the room, your familiar smell comforts him

He normally invites you to sit with him just because he finds he gets more work done when you’re in his presence

Oddly reminds him of home and enjoys burying his face into your skin to take in your smell

Loves cuddling because it means he gets to relax and melt into your embrace, being lulled to sleep by your soothing scent

Can’t and never can get enough of you

Mammon

Shittt what shampoo you using, he wants some of that

Straight up smells you sometimes, he ain’t ashamed

Loves being around you because you just bring that slight pinch of peace into his life

Hugs and cuddles are a must as it means he gets to be around you and your familiar smell

It’s so relaxing, he can’t explain it, but it’s like all his stress is gone whenever you’re around

Buries his head into your neck. Loves. Your. Smell.

Leviathan

Literally knows it’s you whenever you walk into a room and has an immediate smile on his face

Gets all giddy whenever you’re around as it means whatever room you’re in will continue to smell like you for a while

Sometimes subtly gives you his clothes so he can smell your scent on it later

Yes, he sleeps with those clothes

Like Mammon, he straight up smells you. Very nervously of course, but he can’t help it

Hugs you so much, all the damn time, and he always buries his face into your neck and hair to once again smell your soothing aroma that fills him with so much joy

Satan

Honestly, you smell better than brand new books

Absolutely adores how you smell like autumn leaves to him and makes it his mission, whenever he reads a book, to read it next to you

You fill him with this sense of peace that he’s never felt before, so he wants to make the most of it

All rage that he felt before hand is gone as soon as you step into the room, and a huge smile is plastered on his face until you step out again

Actually sorta jealous that cats are just naturally drawn to you, but as long as he’s surrounded in cats, he’s fine with it

Occasionally drags you into his embrace and subtly smells you. He uses it as a way to calm down and also to just get close to you

Asmodeus

You have got to tell him what perfume you use

He’s nuzzling into you 24/7, taking in your smell as much as he can

Shamelessly takes multiple whiffs of you throughout the day

Loves cuddling so Damn much because it means his clothes and bed will smell like you for the rest of the day

Jealous he can’t smell like you so sometimes he sneakily takes your clothes so he can

Sleeps cuddled up to said clothes as it relaxes him when he’s stressed out

Beelzebub

You smell better than food to him

He loves hanging out with you and taking in your smell

Finds your presence relaxing to him and he now needs to be around you the majority of the day to stay calm and stress free

You remind him of good memories, ones that make him happy

Cuddles. All the time. Enjoys spooning so he can smell your hair, and honestly has to restrain himself from eating it

Drags you onto his lap very often so he can be closer to you and he can smell like you for the rest of the day

Belphegor

He needs that smell of yours to sleep

He’s literally forgotten how to sleep without your calming scent right next to him

So guess who your new roommate is?

Cuddles pretty much all day, every day. He doesn’t care what you have planned, you’re napping with him so he can feel his stress melt away and your familiar calming smell take over him

He’s pretty much glued to you, attracted to your warmth, your smell and your comfortable shoulder and lap

He’ll wander around like a lost lamb if he can’t find you, his mood turning south until he spots you, to which he’ll smile deeply and cling to you once again

Diavolo

Reminds him of home and he loves it

Whenever you’re around him, it’s like there’s nothing to be upset or stressed about

Sits you on his lap and rests his head on your shoulder, taking in your placid smell and letting the stress he once felt disappear

Can’t get enough of the cuddles. Loves smelling you during it and loves smelling you on him after it

He’ll pull you into a random embrace, sometimes just out of knowhere, just so he can be near you

He wants you by his side much more often

Barbatos

Reminds him of the kitchen that he loves so dearly

Can easily tell it’s you when you walk in a room and straight away has a smile on his face without even having to look at you

Has never been one for affection but can’t stop himself when it comes to you

He’s surprisingly clingy, always glued to your side so he can envelop in your aroma

Hugs are constant whenever he’s around, wrapping his arms around you like you’re a teddy bear and rubbing his face into your neck

Cuddles with him become more frequent when he realises the stress he once felt is gone when you���re in his embrace

Simeon

Holy shit, you smell like heaven

Finds himself wanting to be around you more often, and to smell your familiar homey scent

Whenever you are around him, it’s constant hugs and resting on your shoulder so he can savour your smell

Tries not to be creepy about it, but it’s been a while since he’s felt this comfortable around soneone, so won’t hold back if he wants to take a quick sniff

He very rarely cuddles but he can’t hold himself back around you, wrapping his arms tightly around you and pulling you close to him, rubbing his face into your neck

Solomon

Hasn’t smelt such a calming smell like this in a while. He can’t get enough of it

He loves how you bring life to the room around you and fill it with this sense of belonging and homey-ness

Has you sit with him when he’s trying out new potions or spells, as he finds himself to be more focused whenever you’re there

Couple sneaky waist grabs and neck sniffs throughout the day

Makes you sit on his lap a lot just so he can smell like you for a while

Cuddles you pretty often, pulling you towards him by your waist so he can get a better smell of you, rubbing his face in your hair

Luke

You smell like freshly baked sweets and cakes to him

Reminds him of his home in a way and it makes him really happy

He’s never smelt something so peacful and settling to him and he’s slowly but surely beginning to rely on it

Likes spending time with you and being around your smell, it calms him down

He always comes to you if he’s stressed out or sad and gives you this massive hug, burying his face into your stomach

If he’s sitting next to you, he’ll sometimes just slump onto your arm so he can feel all his frustration drift away from the meer aroma of you

[ehstarwar]

under thy own life’s key (1/7)

“The top bunk is missing something.”

“What?”

“Something very important.”

“Rey.”

“A mattress.”

She feels him take a deep breath, chest rising and falling beneath her hands.

“You don’t have to sleep on the floor. We can just… share.”

-

Ben and Rey share a bed on a trip and everything is totally normal and nothing is weird.

-

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2K

Read on AO3

Notes: the sharing a bed trope is the only thing keeping serotonin production in my head, so plz enjoy （´∀｀）ノ♡

Chapter 1: all the world's my way

-

“I think you’re being a little ridiculous.” 

“I am not being ridiculous. If anything, I think I’m being over-cautious; but even that is a stretch.”

“I bet you’re secretly one of those doomsday preppers, who has a titanium panic room with a years worth of food and an armory hidden in their basement.”

“I don’t have a basement.”

“In your closet, then. Or behind a bookshelf. I know you have those.”

“We are going into the mountains. With steep hills and rough terrain and a ton of potential areas to get into an accident. It is helpful to have a car with four-wheel drive.”

“Helpful, not necessary. Your fancy, new, four-wheel drive car does not negate the possibility of us getting into an accident.”

“I does mean that if we do get into an accident, we’ll be more likely to come out unharmed than if we crashed with your death-trap ,of what charitably would be considered, a Tonka Truck. I’d honestly be shocked to find out your car had two-wheel drive at this point, Rey.”

Rey snaps her head towards him, mouth agape in shock and rage.

“My AT-AT is in perfect condition for it’s age, thank you very much.” She crosses her arms and turns her head to stare out the passenger side window, hoping Ben could feel her contempt through her body language.

“For day-to-day life, in a relatively flat city; absolutely. For traversing unfamiliar territory, maybe not,” Ben shrugged. Rey wished she could loathe him for his effortless coolness, but he was Ben. Best friend, always answers her text, brings her food whenever she asks him, lets her use his fancy washer and dryer, changes her air filters without asking, picks up her drink tab more often than not, Ben. 

Also, it’s hard to hate someone when it’s July, and their air conditioner is in perfect working condition, and her’s is… not. Instead, Rey just sits there, giving Ben the silent treatment.

After a terse five minutes of driving, Rey hears Ben sigh and signal to turn. When Rey looks over to see where he’s turning, she sees her favorite restaurant of all time; McDonalds.

She looks over at him, seeing the sheepish expression and knows one thing for sure.

No, she definitely can’t hate Ben.

-

It’s nearing eleven when Rey and Ben finally make it to the cabin with all their friends. After hours of winding roads and steep cliffs, both Ben and Rey are overcome with delight when they see the first sign of civilization in the form of their friends cars. 

Though she would never admit it, Rey was very thankful that Ben insisted on driving them. Atty could not have made it on at least four of those inclines and she’s not sure how Ben knew it would come to that, but that’s a discussion for another time. Preferably when they haven’t been driving for six hours, with only McDonalds to sustain them for the majority of the way. They’re both essentially dead on their feet when they arrive to a drunken chorus of ‘Oh, he’s a jolly good fellow.’

“There you two are! I’ve been worried sick about you for the last three hours! Why haven’t you responded to any of my text?” Hux’s nasally voice shouted at her and Ben as soon as they exited the car. 

“Good to see you, too, Armie,” Ben shouts over his shoulder. Hux looks like he’s about to kill Ben (he’s always been such an angry drunk) when his fiancée comes stumbling over, pushing all four of them into a group hug. 

“Ugh I was so worried about you guys. Couldn’t stop picturing your car driving right off a cliff and the bears finding you and flinging your corpses all over the forrest. Would’ve miss you guys at the wedding.” Poe’s drunken ramblings always made for a good story time the next day, but Rey was pretty sure this one would be skipped. 

“Aw, Poe. You really underestimate Ben’s driving skills. He only ran over, like, four squirrels!” Rey teased, pulling Poe’s arms off them. Ben shot her a nasty look, but Rey just smiled back at him. 

“Well regardless, I’m glad you’re here. In one piece. Well, two pieces. Two complete pieces.” Hux’s face contorts in confusion as he tries to figure out what he’s trying to say. Rey just laughs and goes to help Ben grab their luggage from the trunk. 

Ben has two suit cases that Rey is sure are packed pristinely and contain everything he could possibly need for the upcoming week, whereas Rey has her largest duffle bag (that doesn’t contain any holes), with clothes toiletries haphazardly stuffed in there.

“Okay, so since you guys got here last, I’ll warn you that you get the last pick of rooms. But, like, don’t worry. Your room is super nice… for a basement. But it has it’s own ensuite, which is like super nice,” Poe slurs. 

“Room? Singular?” Ben asks as they follow Poe and hue into the cabin. 

“The cabin only has six rooms, Benjamin. Something you’d be aware of if you’d gotten here sooner.” Rey can’t see Ben’s expression behind her, but she just knows he’s rolling his eyes at Hux.

“It’s got bunk beds! How fuckin awesome is that! Babe, we should’ve taken the bunk bend room. Do you think we should trade?” Poe’s face lights up until he sees the look of disgust Hux has. 

“We have the master suite darling, We are not trading.”

Ben hurmps behind her and Rey has to keep herself from laughing. The cabin itself is beautiful. Large open living room that leads into the kitchen. Floor to ceiling windows the look over the mountain its perched on. The warmth of the fire can be felt all around, giving the cabin such a homey feel.  Part of her wishes she’d worn flannel, just to feel like she fit it her surroundings. But the late-July heat of Chandrila would have been unbearable. 

Rey saunters on, following an unsteady Hux and Poe down a doorway beneath the stair case. It’s tight and winding and Rey has to resist the urge to turn around and see the undoubtably cramped Ben. She would probably laugh too hard, loose her footing and send them all plummeting down the stairs to their deaths. Not the best way to start the bachelor weekend. 

When they make it through another doorway, a small room, containing the pre-assured bunk bed and a small dresser with a TV out of the 1950s’ on top, Rey began feeling the annoyance she’s sure Ben was.

“Okay so, this is the room and that door is the bathroom and… behind us are the stairs. The kitchen is upstairs too. SO are the rest of the rooms. Well, ours is on the second floor. Or the third?” Poe turns to Hux, who is already going back up the stairs, tossing a ‘goodnight’ over his shoulder. Poe follows him up, leaving Ben and Rey in the room alone. 

“It’s… quaint.”

“It’s a shoebox,” Ben huffs, setting down his luggage. 

“I kind of like it. It’ll be like summer camp!” Rey wants to stay optimistic, knowing that spending the next six days in here will be better if she has a partner that’s not so broody. Like Ben is prone to be. Like he absolutely will be unless Rey wears him down. 

