#then i got to slice some cheese for it and it pet me and called me a good girl as a reward for doing such a good job for it!

[transgirltrish]

today has been a very good day for me. I expected bad days, it literally hasn't even been a week since I got broken up with? it's been 5 days at most.

[neverheroes]

Here’s a bunch of stuff in the MM Tales of the TMNT comic-con sneak-peek I thought about too much!

They’ve cared so much about showing how differently they each react to and process the same situation.

Through the scene Raph is excited to tear things up and true to every iteration ever tries things his way until it doesn’t work, Don’s flight response pings into analyst mode and you just know he’s figuring out how to break stuff, Mike is thriving in team-mode and keeping them all on track, and Leo flails around like a giant ball of chronic anxiety before figuring out a plan. They’re original formula with gently new toppings and I’m ready for this slice.

Raphael

This guy! We get so much. He’s rearing to do some fighting that isn’t sparring and be free to do some actual damage. So we know he’s bored fighting is brothers and wants a challenge. He can’t handle this one and in figuring that out is “open to suggestions” which is quite the overlooked Raph quality, he’ll listen he just has to work through that impulsive reactive streak first. He’s strong and knows it, and that robot gets a harder fight. The Raph highlight for me was taking time while fighting to honour the time-old tradition of making fun of Michelangelo. <Sobs in last ronin.>

Donatello

This kid, man! It’s a long standing opinion of mine that everyone should be more scared of Donatello. His interest in understanding the threat overrides most of his fear. Cerebral af. This is his face most of the time while a robot programmed to obliterate him is directly behind him. On the surface it looks like he’s running away a lot, but he can’t exactly press pause on it to figure out how they work. His gentle heart characterisation is well intact, apologising to the robot when he damages it having already personified the thing. I honestly believe he would take it home like he’d found a new pet if that were an option.

Michelangelo

What a show of Mikey magic. He’s got the comedy relief on a casual setting with subtle jokes and unintentionally antagonistic observation style. Mike has a tiny attention span but is 100% in every moment and they draw a lot of attention to his speed and agility. He shines doing what Mikey is known so well for; keeping the family together. It was awesome to see him effectively orienting his brothers into the situation, and see them listen to him so readily. He still calls to Leo for guidance when he feels out of control, but we might be in for a more surprising personal arc than ~nobody takes me seriously~ this time around.

Leonardo

This is a blessing for Leo fans because MM Tales Leo sucks /srs. Not in the way Raph fans say it on Instagram posts, in the way that his flaws are so disparate from other versions that a mastery arc is screaming his nervous muppet name. The giftedness is still sewn in; even flailing around he has more advanced weapon control, is observant enough to be the right level of stressed when a threat shows up, and jumps into strategy finding a vantage point to make a plan like a good little Leo, but instead of our usual Leo trauma ball we (at least for now) get to watch a Leo with the confidence of a processed cheese slice be terrible at things because he’s just some kid…

Pfffffffahahhhahhahba

The Mutant Mayhem kids are the most realistically green (and by that I mean inexperienced) we've ever seen them and it's continued into Tales. With detaching from source origin and establishing a much more grounded reflection of teen life in the current world, the growth arcs over Tales and the next MM movie have such immense unburdened potential that it really could lead anywhere and I don’t know what to expect.

(Tales of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles will air in August 9th 2024 on Paramount+)

[sarathrwizard]

7 Day Camp Stay. Day: 3

Tadaaa! Day 3!

This day was a bit of a mess. You guys told me to be careful during my camping trip... but you can't stop yourself from falling when you've already started. :l

So now Donnie gets to experience how I accidentally hurt myself. Yeeeyyyy!

Hope you enjoy day 3! Under the cut.

7 Day Camp Stay

Day: 3

Donnie woke up to see clouds covering the sky. The wind had died down a bit. He sat up and saw that Mikey was making something over the fire. He got out of the tent and walked over.

In the pan there was a sandwich cooking. He had made himself a grilled cheese sandwich. Donnie wanted a grilled cheese too! So he grabbed the bread and cheese. After Mikey was done with his, Donnie placed his on the pan next. He watched it as the bread slowly toasted and the cheese became soft. He took it out when it started to drip into the pan. Finally, something that was relatively hot for breakfast. He sat down next to the fire with a cup of tea.

At some point, Mikey had made a couple of pet rocks by drawing faces on them. The large pointy one was called Dwayn. And the short flat one was called Johnson. Leo took charge of taking care of Dwayn and Mikey took care of Johnson. Mikey was doing the dishes when he looked over to find Leo misusing Dwayn as a table while trying to chop a log.

"Leo! You can't use Dwayn as a table!"

"But he's just a rock."

"He is not just a rock! He's Dwayn, the rock!"

Mikey brought Dwayn and Johnson away and cleaned Dwayn off of dirt. Donnie came up to him as Mikey was wiping it off.

"What's this?"