“We should see if someone is willing to change rooms-”

“Benjamin Solo, we will not be changing rooms with anybody tonight. They are all drunk. Like, three-dollar-margs-at-Maz’s drunk. If we use our sobriety to con some unsuspecting friend out of their room, we will not hear the end of it. And I, for one, don’t want to start the week off on the wrong foot.” Rey crosses her arm, hopefully showing a steely and firm demeanor. Not that her 5’7 stature is much against his 6’3 sasquatch-ness, but she tries.

Ben hangs his head and she knows she’s won. “Fine, we’ll barter in the morning.”

“Fine. As a gift to you, I will even take the top bunk so that you don’t hit your head on the ceiling. Ya know, with your freakishly tall body, and all,” Rey says. She doesn’t mention that it’s been her life goal to be able to have the top bunk on a bunk bed. One she’s sure she should have outgrown, but clearly hasn't. 

“How generous of you,” Ben says, like he knows. He turns around and walks into the bathroom, probably going to inspect just how much it doesn’t meet his standards. Rey decided so survey her territory and begins climbing  the ladder onto her bunk. 

By the time she makes it to the top of the ladder it is clear that something is missing. Something essential to a bed. Something that makes her second guess using her power of lucidness to take one of her friends room. Something that makes her cringe as she calls out for Ben.

“Yeah?” He asks sticking his head out of the bathroom. 

“The top bunk is missing something.”

“What?”

“Something very important.”

“Rey.”

“A mattress.”

Rey makes it a habit to never let Ben frown. Mostly because he’s her best friend and she’s heard frowning can induce early-onset wrinkles and a whole slew of other reasons that she’s unwilling to admit to herself. But she knows there isn’t much she can do to stop it now.

“That’s it; I’m going to Poe. We shouldn’t be punished for being the last ones here. This is ridiculous-” Ben goes to march up the stairs, but Rey flings herself in front of him, putting her hands on his chest to stop him.

“It is not that big of a deal. I’ll just… make a pallet on the floor. It’s really no trouble.”

“Rey, you shouldn’t have to-”

“It’ll be just like old times! I used to do this all the time when I was a kid. Honestly, I’ll be okay.” Ben goes rigid at her words. Rey thinks he might be the only other person in the world who resents how she grew up as much as she does. This is also something Rey is unwilling to admit to herself as to why.

She feels him take a deep breath, chest rising and falling beneath her hands.

“You don’t have to sleep on the floor. We can just… share,” Ben says, making Rey smile. 

“Really? You don’t mind?” She implores. He shrugs, remaining indifferent.

“You don’t snore… too badly.” Rey playfully swats his chest and Ben just laughs down at her.

Rey is relived by this. It makes her think this will be fine. That it’ll be no big deal. That sharing a bed with her unearthly beautiful and kind best friend who is built like a brick shit-house and cares about her probably more than she cares about herself will be absolutely, totally, completely fine. 

She hopes.

[vanessaxyvonne]

Somewhere Only We Know (Flashback / Update) || Self-Para

When: October 2018; October 2020

Where: London; Santa Monica

Warnings: Heartbreak / Depression

Based on: (x) 

Vanessa was headed home to London. Completely fleeing Santa Monica and from the public eye. She needed time for herself. As her head laid upon the cool glass of the town car that would be transporting her to her destination, she took yet again another shot of whatever rum she couldn’t recall pouring, her eyes fluttering shut as she tried to keep her composure. Finally, the car had stopped and the driver stepped out of the car to open the door for her, she thanked the person and walked up the familiar steps, taking in every memory once more. Once she arrived to the door, she could already smell the homey warmth awaiting her, but all she could hope was that the door would open. carefully, she knocked as she croaked out, “Brooke? Arabella? It’s me, Nessa.”

The door had suddenly cracked open, the brunette twins welcoming their cousin in with excited squeals and open arms. “NESSIEEE?!” Arabella squealed in delight. “Omigosh, what are you doing here, darling? Oh you must be freezing!!” The girl quickly ushered the brunette in as they closed the door. Brooke surveyed her cousin for a moment, her brow furrowing. “Something seems rather off. Usually when you come back from California, you’ve a sunkissed glow! Is something the matter? D’you get sick? Are you pregnant?!” Nessa’s eyes widened, but quickly shook her head.

“Uh oh…” Arabella exchanged a look to her twin. “I know that look…” She trailed off.

“No, Ness–” The younger brunette began to say until the brunette finally settled her bags down and crumpled to the floor in tears. The twins were alarmed at Nessa’s instant reaction and quickly rushed to her side and held her as tightly as they humanly could until the sobbing subsided. She didn’t say anything for that first day, all she did was sit next to the window on the floor, her head resting against the cool glass watching as it rained. While normally Arabella would joke about how Vanessa was movie level dramatic, her heartbreak laid beyond bounds of any sappy romcom to date. This continued for the next few days. Sitting at the window and watching the rain fall, the sun go up and down, the cloudy London skies were never ending. She barely moved, she barely ate. She just sat and watched the world around her continue to move as she sat still. Arabella and Brooke were worried, but knew that they couldn’t force her much, she was stubborn after all, as every Maldette was. Instead, they’d coax her, leaving food nearby, soap for her to shower, but otherwise, the movement was minimal.

For a moment, she forgot about Santa Monica and everything that had happened in it. Instead, it was just her and the trees above again, this time barren, stripped away of their color, but the branches still staring back at her with a certain kind of melancholia that made her want to reach up and take the branch by its hand and attempt to bring back the color. Perhaps it was the Scorpio in her that enjoyed the thought of life and death with colors. It brought her back to how her Avó Maria would always talk about life and death with such vivaciousness and such color. How life was filled with bright blues and purples but death always seemed to be black and white and grey. However, she never saw the grey in death. Always black and white. Then again, she never saw the grey in life either. She always viewed the world as one way or another. It was this or that.

“This or that,” She whispered to herself as she continued to walk, putting the sad song on repeat as she strolled along. As much as she had attempted to know exactly what she was doing with her life, she wasn’t sure at this point. Everything had turned into a violent 360 and at this point she wasn’t sure if she should even return to Santa Monica and dare show her face. She didn’t want to deal with the questions. She didn’t want to deal with the chance of potentially having to move on. This or that, never grey. She could stay in London or go back. She could win him back or let him go. She could be sure of the life she wants or give it up. She could learn more about herself and her faults or choose to run.

All she was ever good at was running away anyways. That was how she landed herself in London, hiding away in her cousins’ flat, hiding herself from the world while her brother, mother, and friends dealt with the fall out. She was sure they’d hate her. She was sure they wouldn’t miss her. Black and white thinking… She told herself. It wasn’t this or that, it wasn’t black and white. There were possibilities. There were chances. She began thinking of all the possibilities but most of them came up negative. Most of them bubbled to the surface made her eyes water and her throat begin to form that uncomfortable lump in the back of her throat. How did she get like this? How did she lose herself amongst the black and white? She wasn’t just classical she was modern.

As Nessa continued to walk around the giant park, she looked up at the sky again. Unsure if she was praying, unsure if she was begging, unsure if she wanted to be struck by lightning, she was clouded by the terrifying uncertainty again. There were millions that hated and admired her, but she only cared about the ones she held near and dear to her heart. Yet here she was, weeks shy of her 23rd birthday and officially unsure of her own future. She should’ve spoken up sooner. The rain began to fall again and so did her tears.

---

Vanessa blinked and here she was again in her beautiful penthouse. She looked upon the horizon as the sunset across the Pacific Ocean, a soft sigh escaped her lips as the melancholy song that reminded her of her sadness, of her despair, confusion, and fear, played faintly in the background. It was the first time in years that she was able to listen to it without breaking down in tears. Without switching the song, without having some sort of outburst.

 For the first time, in a long time, she felt, free. Sure, she still retained “the bitch” status, but she learned to use that as a power and not to let it be seen as something so horribly wrong with her. There was absolutely nothing fucking wrong with her. It was them. She wasn’t “too much”, she had all the right to be suspicious. She had all the right to demand what she deserved and she’d be damned to settle less than the best.

Going over to the refrigerator, she got herself her favorite Ben and Jerry’s flavor, Phish Food and moseyed her way onto the balcony, taking a seat to feel the cool ocean breeze. As the last few chords of the song played, she let out an exhale. Closing her eyes for a moment, recalling the pain she had been put through, but when she opened her eyes, she was once again met with the sunset. She was no longer that girl. That girl that chased after her paramours, begging to be loved. She poured all that love back into herself, focusing on designing, booking more shows to model, thriving, living, connecting. 

So with a smirk, the next song that played just so happened to be her favorite and as she kicked her feet up, she took a bite out of her ice cream with the biggest smirk on her face. 

She was no longer that insecure girl. She was that bitch. And damn proud of it too. 

[johnaavenaaaa]

WHAT IS MODERN RUSTIC DESIGN?

This design style became recognized at some point in the 20th century. It became a very popular style because of both the pleasing and clean-ness associated with the Modern aesthetic, and the character and warmth of the Rustic aesthetic. The Modern Rustic design style is warm, natural and inviting, yet also clean and simple. An open floor plan, modern furnishings and preserved and exposed natural architectural elements is the key to a modern rustic space. The whole point of this style is to get all the charm and warmth of a rustic dwelling, with all of the conveniences and style of a modern home. 

Key elements:

Organic shapes and colors- color palette is often subdued. walls are usually white. or covered in a natural material like wood or stone. earthy neutrals for your base help start to build a calm and cozy space. furniture pieces that have simple and clean lines. organic shapes that might be found in nature. 

Layer in patterns and textures- build layers on layers of patterns and textures. play with mixing several different patterns in one space. avoid things like chevron, polka-dots, or any pattern that feels too perfect. 

Weathered materials- pieces that show their age and history. look for worn leathers, unfinished woods, or anything with a vintage look and feel. 

Mid-century influence- few mid-century modern design elements. organic shapes, furniture formed to hug the body, and warm earthy colors. e.g tripod lamp, a curvaceous womb chair, or a carved wood coffee table will help give your rustic space a fresh and retro edge.

Keep it cozy-  it’s about comfy and homey feeling. add plush textures, piles of pillows, and layering in chunky knit blankets.

*Also big windows are another extremely important feature of the rustic modern home. In fact, this is a feature that both satisfies rustic interiors and modern sensibilities, making it a decisive design component to this style of home. A modern home is always open and full of light, making windows a trademark element. Similarly, rustics want their space to feel as close to the outdoors as possible, therefore, an easy sight line to the outdoors is a rustic’s top priority. 

https://blog.modsy.com/2017/11/design-recipe-5-key-elements-to-acing-modern-rustic-style/

[writersrealmbts]

Tabby Tail

Description: Yoongi hears something on his way home from work and it changes his life for good.

Warnings: Flufffy!!!

Posted: 11/11/2018

Tags: safe with me universe, yoongi, hybrid!yoongi

Fluff: 4,107 words

A/N: I was working a different Yoongi fic and this happened and it was way too cute. Third person because it’s not so much a romance. Hope you guys like this fluffy-ness.

Yoongi huffed out a sigh, glaring at the pavement as he walked back to his apartment with the bed that was just a little too hard and rooms devoid of the homey touches and smells that he had grown accustomed to after getting adopted by Micheal—before the laws passed that freed all hybrids. In all honesty, he probably spent more time at Micheal’s sister’s house since Taehyung was always going over and Hobi was there, but in both homes there was this warmth that he didn’t get from his apartment in a town seven hours away from home. He liked his job, he really did. He was working at record label as a producer after being an intern for his last semester of undergrad and they hired him on full-time after that. But he also missed the home-cooked meals and cuddles that came with being at either house he finished growing up in. He froze, unsure why his ears were twitching until he made out a sound he was familiar with after Jin’s triplets had been born. He looked around hoping it was just a parent trying to get their fussy baby to sleep by walking around the block. But the sound was coming from an alley. He followed the sound, his tail lashing in horror as he looked in a dumpster at the infant. He quickly climbed up to pull it out. “Shh, shh, it’s okay. You’re okay,” He whispered, fear spiking through him. How long had it been there? Why would it parents dump her? What was he supposed to do? Should he take it to the police station? Should he take it home and feed it and bathe it and then take it to the police?

He was already walking with it, heading straight for his apartment, the nasty smell of the garbage on such a small being getting the better of him. He was reminded of Hobi, who had protected from owners so long ago, and of the sweet triplets he got to call his cousins, as well as the little boy he got to call his little brother. He had helped out ever since the triplets were born, and when he went home or Becca and Micheal visited he helped with his brother. He’d be fine. Right? Gratitude at the lack of nosy neighbors rose up in him as he made it to his door without any stops, and then he managed to unlock it all while gently bouncing the baby. The baby was less fussy now, or maybe it was just running out of strength. He hurried to the kitchen, but he wasn’t sure what to give the kid. Was it old enough to eat soft foods? Did it need formula? All questions he asked his phone, deciding that he’d play it safe and give it some of the formula that Becca had accidentally left last time they visited. The kid was still in diapers, and seemed to be younger than his brother. He hoped that Becca had forgotten some diapers as well as, and went to look as he let the water warm up for the bottle. He managed to find a diaper that had been looked over when they were packing up to go and hurried to the bathroom to changer it since he knew that it would be uncomfortable and since he didn’t have any of the stuff one would normally use, he had to make do with what he had to take care of her. And it was definitely a her. He glared at the injury to her tail. It looked like it had be cut off recently about halfway down and it had been shoved under clothing that was far too small for the baby. He bathed her before putting her in a clean diaper and carefully treating her tail and looking over her other injuries. His tail flicked angrily behind him as he carefully wrapped her in the softest blankets he had and carried her back into the kitchen to get her that bottle. She wasn’t fussing as much now, obviously exhausted, but the sound of her weak cries scared him. He tested the temperature again, grateful for Becca being a little scattered and leaving behind a bottle along with everything else, and started trying to feed the little tyke. It took a little while, but once she realized it was food she got quiet and drank. He relaxed a little, sitting down and purring softly as her ears perked slightly. “There you go.” He could smell her natural scent, something a little like sugar cookies and the natural baby scent of warm milk. He got a kitchen towel to burp her, pleased that she didn’t spit up on him. But now he had to decide what to do with her. Was he supposed to contact child services? Or take her to the police? Yoongi looked down at her now-peaceful face, noticing how cutely she curled toward him, one hand curled next to her face and the other tucked snugly into the blanket. Her dark hair had a little bit of curl to it, and her brown, tabby-striped ears were fluffy with kitten fur. Then she started purring softly and his heart melted. He called Jin, knowing the older man would know what to do. “Yoongi? Everything okay?” Jin sounded worried, but also partially distracted. “I’m fine, but I…” He didn’t know how to word this. “Yoongi? What’s wrong?” “I found a baby. In a dumpster. I already fed her and gave her a bath and she had a lot of bruises on her and her tail…someone took off half of her tail. Do I take her to the police? Or is there some number I’m supposed to call? What do I do?” Yoongi asked, trying to keep his voice soft so that she would keep drifting off. “You think she was abused?” “Yeah.” “Take her to the police station so that a report can be filed on the abuse. They’ll help you figure things out from there. You okay otherwise?” “Yeah, I’m fine. Everything okay there?” “Just getting ready for Thanksgiving. You coming this year?” “Definitely,” Yoongi replied. “I’m not missing that pecan pie for anything. Not again.” Jin chuckled. “Let me know how it goes at the station. Call us if you need help with anything.” “Thanks, hyung.” “See you soon, Yoongi.” “Bye.” Yoongi slid his phone back into his jacket pocket and gathered his stuff again to head to the police station. It took forever once there, as he explained the situation four different times and they woke her up examining her injuries much to his annoyance and impatience. He wanted them to stop so he could comfort her, his anxiety starting to act up the longer they ignored her cries so they could document the bruises on her tiny body. Finally they let him wrap her up in the blanket again and he held her close, purring to quiet her down more than feeling like he actually wanted to purr and shooting a glare at the careless and clueless officer. But she quieted in his grasp almost immediately, probably because the blankets were still warm. Child services came with a foster parent to look after the baby, but Yoongi recoiled at the smell of the woman. “I’m not letting her be fostered by an addict,” He growled, ears back. Which resulted in two more hours of him arguing with everyone until finally he hissed and took the folder from the woman. “Then I’ll take her.” Fifteen minutes later he had a list of things he’d need to buy for her, and he was grateful that the store was open twenty-four hours. She slept the whole way through the store and the looks he got were priceless. While they finished scanning the items, he sent Jin a quick text telling him to call when he woke up. His phone rang right after he finished putting away all of the things he had bought. “Jin?” “You said to call. Why are you surprised?” “It’s three in the morning. What are you doing up?” “Kae had a nightmare and I wasn’t about to let him wake his mother since she’s not feeling great.” “What’s wrong with her?” “She’s pregnant. I just haven’t told her yet because she’s been stressed. What’s up?” “I took her in.” It was silent for a couple seconds. “You…took in the baby?” “The foster parent that the agency brought over was a drug addict, and all those f—” “Language and don’t you dare insult humans.” “They were so careless with her. I just…I couldn’t let her go to anyone that wasn’t going to be amazing and I know I’m not that amazing but…” “You’ll be fine. You’re responsible and you have a lot of love to give. I’m just surprised. What about work?” “I…I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.” “Call Taehyung.” “W-what? Why?” “He loves kids. He’s your brother. He’ll gladly help you out. Or wait until you come home for Thanksgiving and ask him to help you then.” Yoongi sighed and nodded. “Okay. Tell Kae I’ll be there for naps soon.” Jin chuckled. “I’ll do that. Yoongi?” “Yeah?” “I’m proud of you. You didn’t have to take her in, but you did and I’m really proud of you.” Yoongi felt warm and fuzzy all over. “You would have done the same. You did do the same. Y/n did the same.” “I’m still proud of you.” Yoongi was smiling, fighting back a purr. “Thanks, hyung. I’ll see you soon.” “Bye.” Yoongi sighed, letting the purr escape him. He hated to admit that the older hybrid being proud of him made him so happy. The age gap between them wasn’t as big as it was with the others and Jin had never ended up being a father figure to him like he had Hoseok. But something about doing what Jin would have done without thinking, when he did see Jin as one of the best men he knew just made him a little proud of himself. Because that meant he was a good man too. She stirred slightly in his arms, but didn’t wake up as she purred in her sleep. “You need a name, don’t you little one?” He whispered, going and settling her in her crib. He had turned the thermostat up so that the room was warm enough he could put the blankets away after he carefully changed her into some warm pajamas. He leaned on the crib, rubbing her belly to sooth her when she stirred a little, and searching for names that he liked. He looked at her sweet little face, her cute tabby ears, and her poor mangled tail. “Eunyeong?” He whispered. She started purring in her sleep again and he grinned. “Eunyeong,” He agreed, then carefully removed himself from her side, triple checking the baby monitor before collapsing on his bed. He had a feeling his ability to sleep anywhere and at anytime was going to come in handy. ———— By the time he reached home he had a newfound respect for every single parent out there that had to drive with a baby in the backseat. Especially the ones without help while driving with a baby in the back seat. He had known it would be difficult and that the trip would be longer because he’d have to stop and take care of her. He hadn’t realized that he would be dead-tired by the time he was standing in front of Jin on the front step of Jin’s house. Jin gave him a sympathetic smile and took the baby carrier. “If you can last ten minutes, it’ll be naptime and Kaemon will be ready for cuddles.” “He doesn’t need any special attention still?” “Nope. He’ll be out the moment he’s in the bed,” Jin replied, guiding Yoongi in before setting the carrier down and pulling out the cute kitten. “She’s beautiful.” Yoongi smiled despite his exhaustion. “I know. And she purrs in her sleep.” Y/n came over, grinning and hugging Yoongi. “Long drive?” He rested his head on her shoulder. He always found comfort in her. She just smelled like home and safety. “You doing okay? It can be a big change, having a baby,” She spoke softly and gently like he was one of her kids and he couldn’t help the tired purr. “I just wanted her to be safe. She’s safe with me, and I know I’ll take care of her better than that foster parent would,” He said, then pulled away, worry rising in him. “But what if I can’t? What if I’ve just made a huge mistake? I mean, what if she would be better off with…someone else…” He trailed off seeing her warm smile. “Yoongi, worrying about what’s best for her, that’s something a parent does. You’re not alone. You have all of us. You’re already a natural at caring for others without thought or question. You got her here, all on your own.” She kissed his forehead. “You’ll be great dad. Remember how protective you were of Hobi and Taehyung? You’re a natural. Now go get the greetings out of the way and take a nap. We’ve got this cutie-pie.” “Eunyeong,” He said. “Her name is Eunyeong. I filed it and everything.” She smiled and took the little kitten in her arms. “Hi, Eunyeong. I’m your aunt,” She murmured in the same voice she used with her kids, slowly walking away. Yoongi wasn’t surprised that he wasn’t even remotely concerned about her or Jin holding his baby, and he made his way into the living room and kitchen to where the other boys and the triplets were. It had become tradition for all six of the adopted boys to stay with Y/n and Jin for the holidays since that had been when a lot of important charities and events took place for hybrid rights and foundations that Micheal and Becca attended to keep advocating for them. Nowadays it was more because it was a tradition than because Micheal and Becca were gone, but they knew that those two enjoyed the quiet time. Hoseok turned and grinned, running over and hugging him so hard he almost fell over. He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “J-Hope!” “Yoongi!” Namjoon was over next, hugging him briefly but still excited to see another one of his pack-members. Yoongi smiled back at Namjoon, then got hit by the Taehyung-truck and couldn’t breathe for a few moment. “Where’s the baby?!” Taehyung asked finally pulling away, his monkey tail was curled around Yoongi’s wrist excitedly. “Y/n has her right now, and she’s sleeping. Look, Tae—” “I’d love to help! I’m still not a good cook, but I can make bottles and I love helping with Timothy and the triplets, I’ll make sure not to make a mess of your apartment—” “Tae!” Yoongi interrupted, afraid the boy would pass out from lack of oxygen. “Thank you.” Taehyung hugged him again. “Of course! You’re my brother! I’m gonna go see my new niece!” He skipped off. Jimin hugged Yoongi, clinging for a moment, then pulling away so that Jungkook could briefly hug Yoongi. Then the triplets came out of the family room. “Yoongi-hyung!” Minsu yelled, racing over. Kaemon and Nari were right behind him. Yoongi hugged all of them tightly, pecking each of their foreheads. He’d learned very quickly that if he wasn’t upfront with his affection for them they would get worried since he tended to be more stone-faced and solemn. Some part of him knew that they were a large part of why he felt ready to care for Eunyeong, and he couldn’t be more grateful to the little monsters. Kae kept hugging him after his siblings stopped and were chattering happily. The little pup pulled away and looked at Yoongi with sleepy eyes and a sleepy smile. Yoongi purred softly. “Naptime?” Kae nodded, dropping his head back on Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi picked him up, grunting slightly at the effort. They weren’t so little anymore. “Aish, are you texting your girlfriend again,” Hoseok was teasing Jimin. Jimin just grinned back. “You’re just jealous because I met someone before you.” Jungkook smiled, listening to the two of them. Yoongi waited as Namjoon led the other two of the triplets away so that he and Kaemonnie could rest in peace up in Yoongi’s regular room. Kae immediately cuddled into his side. “You’re a daddy now?” Yoongi nodded slowly. “Can we still cuddle?” “Of course, kiddo,” Yoongi whispered, purring softly. “It means I’ll want naps even more every time I come here.” Kae wiggled happily and then he was asleep, breathing even and face relaxed. Yoongi sighed. This bed was so much comfier than his. Maybe he’d have to ask if he could take it back with him to replace his mattress. Y/n wouldn’t mind. He was glad Taehyung was so excited to come help Yoongi take care of Eunyeong. He hadn’t figured out what to do about work yet, but having Tae volunteer to come solved that problem. He made more than enough to support the three of them, especially if the last two songs he produced did as well is the ones before that. They would still have to live in moderation so that he could save up for emergencies, but knowing how much Tae liked to hoard his money, he didn’t think it’d be too hard to make sure his younger brother was frugal. He would just have to make grocery lists so that Tae wouldn’t get distracted and get everything but what they needed. He made up his mind to go through and budget for the next month once he woke up and let himself fall asleep cuddling the four-year-old as thoughts of his purring baby downstairs calmed him. ———— Taehyung cooed softly, tickling Euhyeong’s nose with his tail and quickly pulling it out of reach. The capuchin-hybrid loved kids, and his love for kids was translating into him being great with Yoongi’s baby-girl. Yoongi put the last suitcase in the car. “Ready Tae?” Tae quickly ran to hug Micheal and Becca goodbye while Yoongi made sure Tae had actually finished buckling Eunyeong in. The moment she saw Yoongi she purred loudly, making grabby-hands at him. He made a couple faces at her, loving the little giggle that had appeared just over the weekend as she grew healthier, happier, and stronger. It was amazing what one week did for his baby girl. What surprised him most was how naturally she attached herself to him. She was happiest with him, her sugar cookie scent growing stronger in his arms, or when she saw him. Y/n had kissed his cheek. “She knows who her daddy is. She knows the scent of the person who took care of her. She’s imprinted. Like a duckling.” Even now, her reaction to seeing him had him purring. Taehyung took the keys. “You sit back with her. I’ll have plenty of time to spend with her while you’re at work.” Yoongi smiled appreciatively, and buckled into the seat beside her, bouncing her new stuffed puppy in front of her and letting her grab it and feel it. The different textures catching her interest. He loved the way her little mouth curled into a smile, her cute almond eyes, how soft her skin was, but most of all he loved her temperment. She was the easiest baby in the world. She had to be. She didn’t cry right away when her diaper was messy, she just fussed a bit. When she was tired, she fell asleep. When she was hungry she would look at him with teary eyes and open her mouth multiple times letting out tiny mewls. Most of the time, she was easy to calm down and put back to sleep and he knew he was one lucky black cat because he remembered the struggles that Y/n and Jin went through with three, and hearing about the struggles with Timothy. For her to quiet down so easily was a miracle he hoped he would never take for granted. She was easy to please for most of the long car ride, sometimes just satisfied with him stroking her head or playing with her foot. She slept on and off, but was awake for a surprising amount of the ride. They didn’t have to stop nearly as much as Yoongi did when he came down alone with her. Taehyung sat in the back with her for the last two hours, napping more than anything after five long hours of driving. But the last half hour was her crying as Taehyung ruled out almost every option as to what would be upsetting her. “Oh, I think she wants to be held.” “We’re almost there. Let’s just let her cry it out. That’s something we have to do. Right?” “Yeah…” “I know you don’t like it, but for now it’s what needs to happen. We’re way to close for me to even think of stopping.” “Okay, hyung. I’ll do what I can for her without pulling her out.” Yoongi nodded, watching in the mirror as his younger brother pet her hair and rubbed her tummy. “Shh, Eunyeong-ah, we’re almost home. Then you can cuddle all you like. And tomorrow you and I are going to have a great day of changing diapers and cleaning, yah?” Yoongi did his best not to chuckle at how genuinely excited Taehyung sounded to spend the day with Eunyeong despite knowing it was going to be smelly and messy. As soon as he put the car in park, Taehyung pulled her out of her carseat and cuddled her close, which quieted her cries a little. They unloaded the car and Taehyung checked off every reason she might be upset again before just shrugging at Yoongi. “Guess she’s just upset.” “Here, I’ll take her while you settle in. Get some food cooking for us.” “Thanks, hyung,” Tae replied, handing her over and then heading toward his room. He stopped when Eunyeong fell silent after a couple of quieter wails. Yoongi and Taehyung looked at each other with big eyes. Taehyung took a deep breath. “Oh, she’s gonna cry a lot, isn’t she?” “It might just be because she was upset for so long,” Yoongi tried to reason. Taehyung nodded slowly. “She’ll get used to me eventually. You can take long lunches, right?” “Yeah.” “Alright, be ready to if I call saying I’m going crazy.” “Hey, Tae?” “I know, you’re grateful. We’re family. Besides, I’ve been thinking about taking care of kids anyway and this just works out, Yoongi. It works. I’ll unpack now. I’m glad you have a first level apartment.” “Trampoline?” Tae nodded, then disappeared into his room. Yoongi nodded, remembering the discussion in the store that he had had with Y/n. They had been Christmas shopping. She had pointed it out and he had highly approved of her choice because Tae had been driving him up a wall with his energy. Taehyung adored it and used it every day, which helped out immensely. “Hey, Tae?” Yoongi called out, noticing the note he had made himself on the fridge. “Yeah?” “Are you still afraid of the doctors office?” The lack of answer was answer enough. “Okay, I’ll make sure I have off so I can take Eunyeong.” “Thank you, hyung.” Yoongi got the ramen cooking with one hand, bouncing Euny lightly while he pulled out the turkey from Thursday and set it on the counter. He also pulled out some of the jars of baby food Y/n had sent with him because she had pointed out that Eunyeong was old enough to start eating as well as having a bottle. She watched everything with big eyes, her tail flicking lightly with curiosity. He kissed her head and she erupted into purrs, curling into him and babbling a little. He purred and wrapped his other arm around her. He’d had a couple relationships fail in the past three years, and he knew that a relationship would be even more difficult with a baby. He would get judged by strangers. She was worth it all. His heart felt so fell to have this little life love him when he really hadn’t done anything. He had a baby girl. His Eunyeong. He smiled down at her. “We’re going to be just fine, aren’t we, Euny?”

Masterlist.   Sanctuary Series Masterpost.  Next Part.

[swiftpng]

❥ — taylor swift’s fall netflix list // gettin’ deep & personal task.

Taylor’s a sucker for binge-watching a television show and ignoring the fact that she should be replying to emails about work, so what’s a better way to procrastinate than answering a bunch of fall related questions while watching a baking show? (click on the picture for hq!)

what’s your favorite part of fall? Everything. I know, I know… I might’ve said summer was my favorite season, but honestly? I love this time of the year so much. The leaves here are beginning to change colors. Soon they’ll fall to the ground in an array of golden-tones, stripping the trees bare in the process. We’ll all soon follow, wiping ourselves clean of the year’s hard times in anticipation of the better that’s sure to come. Pumpkin flavors can now be requested in coffee shops all over, and in just a couple weeks time, children will line the streets in costumes. There’s something in the breeze that heals. I can’t explain it, but I can feel it. Goosebumps litter my skin and at times I have to question whether I’m cold or whether my body is coming alive for the first time in ten months. Fall has arrived and so has my spirit. 

what about your least favorite? Hm, hard call. Maybe the colder weather? I don’t mind it, but I don’t really enjoy the feeling of my limbs feeling numb from the coldness.

what’s a song that always makes you think of Halloween? Thriller by Michael Jackson! If you don’t do the dance when you hear this song, we can’t be friends.

describe your quintessential fall outfit? Fall fashion is some of my favorite and, in my opinion, often the most creative! Usually, I’m always wearing fall colors with jeans, boots, and a sweater. Scarves, hats, and gloves can be found in my wardrobe during this time of year, too.

have you ever played with a ouija board? No, I wouldn’t do that. I’ve seen one too many horror films to know that it never ends well when you mess with those things.

do you feel that fall makes you happy or sad? Happy, most of the time! Although, it does make me feel slightly nostalgic, so that can always bring up unwanted feelings to the surface.

what’s your favorite Halloween-related movie? I always go for more light-hearted movies rather than all out scary movies, so I would have to say Hocus Pocus. But, I like Practical Magic, too.

now that the weather’s getting colder, what’s a go-to comfort meal for fall? Mac and cheese is my comfort food. It’s homey, warm, and so delicious. 

do you believe in ghosts & spirits? A little bit. I’m the kind of person to hear a mysterious noise and think “ghosts!” because that’s just who I am. I believe there are things we can’t see that exist, but I don’t really believe in the traditional ideas of what “ghosts” are. Maybe I’ll Buzzfeed Unsolved it one of these days and see if they’re truly real for myself.

favorite fall-related scent? Freshly made pumpkin pie from the oven is such a good smell, but I also love the smell of nature after it rains.

are you a generally superstitious person? I’m not overall superstitious, but I believe that there are things we can’t see or fathom. I believe there’s things we can’t explain, yet or ever. I believe that the number thirteen is my lucky number, and whenever it pops up randomly, I always believe it’s good luck for me.

do you rake up the leaves in your yard, or leave them fall where they may? I just leave them on the ground until I know it’s supposed to snow, and then I rake them up for them to burn. Fallen leaves make for a good bonfire.

if you were home alone and heard footsteps in your house, what would you do? I would probably check my security camera footage, and if I felt really spooked out, I’d call a friend to come over and stay the night!

hot apple cider or pumpkin spice coffee? Oooh, don’t do this to me. I love both, but a mug of hot apple cider is amazing when you’re at the window and reading a book.

pick a team of three people to go with you to a haunted house if you wanted to survive? Let me see… I think I’d choose Bill Skarsgård because he’s taller than me and I trust that he could protect the rest of the team; James McAvoy because he’s hilarious and I’m sure he could calm my nerves and lighten the mood; and Delta Goodrem since she’s my soul sister and I would need her for moral support. Bill, James, and Delta – those three would be my team if I had to go into a haunted house to survive.

do you use the pumpkin seeds once you’ve scooped ‘em from the jack-o-lantern? I usually save them! I roast them in the oven and eat them as a snack.

favorite Halloween costume that you’ve ever worn? Getting the chance to wear Ryan’s Deadpool costume was pretty cool. Didn’t think it would fit at first, but I’m glad it did!

what’s your favorite fall time activity? Going out at night and walking against the brisk air, warm coffee in my hand, feeling free and abandoned with my loved ones; sitting outside in the afternoons with a cozy sweater and writing/drawing; watching the darkening of the days, giving way to even brighter sunsets and sunrises.

graveyards at night: yay or nay? Uh, no. I don’t even like going to them in the daytime, so going to one during the night would not be for me.

do you enjoy baking during the fall season? Of course! Imagine if I didn’t bake almost everyday during the fall season? If you can name it, I can bake it. Cookies, pies, cakes, bread – those will fill my kitchen at all times.

are you more into Halloween parties or trick-or-treating? Since I’m older, I would say Halloween parties. Though, now that I’m living in Bayview, I’m hoping to get a chance to pass out candy to kids. Seeing little ones dressed up in their costumes is so cute.

what role do you play in a horror movie: the final girl, first to die, comic relief, the brain, or the murderer? Honestly? Depends on my mood. Kidding. Well, maybe. I feel like most people would assume that I would be the first to die in a horror movie and they might be right, but I feel like I could be the brain to come up with a plan to save us all. I’d be the comic relief if I’m nervous or feeling stressed during it all, the final girl if my plan goes like it should, and the murderer if I saw someone I disliked.

have you ever changed your appearance with the season? like dyeing your hair or doing different makeup? A lot of people dye their hair darker as the seasons change, but I don’t think I can pull off brown hair, so I just stick to blonde. I usually change my makeup to more darker tones.

after a scary movie… lights on or off? On, always. And I have to watch something more light-hearted afterwards otherwise I can’t go to sleep.

what’s your favorite candy that you look forward to getting around Halloween? Definitely Reese’s Pieces or M&M’s. You’ll never see me with candy corn, though. Whoever likes those are wrong. Very, very wrong. They have no taste, they’re boring, and they’re just not a good Halloween candy. Or even candy in general. Honestly, just don’t even talk to me if you like candy corn. Please. Also, if you have any in your presence, you should do yourself a favor and throw them away.

you’re a witch or warlock… what’s your familiar animal? Would it be too predictable to say a cat? It would be cool if they could talk like Salem, too.

it’s an apple, and it’s coated with what: chocolate, candy or caramel? A chocolate M&M covered apple would be my pick. I never eat it from the stick, so I usually cut it with an apple slicer and then have my way with it.

do you believe in any urban legends like moth man or chupacabras? Can’t say I do, only because I’m not really familiar with either of those. I will say that I believe in Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster.

are you more into the fall aesthetic, or just in it for Halloween? Both? I love fall because of the crispness of the air against the gentle warmth of sunlight, the reemergence of cozy dark clothing and boots, a fresh brew of coffee as the sun rises and the chill starts to nip at your nose and cheeks, the faint scent of cinnamon, shorter days in exchange for softer evenings and brighter sunrises, greenery turning over to bold reds, oranges, and yellows, a tangible feeling that you can do anything… I could go on forever, I just really, really love autumn, my soul feels so at home when it’s this time of year. But, I do love Halloween and I refuse to believe it begins within the plane of manmade time, and is not an atmospheric state that graces us mere mortals every year without fail, bringing with it an odd chilly peace and natural pleasantries and a sort of magic, all of which is willed by the Gods of Spook. Yes, I know, I’m weird.  

supernatural time: do you wanna be a vampire, werewolf, or zombie? I’ve been a zombie once, and let me tell you, sitting for six hours in a makeup chair is not fun. But in all seriousness, if I had to choose based off of what I’ve seen in TV shows and such, I think I’d go with being a werewolf. I mean, having to turn on a full moon and have every bone in my body break doesn’t sound like too much fun, but it does sound better than having to live off of blood and never actually dying (unless you get stabbed in the heart with a wooden stake). With how much the world is changing, I don’t think I would to live long enough to see how it all ends.

[campingwiththecharmings]

The warmth and homey-ness this fic makes me feel is just

Also Poe acting all nervous *keyboard smash*

I love this fic so much thank you 💖

The Thanksgiving Episode

Chapter 11 of You Are In Love

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: modern!Poe Dameron x reader

Warnings: none :)

Word Count: 2.3k

Author’s Note: everything will be fine… at some point. Also, I hope everyone who celebrates has a great thanksgiving, send my love to y’all

Unfortunately, your plans to stay locked up in your apartment forever are thwarted when you realize you have work, and that Rose is closing with you.

Most of your morning is spent trying to reassure yourself that Rose won’t hate you and there’s nothing to worry about. Still, your hands shake as you open up the back door and tie on your apron, preparing yourself for the worst.

“Hey!” Rose says when she enters the kitchen, a bright smile on her face. It takes you aback, but you recover quickly and grin at her in return.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!” You exclaim as she hurries over to squeeze you into a quick hug. It probably hadn’t been more than a week, but you’d become so used to seeing her on a daily basis that even going a few days feels like you’ve been separated for eternity.

“I know!” The two of you make your way to the front of the shop, where the line is dwindling down as it gets closer to closing time. Even being with Rose for just a few seconds works wonders to calm you down; she could never truly hate you, especially not over something as silly as accidentally kissing a mutual friend.

It’s nice, being able to just chat and catch up with Rose as you work, the number of customers dwindling the closer you got to closing time, until you flipped the sign to ‘closed’ and it was only you and Rose inside the shop.

“Thanksgiving plans?” Rose asks, wiping down the counter as you sweep.

“No,” you start, continuing with your tasks, “I normally just hang out at home, start watching holiday movies.”

“Well, we - me and Rey and Finn and Poe - do this ‘friendsgiving’ type thing where we all just bring food and hang out, if you want to come over?”

Despite the way you feel your heart stutter and stop at the mention of his name, you can’t deny how nice that sounds, to spend a holiday with the little family you’d found. It sounded absolutely perfect, your mistake pushed to the back of your mind to make room for your excitement.

“That sounds really nice.”

“Perfect!” She grins, causing a smile to grow on your own face, “We’ll start planning soon, I’ll let you know when we have more details about what to bring and when to come and all that.”

Ever since you started college, the holidays have been a rough time for you, especially such a family-centric holiday like Thanksgiving. For years, you’d been spending it alone, trying to pretend like it’s just a normal day and that you don’t feel a twinge of jealousy when you’d see the pictures your friends post of happy families gathered around a dinner table on your feed.

But now, it seems like this year will be different. Instead of the typical dread you felt as November progressed, you felt a strange type of anticipation, of excitement, bubbling up in your gut. It reminds you of the way you used to feel about the holidays, back when everything felt magical and you waited desperately for the first snowfall.

You spend the day before Thanksgiving in a baking frenzy, movies and music playing as you prep and mix and bake and cool, and repeat over and over again. You’d volunteered to bring dessert, and you’d planned on just making a pumpkin pie but then you weren’t sure if everyone liked pumpkin pie so you decided to make a pecan pie too and then you decided you might as well make a batch of chocolate chip cookies.

And while that normally would have stressed you out, you find yourself more calm than you’ve been in a while. It’s wonderful, to zone out and focus on measuring the right amount of each ingredient, of switching your brain from baking mode to cleaning mode when one treat is in the oven, and then back to baking mode to start on your next dessert.

This is the way holidays should feel, you think: a whirlwind in the best way possible. You’re fueled by adrenaline, not anxiety. You knew that if you only show up with a pumpkin pie, no one would be upset, removing the pressure you’d feel otherwise to make each dessert absolutely perfect, allowing you to simply enjoy yourself.

Once your baking is complete, you take a long, hot shower before dressing in your coziest pajamas, resisting the urge to spend the rest of your night watching holiday movies. Instead, you watch a few reruns of your favorite feel-good TV show and head to bed, feeling exhausted and excited for the day to come.

You aren’t supposed to be meeting at Rey and Rose’s apartment until lunchtime, so you spend the morning slowly, enjoying a nice breakfast and taking the time to really take care of yourself. You package up the desserts and get yourself ready, spending a little extra time to mentally prepare yourself for seeing Poe.

In the weeks since the incident, you haven’t spoken to him at all, your dead flowers remain on your nightstand. You’d been too scared to talk to him and too scared to get rid of the flowers, and now you’re regretting it, you can practically feel the awkwardness already.

But you try your hardest to push those thoughts out of your mind, taking a few deep breaths and focusing back in on getting ready and just enjoying the holiday with your favorite people. Because even after what happened, what you did, Poe’s still one of your favorite people ever.

Surprising to no one, you’re the first to arrive at Rey and Rose’s, greeted by a very flustered Rose who’s convinced her mashed potatoes still aren’t quite right. You greet her with a shoulder bump, your arms laden down with desserts. You remind her that everything she makes is perfect, and shout out your greeting to Rey, who’s still getting the dining room set up.

Sometimes it amazes you, how the two of them work so well together. In so many aspects of life, they’re complete opposites. Rose is a planner, through and through, and Rey is a last minute, ‘go with the flow’ type of person. Rey thinks if you’re not early, you’re late, and Rose always shows up just on time.

Though, their opposition is what works best about their relationship: Rey sleeps on the left side and Rose on the right. Rose cooks, Rey does the dishes. They’re so in love with each other, and you know that those little differences are what make them so wonderful. All you hope for is that one day, you can have a relationship that works as smoothly as theirs.

Soon, Finn is entering the kitchen with his contributions to the meal, which is just a variety of alcohol that you assume was taken from The Resistance. As soon as his arms are free, he’s wrapping everyone into a hug, taking his time to give everyone a proper squeeze. Hugs used to make you uncomfortable, but now you know there’s nothing better than a hug from Finn, he always knows the perfect amount of pressure to apply, how long to keep you wrapped in his arms.

The four of you are crowded in the kitchen, just laughing and catching up as music plays softly from someone’s phone when Poe arrives, carrying what looks like twenty different containers. A friendly, loving argument breaks out, with Poe repeating “You just said ‘side dishes’! That's a vague term!” over and over while you and Finn look on and struggle to contain your laughter.

You’d almost forgotten about your mishap until Poe’s greeting everyone individually, and there’s a part of you that assumes he’ll just skip over you, give you a wave and ignore you the rest of the night. Instead, he comes over and tugs you into a one armed hug, planting a kiss on the top of your head. All of the tension leaves your body.

Soon, all of the food has been arranged at the table, and you and your friends are sitting down to eat. You’re overwhelmed with your feelings, overtaken by how much love you have for your friends. You’d spent so many holidays alone, being able to spend one with the people you loved most in the whole world seemed like a miracle.

Hours are spent at that dining room table, everyone eating and laughing and having a good time, making you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Eventually, the meal is replaced by your desserts, and your friends pile on the compliments, making you feel beyond cared for.

After you all help with the dishes, or at least try and help with the dishes before Rey shoos you all away, you arrange yourselves in the living room, spreading out across chairs and couches and the floor. The whole day, and the days leading up to it, have felt hectic and frantic, making this lounging even better.

Even though spending time with your friends like this is a regular occurrence, there’s just something extra special about it being a holiday, something that makes it extra wonderful to be with your favorite people.

Because of your late lunch, by the time dinner rolls around no one wants to move, too full to even think about getting up from your seats. Poe, though, heaves himself up off the couch with a groan.

“I’ve gotta go, my dad’ll be here in an hour or so.”

Everyone protests, shouting at him to stay even as he waves you all off and gathers up the containers he brought before pulling on his jacket and shoes. At this point, everyone mustered the energy to get up and say goodbye. You, though, try and linger, wanting to steal a few moments away for you to just talk with him, to make sure that everything is really ok, that your mishap has been forgiven and hopefully forgotten.

You end up cornering him in the entryway, after the rest of your friends returned to the living room.

“We’re good, right?” You ask, whispering so only Poe can hear.

“Of course we are,” he squeezes your hand for extra emphasis, “my dad’s gonna be in town for a few days, but we should meet up, catch up and hang out and everything.”

He sounds nervous, uncharacteristically so, but you just brush it off, ignore it as stress for the impending arrival of his dad, who you know he loves more than anything and most likely is trying to make his visit as perfect as possible.

“That sounds great,” you tell him, even though it actually sounds awful and you’re already feeling nervous, “have a good night.”

“You too,” he responds with one last squeeze to your hands, and then he’s out the door.

You take a minute to collect yourself, to stop yourself from thinking the worst about Poe’s odd behavior, and then head back out to the living room.

“What was that about?” Rose asks as you emerge from the front hall and seat yourself on the couch next to Finn.

“Oh, I just left something in Poe’s car last time I was with him, I wanted to see if he still had it.” Rey and Rose nod in understanding at your lie, but Finn isn’t so easy to convince.

Luckily, though, he doesn’t say anything beyond an “mhm” as you sit next to him on the couch.

For the next few hours, you stay in the comfortable atmosphere of Rose’s living room, filled with warmth from the drink in your hand and your friends around you. Eventually, you all call it a night, wonderfully full and feeling wonderfully happy, with exhaustion starting to creep in.

Finn gives you a ride home, and you laugh so hard you’re spending most of your time in the car crying and struggling to breathe. You’re not sure how Finn’s able to hold it together enough to drive. When he parks outside of your apartment, you have to spend a moment bracing yourself for the cold, after which you lean over to plant a friendly kiss on Finn’s cheek in lieu of a goodbye.

“At least you didn’t kiss me smack on the mouth,” he tells you as you pull away, and you can tell he’s fighting a smile as your mouth drops open in shock.

“That was uncalled for!” You exclaim, struggling to get words out through your laughter.

He laughs even harder, cackling as you smack him on the shoulder before shouting a goodbye as you race out of the car, running from the cold until you reach your building. You send Finn one more wave before you head up to your apartment.

It’s perfectly warm when you enter your front door, the lamp you left on casting the space in a golden light. You kick off your shoes and change into comfy clothes, settling in on the couch with a fluffy blanket. You feel happy in a way you haven’t before on a holiday, and you realize this is how things should be.

You shouldn’t have to spend holidays alone. You shouldn’t have to spend holidays agonizing over whether you should reach out to try and get together. You shouldn’t have to spend holidays wondering if your best friend hates you after a silly mistake.

Tonight, you feel none of those things.

You warm up the leftovers Rose pushed on you as you left, and turn on your favorite holiday movie, ready to get in the spirit now that Thanksgiving is over, feeling a weightlessness you haven’t felt on this day in ages.

A few hours later, when the world starts freezing over and snowflakes flutter past your windows, your phone buzzes with a message.

Plans tomorrow? We should talk soon

Tags: @disabledameron @andromeda-dear @dailyreverie @stevenngrant @aellynera @creatively-analytical @tiquinntheghost @luckynachos @fallinallinmendes @sabxism @ghostsongwriter-22 @poopirate

[freedom-shamrock]

BAMF Mari #4 - Chat Ice

Also on AO3 #1 Princess Chat   #2 Snack Chat   #3 Scalded Chat   #4 Chat Ice #5 Chat’s Paw    #6 Chat’s Cradle    #7 Chataplexy    #8 Chatatonic #9 Chatalyst   #10 Chat Nap   #11 Chatcall   #12 Chatachresis   #13 Cat’s Pajamas    

Adrien spent most of the morning in a heightened state of awareness (or possibly a-Mari-ness), more focused on the amazing girl behind him than his teachers.  His elevated sense of smell picked up her warm homey scent, fluctuating in strength as the room's air circulated.  His sensitive ears caught each breath, each whispered aside to Alya, and the alternating sounds of her taking notes on her tablet and sketching designs.  Whatever she'd been inspired to do during physics was sure to be brilliant.

Madam Mendeleiv called on him, probably noticing his lack of notes and glazed appearance.  Fortunately, he was good at physics on the fly.  Between in-class Chat naps and modeling mayhem, he was able to look at the notations on the board and pair it appropriately with her question for an accurate answer.

"How do you do that, dude?" Nino asked quietly, as the class shifted to work on the day's experiment.  "You've been completely out of it today, but you get asked a physics question and blamo, you're on your game."

Adrien smiled and shrugged, appreciating the compliment.  "Force of habit.  I'm tired in class often enough that I can pick up the cues I need."

Nino frowned.  "And what's up with you today? I'm not getting a tired vibe off you.  It's like you're scattered, which is a totally not-Adrien way to be."

Adrien let out a huff of air, half a laugh, really.  "That's a surprisingly accurate assessment."

"You okay?"  Nino's hand settled lightly on Adrien's shoulder, giving him a little squeeze.

Adrien nodded.  "I kind of had a revelation yesterday, and I just need to sort some things out."

"Good stuff, or bad?"

"Good, I think."  He managed to focus during the work portion of the class.  He was finally feeling more like himself again, for the first time since yesterday afternoon.

As they were cleaning up, Marinette appeared out of nowhere (or it felt like it, anyway), and leaned on the boys' table.  He may have startled with a squeak.

"Sorry Adrien," she said, smiling brightly.

He waved off her apology.

"My boy's a bit off his game today," Nino explained.  "You'll have to forgive him."

She looked surprised.  "So the brain reboot didn't work for you?"

Nope.  The relative calm he'd achieved was gone.  See ya.  Goodbye.  He shook his head and shrugged, hoping to avoid any spontaneous proposals and foaming at the mouth.

"Well I have a surefire fix," Marinette said, holding up one finger, her eyes bright and virtually sparkling.

"Caffries and pasteine?" Adrien asked.  "Caffeine.  Pastries."

Giggling, she shook her head.  "Who's up for my uncle's famous soup?  Mama and I made a big pot last night, so there's plenty to share."

"Sifu Wang's Marinette Soup?" Adrien asked, warmth filling him at the invitation, though she was so friendly it was hardly unusual.  It just felt more significant for some reason.  "I'm yes!  Uh, in."  He glanced over at his friend.

"Oh, no can do, dudes," Nino said, holding out his hands.  "I'd love to join you, but me and Al are going to go pick up some special order vinyl."

"Is that the import stuff you've been waiting for?" Marinette asked.  She was so nice, supporting everyone's interests, and keeping in the loop on them.

"Yeah," Nino nodded enthusiastically.  "The Minnesota musician set has finally arrived, and I'm looking forward to introducing you all to Atmosphere and Dessa."

"Carry on, then," Marinette said airily.  "More soup for me and Adrien."

"Great!" Adrien blurted, feeling the heat return to his face as he realized how doomed he was.  There was no way to politely excuse himself from a solo lunch experience (dare he dream, lunch date?) with this girl who had fried all his synapses.  He moved to pack up his things, knocking his text book off the table in a fit of extreme clumsiness.

" Dude ," Nino said slowly, marveling at the Messdrien he'd become.  "Do you need to go home or something?"  His eyes moved from Marinette, cheerily scooping up the dropped book and presenting it as though it were something marvelous she'd gone on a quest for.

"Ta-da!"  She tucked it into Adrien's bag.  "Don't worry, Neen," she assured him.  "I'll take good care of your best bro."

Of course that was the moment a soft wheezing whine filled the air, and Adrien realized it had come from him.  And now all three of his close friends were staring at him.  "Uh… soup?"  He patted his stomach.  "The hungry… hunger… from you… your words."  Oh god this was terrible.  "Is much."

Marinette nodded decisively.  "Much hunger," she agreed, looping his arm with hers.  "To soup!" she declared, her hand outstretched as she tugged him along with her.

They had made it all the way to the sidewalk before she spoke again.  "I don't want you to feel weird or anything," she said quietly as she brought him to the crosswalk.  "You seem to be having trouble getting your thoughts and your mouth to work together."

Oh tiny god of destruction, just cataclysm him now.

"Oh no, don't feel bad," she said quickly as the red came up in his cheeks again.  "I wanted to let you know that I understand.  I mean…"  She shrugged.  "It happens to me often enough.  I just wanted you to know you don't have to feel awkward about it."

"Awkwardrien," he said, managing to giggle at the portmanteau he'd made.

Her laughter joined his.  "Oh dear.  And I made it weird now.  Does that make me Awkwardnette?"

"Doesn't flow."  He shook his head.  Two word responses were good.  If he could stick to those he'd be fine.

They were nearly to the bakery when he realized her hand had snuggled in against his palm, her fingers lightly brushing his.  The sidewalk was surprisingly hard when he wasn't in his cat suit, and he had no memory of getting there.

"OhmygodAdrien," Marinette said, the words high pitched and squashed together as she nearly came down on top of him.  She shook his shoulder.  "Are you okay?"

He pushed himself to his knees, but that stung, so he moved to sit.  His hands were okay, but he'd torn a hole in his right knee, and there was blood welling up to seep into the fabric.  "Well that's shitty luck," he said, surprised that he'd managed to get four words out in a row.

Marinette winced in sympathy.  "Oooh.  That looks like it smarts."  She resettled her messenger bag, pushing it further back.  Then, for the second time in two days, his tiny sweet friend squatted down and scooped him up like he weighed nothing.

"Eep!"  His arms curled in again, and it was all he could do to keep his hands from doing the same.  He stared, wide-eyed, into her face (now much closer than it had been when they were walking).

"Don't worry," she said calmly.  "I've got you.  We'll get you patched up, then you can have some soup."

He was sure she would set him down the moment they got inside, but she didn't.  He heard her greet her parents, and peripherally heard them respond, but his awareness had mostly shrunk to the tiny bubble of personal space around him and the girl effortlessly carrying him up the stairs.

For a brief moment, he was pressed between her and the door, and he thought he might pass out, but then the door swung in and she was moving into the apartment.  She settled him gently on the couch.  

She bent to look at his knee for a moment. "Take off your pants."  She straightened up.  

He made that noise again.  That wheezing whining sound.  He clapped a hand over his mouth as he was certain his entire body blushed with embarrassment.

"Oops."  She giggled.  "Sorry for demanding you strip.  Here, you can drape this over your lap, if it makes you more comfortable."  She offered him a soft loose knit afghan.  "But I can't treat your knee or repair your jeans if you're wearing them."

"I'mnotbodyshy!" he blurted.  Hurray.  Four words mashed into one unintelligible mess.  To be fair, he really wasn't.  He'd been changing in front of other people for years.  There were probably hundreds of people who'd seen him in his underwear.  Though suddenly, the idea of Marinette seeing him in his designer bikini briefs made him a smidge nervous.  Or more than a smidge.  "Am not ," he insisted, surprised at how petulant he sounded.

"Okay, then," she said slowly.  "Don't cover up, if you don't want to."  She patted his cheek.  "I'm going upstairs to grab the first aid kit and my repair box.  I'll be back in a couple of minutes."

He huffed and pouted a little once her back was turned, but the moment she was out of the room, he wriggled out of his jeans.  The blanket was soft, and he couldn't help burrowing his fingers into it and squeezing.  For some reason, it calmed him.  Still squishing up the blanket, he brought it up to his face and closed his eyes.  It smelled like her house.  Like her.  Warm.  Safe.  When he heard the soft patting of her feet, he dropped his hands and the blanket into his lap.

"Does that help?" she asked, sitting at his feet and tugging the zipper of a little blue pouch.

"Huh?"  He looked down at his hands when she gestured to them, wrapped in the blanket.  "Oh.  Sorry."  He forced his hands to release the blanket, smoothing  it out.

"It's okay," she insisted.  "It seemed to be soothing you.  Like a fidget."  She shrugged.  "It reminded me of the way cats knead things."  She looked contemplative for a moment.  "Though I think they do it when they're happy, and this is not a happy knee."

Cats knead.  Of course.  He was going to have words with Plagg.  He watched as she bent over his knee to clean it.  She was so much gentler than anyone who'd ever given him first aid, including himself.  A daub of ointment and she was easing a gauze pad against the scrapes.

"We should be careful you don't scar," she said as she ripped off a strip of paper tape.  "Don't want to piss off your father."  She sat back to admire her work.

"Thanks you," he murmured.

"Not quite done," she said.  "There's one thing all boo boos need."  She leaned in quickly and planted a soft kiss on the top of his knee.  "There.  All better."

"Meep!"  He squeaked and pulled the blanket over his head.

Cat Ice - thin sheet of ice concealed under water (deceptively slippery) 

My cold is retreating! Forth Eorlingas! Secure the keep! Though I sound a bit like Flutterguy at the moment.

Tagging @frostymoon11 and @starfirette as promised for the continuation.

[triplet-vo]

they say love can turn a heart of stone

DigiOTPWeek Day 9: Zombies AU

Word Count: 1035

Pairing: Takaishi Takeru/Yagami Hikari, secondary Takenouchi Sora/Ishida Yamato

She positioned him to hide in the shadows around the corner before coming to the front door. Rapping her knuckles against it, Hikari twisted her fingers in her hands as she waited. She froze when a patrol car went by and didn’t relax even when the car disappeared down the street. It made her jump when she finally heard the scraping of the door chain. “I’m so sorry, I know it’s late – ” she whispered when the door swung open.

“Oh my god.” Sora threw her arms around Hikari. Her arms were shaking. “Hikari – we all thought –” She pulled back to take a good look at the younger girl before hugging her hard again. “I can’t believe it. My god.”

Hikari squeezed her arms tight around Sora. Before she knew it, she was crying. “I know. I’m so sorry. I never meant to make you worry.”

“Don’t you dare apologize.” Sora looked like she was on the verge of tears herself. She bit her lip and scanned Hikari from head to toe before visibly pulling herself together. “Come in. I’ll wake Yamato up and he can make us all something to eat. He’ll be so happy to see that you’re alive after all this time.”

“Wait.” Hikari resisted when Sora tried to guide her inside. “Sora, that’s why I came here first instead of going home.”

“Huh?”

She took a deep breath. “I rescued a friend when I was trapped in No Man’s Land. But you have to promise – promise me that you’re not going to freak out when you see who he is. And trust me, okay?”

Sora looked blankly back at Hikari. Slowly, she agreed, “I trust you. Who’s your friend?”

“Okay.” Hikari beckoned at the shadows. “It’s safe,” she called quietly.

He approached slowly, grey-pale limbs jerking with the effort to not drag his feet. Despite the cloudy film that hazed his blue eyes, he still managed to gaze at Hikari anxiously. When he came close enough, she reached for his hand so that they could face Sora together.

The older girl’s trembling hand was covering her mouth. Her eyes, which had already been filled with tears, now ran over. “Takeru,” Sora whispered hoarsely.

It should have been a charming tableau: Hikari and Takeru sitting on one side of the table together, their hands still intertwined, while Sora and Yamato served the food on the other side in instinctive tandem. It could have almost been an ordinary scene from years gone by if it weren’t for the utter silence. The look of disbelieving joy, warring moment by moment with horrified devastation, on Yamato and Sora’s faces were likewise a new development.

Hikari could hardly blame them. She knew exactly what it was like to be finally reunited with Takeru – after so many years of thinking him dead – only to discover that he had become a zombie.

Two parts dream, one part nightmare, she thought sadly.

“Here.” Sora’s entire demeanor was subdued as the older girl placed bowls of steaming miso soup and rice on the table before her. “Feel free to take more, you must be hungry.”

“It’s more than enough already,” said Hikari automatically. “Thank you.”

Sora hesitated. “Takeru, are you sure there isn’t anything I can get for you too?”

Takeru’s hand twitched in Hikari’s. “‘M f – f – fine,” Takeru managed to croak with a tiny shake of his head.

Yamato accidentally knocked over the salt shaker. His cheeks flushed as he cleaned up the mess, apologizing quietly. Takeru’s hand tensed again. She squeezed it reassuringly until he relaxed.

Sora’s attempt at an easy smile was a little strained, but that was fine: it was the thought that counted, after all. “Okay. Don’t hesitate to let me know if you change your mind.” She focused on filling her own bowl of miso after that.

Takeru’s hand twitched again before he pulled away. Hikari glanced at him in surprise. The garish tone of his skin seemed only to exaggerate under the fluorescent hanging lamp, unfortunately emphasizing his zombie… ness… but the slight twitch of his mouth reminded Hikari all too much of the wryness of his once human smile. “Eat,” he told her.

“It does smell good.” Hikari sniffed at the fragrant broth, savoring the homey smell of it all, and then began to eat. She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten anything so delicious and had to close her eyes briefly in sheer joy.

When she opened them, Takeru was watching her with a trace of warmth in his dulled eyes. She smiled back – beamed, really – before she continued to eat.

After a while – the silence only being interrupted by the soft clinking of spoons and chopsticks – the tension seemed to fade in that certain way that came with eating good comfort food. When Hikari finished, she realized that Yamato had already finished and had been staring wordlessly at Takeru for some time. Though neither of them spoke, their gaze was so intent that Hikari had to look down from the intimacy of it.

“I have a few questions,” Sora ultimately said, breaking the silence. She was looking with concern between the two brothers, though there was still a great deal of worry in her eyes as she looked at Hikari too. “Only I have no idea where to begin asking.”

And that was the conundrum, wasn’t it? So much had happened. How could she begin to tell such an impossible story? Her stomach sinking like a stone, Hikari realized that this, too, was only the beginning. If she couldn’t even tell Takeru’s family about what had happened, how could she possibly convince Taichi?

She started when she felt Takeru shakily reaching to cover her hand. She gripped it, relieved once more for his cool touch. His eyes were even mildly encouraging when she looked up at him. “M – m – me,” he told her hoarsely.

Hikari nodded, feeling bolstered by his support. His story needed to be told first. “We should start at the beginning,” she said, her voice not even wavering a little bit, “when Takeru first got infected.”

They talked late into the night, and didn’t stop until the sun began to rise in the sky.

<< Day 8: Mythology AU | Day 9 | Day 10: College AU >>

[imagineclaireandjamie]

For FMM- Jamie meets this guy named Murray, that comes from a Scottish family and for the story he tells Jamie he could be a descendant of Jenny and Ian.

Flood my Mornings: Hogmanay 

Notes from Mod Bonnie:

This story takes place in an AU in which Jamie travels through the stones two years after Culloden and finds Claire and his child in 1950 Boston.

See all past installments via Bonnie’s Master List

Previous installment:  Flood my (Christmas) Mornings 

December 31, 1950

“Is it ridiculous that I’m feeling nervous as a girl on the first day of school?” I asked, smoothing my coat with one hand and squeezing Bree’s hand with the other as we waited in the tidy hallway outside the MacAlister’s door. 

“You’ve no reason, lass,” Jamie assured me. I knew he wanted to put his arm around my back, but his hands were full of whisky bottles and Bree’s diaper bag. He did manage to lean in and kiss my cheek. “They’ll take to ye just fine.” 

This particular get-together was long overdue. I’d been delighted to learn about Jamie’s serendipitous meeting with the Irish hurling group, and the subsequent connection with the lone Scot, Charlie MacAlister. Though Jamie had gone several times since to join the game or else get a drink one-on-one with Charlie (apparently a chap after Jamie’s own heart in many ways), the several times we had tried to schedule a family dinner since Halloween, the fates had always seen fit to intervene, with holidays, birthdays, morning sickness, et cetera, et cetera. 

Fitting, though, that at long last, we should be spending this thoroughly Scottish holiday with a thoroughly Scottish (well, Gaelic, collectively) family. 

The door opened with a bang and a roar of “A GOOD NEW YEAR TO YE!!”

Even in the first five seconds of our acquaintance, Charlie MacAlister gave me so strong a recollection of a MacKenzie clansman, I felt like I’d been jolted back into Castle Leoch itself. Jocular, irreverent, fiercely protective and loyal to a fault, those men had alternately vexed and delighted and protected and astounded me with their vigor and kindness and overall enthusiasm for living, in all its forms. 

Perhaps that’s why it didn’t perturb me in the slightest that Jamie’s friend’s choice greeting was to lift me clear off my feet in a massive rib-crushing hug; and even though it was the first time I was laying eyes on the man, I couldn’t help but laugh and hug him back , brimming with warmth and affection at once. “Well, hello to you too!”  I felt Jamie relax behind me: I’d given my permission, so he would not come to my rescue. I thought I could actually sense him grinning.  

“I’m so glad to finally meet ye, Claire!” Charlie boomed as he set me back on the ground, taking me in. “From the way Jamie speaks of ye—” His eyes suddenly lit up and he whipped them up to Jamie with a grin. “Why, ye wicked wee dog, Fraser: ye didna say!!” He threw his head back and roared with, “Meal a naidheachd to ye both!” He straightened to give me a wink. “When are ye due, then, lass?” 

“CHARLIE!!!” barked a red-haired woman behind him, his wife, Saoirse. 

“What? It’s—” Charlie spluttered and made vague gestures between himself and my notably curved belly. “I’m only—” 

“You’re only about making a fool of yourself, Charlie Mac. Keep your mouth shut, if you please?” She gave me an apologetic look that was nonetheless warm and kind. “Please be accepting BOTH our apologies for that great gowl over there.” After greeting Jamie, she turned and swatted her husband hard on the shoulder, her eyes blazing as she said between clenched teeth. “Have you no control over that tongue??”

“I do—and ye tend to like my control of it, lass…” and he bent her head back to kiss her thoroughly. She tried to push him away but she couldn’t resist laughing as his hands roamed and she relented and kissed him back. 

God, this. THIS I’d missed—to see another couple who loved our same kind of irreverence and warmth and informality. Husbands and wives in these times—at least in post-war America—tended to err on the side of reserve in public, bordering on primness. Even Tom and Marian, as dear as they both were to to us, weren’t free with public displays of affection toward each other. Jamie and I tended to act precisely the way we wished and damn whoever should judge us for it, but it was unbelievably refreshing to not be the only ones in the room who would not be scandalized by lewd jokes.

On top of that, “Pregnancy” was considered a rather rude word, in American culture at present. Considering the massive increase in childbearing after the war, this seemed an enormously ridiculous cultural hangup (“be fruitful and multiply, but pretend the penises and vaginas don’t exist”). Those in the family way —as I now found myself—were treated with a delicate, pointed kind of embarrassment, as if to say, ‘look what she’s been doing…Heavens, what if she actually enjoyed it??’ 

I was used to the taboo, of course, having experienced it with Bree, and seen it around me, since; but it was an unexpected kind of relief to have it be so singled out with such joy and goodwill by these new friends. In fact, I was grinning like a prize idiot as I assured them both, “It’s quite alright, really.” I felt a rush of joy and pride at finally being able to share our news. I felt Jamie’s hand resting on my back. “You’ve spotted it right: we are expecting!”

Charlie gave a crow of triumph “I thought you’d been a little shifty these last few months about ‘family’ and things happening next year! When will the wean be arriving, then??”

“Late July,” I said, “or it might be the first of August.”

 Charlie stepped forward to clap both of us on the back, at which Saoirse looked absolutely mortified. I made a point of reassuring her when she leaned in to kiss me on the cheek and offer her own comhghairdeas. 

Jamie accepted the hearty congratulations, grinning like a fool himself, “Let’s keep it between us, aye? We havena told Brianna yet.” He nodded at the children, who were already playing on the living room floor. “Perhaps talk in a wee code if it should come up?”

Saoirse nodded agreement. “Wee Nolan has ears like a hare and a mouth like a magpie.” She gave a pointed roll of the eyes. “Wonder who he could possibly be getting it from…?”

It had all the same modern conveniences as our own house, the MacAlister’s little flat, but something about it—the spices, maybe?—or—no, that wasn’t it….Something about it just felt like Scotland. Like home. 

If nothing else, I could see it in Jamie’s posture and manner. As for my own country of birth, I had rarely felt any great attachment to England that went beyond good tea and rolling hills. Home had been wherever I laid my head that night, and between Uncle Lamb, the war, and my experiences in the eighteenth century, I’d certainly spent more of my life amongst strangers than my own proper countrymen. But Jamie was Scotland, through and through, and even this small taste of it—Americanized and quasi-Irish as it might be—was enough to make him glow with an ease that filled my own heart in the seeing. He was happy with our life in Boston, I knew; blissful, even! To have our family together and safe was all he desired; but something about experiencing that deeper home-ness again was a restorative to his soul, and I thanked God for putting Charlie Mac in Jamie’s path. It was pure delight to see the two of them going on in rapid Gaelic, like brothers.

“They’re like two pups together, aren’t they?” Saoirse said fondly, echoing my silent thoughts as she took a seat beside me on the sofa. 

“Indeed they are,” I laughed, looking at them through the dining room doorway. 

Saoirse was as red-haired as Jamie, freckled and cheery-eyed. “Will you be speakin’ the Gaelidgh yourself, Claire?”

“Very little,” I attempted in that language, my accent horrendous but the words correct, I was fairly certain.

“Very well done,” she replied, laughing before switching back to English, her Irish accent broad and unashamed. “That’s about as much as I know of it, myself. My parents weren’t too keen on my marrying a Scot, but I’ve no regrets. Except maybe Charlie’s tendency to put his fool foot in his fool mouth.” 

“It’s rather endearing, actually,” I assured her. 

Despite herself, Saoirse grinned. “Damn me if it wasn’t one of the things that had me head-over-heels for the idiot.” 

We laughed and settled deeper into the comfy couch, covered over with homey afghans. “So, Charlie tells me you and Jamie met in Scotland, originally? Did ye like it, there?”

“I did!” I paused just for a moment. “Well, to tell it true, a lot of sad things happened there…but we had some of our happiest days, as well,” I added, thinking of those days at Lallybroch before the war.  

“Do you think you’ll ever go back?” 

I thought about that for a long while. “To visit, certainly. When Brianna and—” I gestured to the baby, “are old enough to see and hear the stories, I think.”

“You’d never think of moving back permanently? Seems to be a dream of Charlie’s—It’d surprise me if Jamie had no similar desire.” 

We had indeed talked about it, and I knew Jamie’s very conflicted thoughts on the matter. “Part of him wishes for Scotland, yes—but it’s a Scotland that’s long-gone.”

That surprised her. “How so?”

“Jamie had…a lot of hard things happen to him there. He lost his family, and so doesn’t have anyone left.” 

“Not a soul?” 

“No one,“ I said, feeling the ache of it. I rubbed the baby absently. “So, he misses it, the land and its people and ways, but there isn’t anyone left in Scotland to make it home for him.”

“That’s very sad,” Saoirse murmured, sparing a glance toward the men in the dining room.

“It is. But you see, it’s easier to have our life in America: to keep Scotland in his mind the way it was, rather than feel the ache of it, seeing always what’s missing.”

“Aye, I understand….At least he has his lady—and his little ones.”

We shared a smile, and I wanted to ask her more about her own family, but just then the children descended, Bree, four-year-old Nolan, and little Will, just barely walking. No impromptu migration, this: the pack of them squealed in, chased by their fathers at their heels. 

“You lot are no better than the children!” I laughed. 

“Aye, maybe no’,” Jamie agreed, grinning, “But at least we’re old enough to drink, and they’re not.” 

“I AM!” Nolan insisted. “I’m plenty grow’d up!” 

“Oh, aye, to be sure,” Charlie said with a wink.  “I forgot we had a grown wee mannie in our midst.” He went to the kitchen and returned with an armful of ginger ale bottles. “A man needs a stiff drink.” He cracked open a lid and handed the glass bottle to his son, who looked terribly important at acknowledgment of his maturity. 

Bree was NOT intending to be overlooked. She put on her hips and insisted, “I’M mannie, TOO!” daring Charlie to say otherwise.

Nor did he, bless him. He already had a bottle ready for her. “Here ye go, wee mannie.” 

Bree had never had soda pop before, and she recoiled in surprise at first taste of the bubbly treat, looking as thought she’d rather skip this novelty; but, a true Fraser, she would never admit defeat with Nolan so proudly enjoying his, and so she gamely drank, getting violent hiccups almost instantly. 

“A Hogmanay toast?” Saoirse suggested, rising to her feet to pour some whisky. She offered one to me, but I accepted only a ginger ale.  Many people drank alcohol regularly during pregnancy, I knew (as had I, in the past) but somehow now it made me feel ill to think of accidentally intoxicating the poor thing. 

The toasts flew thick and fast. To our families! To the new year! To a better season on the pitch! To the whisky! And even—

“To our Bonnie Prince!” Charlie said, with an eye to Jamie, making a rude gesture toward the ceiling. “May he sleep wi’ spiders in his grave for the feckless wanker he was.”

“AAA-bloody-MEN!” I intoned with feeling.

“Aye,” Jamie said with a rueful nod as he drank, though he crossed himself.

He promptly choked as Bree squeaked out, “Whatssa WANE-gr?”

Before the rest of us could react, Nolan grinned fiendishly and started in with, “It means a–”

“That’s QUITE enough from you, a blalaich,” Saoirse said sharply. “And what would Great-Gran Murray say if she heard ye were knowing such a word??”

I shook with silent laughter along with Charlie, such that I almost didn’t hear Jamie’s quiet question: 

“…Murray?” 

My belly tightened and I whipped my eyes up to look at him. He’d schooled his face into a mask of control—a sure bellwether of the deep emotional turmoil within him. 

Good Lord…. 

“My mother’s mam. They live together in Cambridge,” Charlie said blithely as he poured more whiskey all around. “The MacAlisters were none too pleased about my Da’s choice, but even they had to admit in the end what a fine woman she was. Strong and certain and wi’ a mouth on her that could wither fruit. Not one to charm royalty, she, but a damn formidable sort, Murrays.”

Formidable.  Like Jenny. 

“From, erm, which part of Scotland, is your mother’s family?” I asked casually.

“Roundabout Inverness, mostly.”

My heart quickened with excitement. Not far at all from Broch Morda. I was opening my mouth to ask more questions, to narrow and ascertain, but then I caught Jamie’s eye, his ever-so-slight shake of the head. I closed my mouth.

Later, after supper, while Charlie and Saoirse cleared the table (refusing our many offers of help), Jamie and I took the children into the sitting room again.  

I took Jamie’s hand. “Why not, my love?” I asked gently. 

He knew what I meant, but he didn’t answer right away, nor did he look me in the eye. He pulled me close and pressed a kiss to my cheek. 

“Does it—” I began tentatively, but he was already speaking. 

“Tis enough to me,” he said, simply, “that they might be.” 

And though it at first struck me as utterly ridiculous, not to wish to know for certain, I did come to understand what he meant, as the evening went on. To KNOW was so final.  Jenny and Ian certainly had THOUSANDS of descendants, and even so, the chances that we’d encountered someone from their direct line was highly unlikely, or at the very least, very difficult to prove. To allow himself to believe–that was the gift, here.

And I could see it in his eyes, the soft contemplation of it, the sense of true brotherhood between he and Charlie now even deeper. The tenderness that radiated out from his face as he knelt to speak to little Will about a toy. I could almost see the thoughts rolling through him.

Might some scrap of this lad owe itself to Ian? 

To Jenny? 

To Ellen of Leoch or Black Brian Fraser?

Aye…it might.

“Bree, a leannan, do ye want to come sit wi’ Da?” 

“No,” she said, shrugging back and rubbing her face, “I wan’ Mama.” 

“Fair enough,” he laughed. “I would want your Mama, too.” 

“Come here, baby,” I beckoned, groaning a bit as I gathered her up against my chest. “Oof, there’s my sweet girl.” I savored the feeling, as I always did, of holding Bree in my arms and the baby in my body. The sounds around us were muffled and distant as we settled into a warm heap of love.

The radio was switched on at 10:00, detailing the new year’s celebrations happening around the country. We’d arrived late in the evening, with the little ones having taken naps late in the day to stave off sleepiness, but the late hour was still wearing on them. Hot chocolate and slices of Black Bun cake at 11:00 were enough to rouse them temporarily, but it still took a great deal to get them all conscious for the big moment as we all got to our feet for the final seconds of 1950. 

5…4…3…2…1!!!!

And as it always did, Auld lang syne began to play. It meant absolutely nothing to Jamie, of course. He had predated Robert Burns and his lyrics, and couldn’t have discerned the tune in any case, but he listened to the words with eager interest. Charlie was drowning out the radio with the traditional scots rendition, though I only knew the same anglicized version that was playing. 

Should old acquaintance be forgot,

and never brought to mind?

Should old acquaintance be forgot,

and auld lang syne?

And for the first time in my life, with my children held close and Jamie’s arm around my back, the song gave me chills:

We two have run about the slopes,

and picked the daisies fine;

But we’ve wandered many a weary foot

since auld lang syne.

We two have paddled in the stream,

from morning sun till dine

But seas between us broad have roared

since auld lang syne.

And both of us had tears running down our faces as we locked eyes. No, we wouldn’t ever forget the things of our past: neither the daisies of our life, nor the weary feet from the trampings of war, nor the roaring seas of tragedy that had indeed once swept us apart.  

And there’s a hand my trusty friend!

And give me a hand o’ thine!

And we’ll take a cup of kindness yet,

for auld lang syne.

And as we moved toward the front door for the first-footing, I kissed my trusty friend, and didn’t need to see any dark stranger outside to know that 1951 would be the best year of our lives. 

[sunshinykittens-blog]

November 1 - Stark Industries

Tony was plotting his next acquisition on the elevator ride down to Pepper’s office. Monday night’s encounter with the new housekeepers had amused him, and left him thinking about the things that were lacking in his life. He had a full life, it’s true, a company that was doing as well as he could possibly want, tons of money in the bank, houses, cars, a beautiful girlfriend, friends, expensive houses, cars, toys… but there were some things missing. He hadn’t been able to figure out exactly what they were, so he had always shoved them out of his mind when the subject came up. But those new housekeepers had brought that back to the front, reminded him of Rachel… Roberta… Regina… what was that housemaid’s name, anyway? He shook his head slightly, nevermind. The name wasn’t what was important, it was that feeling she represented. The feeling of comfort, of warmth, of homey-ness. Absently, he wondered if that was a word.

Yesterday, he had told Bruce about the exchange he’d had with the Lippy One. Bruce had laughed – out loud. Banner had never guffawed in his entire life, at least not when with the team.  “Nice,” Bruce has chuckled. “You need more people like that in your life. Keep you humble.”

Tony realized at that moment that he had been considering it in the back of his mind. “hey, somebody has to be the face of this operation, do the PR, bring in the money, write the checks. We can’t all be the humble, shy, retiring type.” He picked up a screwdriver from the bench as he sauntered by on the way to the workbench where he was tinkering with a solar powered motor. “Still, though, you may be onto something there.” He wiggled the screwdriver at Bruce. “You definitely need more socialization. You don’t get out enough.”

Pepper was munching on granola when he stuck his head in. he wondered if it was some left the previous night by the housekeepers. Her head was bent over some marketing reports, a notepad next to it on which she was scribbling away.

“You are looking beautiful today,” he said as he came up next to her and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Oh, that’s a fabulous perfume, did I give it to you?”

Pepper smiled knowingly and put her pen down, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. “Yes, Christmas last year. What are you up to?”

Tony feigned shock, pressing an open hand to his chest while letting his jaw drop and eyes widen. “Moi? Up to? What makes you think I am up to something?” He plucked the bag of granola from her desk.

She leaned back and smiled at him. “Because you are always up to something. What is it this time?”

“Gee,” he said, dropping some granola into his mouth, “it’s almost like you know me or something. Hey, this is good!” More granola found its way into his mouth. “So, remember last night? The Ghostbusters?”

“Yes,” she replied cautiously, “what about them?”

“Well,” Tony paused for a millisecond. “I need them. To prep 17C for our guest. Can you arrange that?”

“Of course I can,” she studied him. “What else?”

He drew the corners of his mouth down in a frown. “Nothing else, that’s all.”

“Uh huh,” she picked up her pen. Tony would tell her what he really wanted later. “Well then, if there’s nothing else, I have to finish going over these reports for my meeting.”

“OK, I’ll let you get back to your,” he wiggled his fingers at the papers in front of her and fake shuddered, “work. Ugh!” He shut the door behind himself, grinning, bag of granola still in hand. The plan was in motion.

 The guest was landing just before 5pm on Wednesday the first. Happy had insisted that he escort the two housekeepers and supervise the freshening up of the corporate apartment. Tony wasn’t sure why, other than years of being Tony’s bodyguard had made him much more suspicious of housekeepers than he should be. Ever since switching over to Stark Industries as Head of Security, Happy had felt personally responsible for the health and safety of every person and possession in the Tower.

Tony and Pepper had been discussing dinner when the Lippy one had popped her head into Pepper’s office asking where the spare linens were kept. Tony thought there was a linen closet on the floors with corporate apartments. If not, where would they be able to get the sheets laundered in time? Pepper promised to track down sheets and bring them up. Tony was impressed at how humble Pepper managed to stay, even as CEO of Stark Industries and his girlfriend. She never minded the small things like changing sheets. Still, if his plan went accordingly, she wouldn’t be responsible for that much longer.

About an hour and a half later, Tony and Pepper, armed with fresh sheets, made their way up to the 17th floor. The apartment looked great, he admitted. It smelled fresh and clean, lemony, just like his parents’ house had when , er… Janice? Janine? Jacinda? Whatever, when she had scrubbed the floors. There was no dust. And as he looked around he noticed other things missing. Like a vase. And the area rug. He turned to Happy, who wasn’t looking that at all. Happy pointed him to the cart, where the missing items had been placed carefully, the vase wrapped in a bath towel. He followed Pepper into the main bedroom, a naked mattress was center stage, and there was humming coming from the bathroom. Pepper knocked on the bathroom door to let the person know the sheets had arrived.

“Thank you!” the voice in the bathroom said, “I’ll go ahead and make it up, then I can get the one in the other room before Kaaaaa-“ her voice trailed off and Tony turned to see what was wrong. It was the Ghostbuster, stock still, for all the world looking like a statue again.

Just then, conversation came from the front room. The statue found her feet and scurried into the other room, passing them on her way back with an armful of stuff, her eyes carefully averted.

“I’m just saying there wasn’t any need to go buy stuff that’s gonna go bad before it gets used up!” That was Happy.

“Coffee doesn’t go bad! But not everybody is a morning person, as you apparently are. Some people prefer to have their first cup of coffee in silence and meditation. Alone! They are not going to get that in some cafeteria or breakfast meeting.” They heard the sound of cabinets opening and closing.

“Soap doesn’t go bad!”

“The Mystery Guest despises that brand of soap. And he prefers body wash in a patchouli/sandalwood blend to shower with. He also likes a citrus type candy before bed, and he has problems sleeping. That’s why I got this lavender/sandalwood linen spray, to encourage a restful sleep.”

Tony was getting nervous, maybe Happy was right to be suspicious. “How do you know all that about our guest? And what makes you think it’s a man?”

The Lippy One looks startled to see him and Pepper, but she answered, holding out a sheet of paper. “I called Hazel in HR this morning. I thought it would be nice to be sure the guest was comfortable, so she had this ready when we came in. The coffee was regular roast, it says there he likes dark. Same for the other preferences. And I assume it’s a man because mostly men like that particular patchouli/sandalwood blend.”

Tony nudged Pepper, who smiled and thanked her for going the extra mile on this one. Lippy nodded like it was just the sort of thing anyone should do, then brushed past them  into the bedroom. A few minutes later both of them came out. Lippy gave one quick glance around the room then asked where the rug and vase should go. “I took the rug up because the list says he has a cane, wouldn’t want him to trip. And it clearly states he hates anything Deflt blue, so the vase needed to go.”

Happy volunteered to deal with the rug and vase. The two housekeepers left the apartment. When Tony and Pepper were on the elevator a few minutes later, Pepper said she might have to give them raises and a change in position. Tony agreed with her, but he doubted Pepper meant the same as he did. And he wondered if she would put up and argument when he told her that he wanted Ghostbuster and Lippy to come work for him upstairs.