"Oh, this is Dwayn!"

Mikey said as he turned the triangle rock to face Donnie. It had a little durpy smile.

"And this is Johnson!"

Mikey picked up the other rock from the bench and placed it onto the table. It was shaped slightly like a bean with a dent in the middle of its head. It had a very wide smile with dots for eyes at the ends of his cheeks.

"I think I like the looks of Johnson better than Dwayn."

Mikey said as he picked Johnson up. He then tried to pick Dwayn up but it rolled over onto his finger, squishing it against the table. Mikey pulled his hand away and put the wounded finger in his mouth.

"Ow! Ow! That's why I don't like Dwayn!"

Mikey said as he jumped around.

"Then you should have treated him nicer!"

Donnie said sarcastically. Mikey put his hand under his arm and started getting the lunch ingredients out.

Later that day, Leo got out a game of clue. The clues added up. Everyone knew it was Mr Green, and there was no hiding that.

"I think Mr Green did it with the rope in the kitchen."

Raph proceeded to prove Mikey wrong.

"We're just abusing Mr Green, arnt we."

"Absolutely."

Donnie snickered. He was about to figure it out. All he had to know was where the suspect did it. Leo's turn was right before Donnie's and he decided to take a gamble.

"Okay... I accuse Mr Green, with the rope in the hall!"

Leo picked up the cards in the envelope. Everyone waited with anticipation. He took a peak inside, then spread them across the game board, proving his accusation was right. Well shucks, Donnie was so close!

Soon, it was supper time. Mikey got the fire going again and placed tin foil over a rack. Then he shaped the beef Into round disks and plopped them on the tray over the fire. Sizzle sizzle sizzle, the ground beef went. Flipping them revealed a crispy brown bottom. When they were done, he took them off and placed them onto some buns, then handed them out to the others to put on whatever toppings they desired. Leo, being his fancy self, had teriyaki sauce and a pineapple on his. Mikey had cheese and mustard, raph had lots of ketchup on his, and last but not least, Donnie put cheese and a couple of pickle slices on his. Together they ate their dinner around a roaring fire.

After they were done, Donnie made his way to the restrooms. Walking near the edge of the road, he looked up to gaze at the stars. There where so many out in the wilderness! If it was one thing that kept him fascinated, it was the vast number of stars that filled the skies.

Donnie wasn't watching where he was going and ran into a road sign. Staggering back, his foot rolled over and he toppled into the ditch. He tumbled down to the bottom and stopped on his back. He laid there for a moment to regain his orientation.

"Ow! Okay, that hurt!"

Donnie slowly sat up, feeling his lower back detest. He rolled over onto his knees and felt his right hip burn in pain. He held his hands on his hip and took a few deep breaths, hoping to ease the ache a bit. Slowly he got back onto his feet and continued to the bathrooms.

He opened the door and slipped inside, still holding his side. He hobbled his way into a stall and sat down. Looking downwards, he could see that his hip was red hot with a large bruise, sprinkled with little scratches.

Back at camp, Leo was laughing his head off.

"Oh, Miguel! That's what you get for telling Dwayn you didn't like him!"

Mikey grumbled. It wasn't very funny to him. I mean, it was his finger that got squished. Raph looked over at Mikey.

"Ya hurt your finger? Come here, let Raph see it."

Raph said as Mikey held out his hand. Raph inspected it.

"Doesn't look too bad! Maybe put some ice on it."

Raph said with a smile. Just then Donnie had returned from the restrooms. Leo was the first to see him.

"Oh, hey Dee! Finally decided to come back?"

Leo chuckled. Donnie made no comment. He held his hand on his hip and limped over to the others. Leo creased his brow.

"Donnie?"

Raph and Mikey turned there head to look at him also. When Donnie got more into the light, they could see that pain was written on his face. His cheeks were shiny with streaks from tears. Raph quickly got up and rushed over to him.

"Hey, you okay? What happened?"

Raph asked. Hovering his hand next to him. Donnie leaned his head against Raphs chest. Raph wrapped his arm around Donnie and lifted Donnie's hand off his hip. Donnie hissed.

"Ouch! Yeah, that looks pretty bad! What'd ya do to it?"

"... fell into a ditch."

"Yeeeup, That would do it."

Leo said as he took a closer look. Donnie flinched every time they even slightly touched it.

"Yeah, Raphs bringing ya somewhere to get that looked at!"

Raph said. He helped Donnie to the Taxi rocket, which is what they arrived in. Donnie sat down in the passenger seat while Raph took the wheel. He put it in reverse and slowly backed out. Mikey waved goodbye to them with a sad smile.

...

Good news was Donnie didn't have any broken bones or anything like that. It's just his hip had fallen out of place. So after seeing what they called a Chiropractor in the hidden city, Donnie could walk a bit better. They said he might have to come in again if it didn't improve. Donnie didn't like people touching him. But if it ment it would help get his hip fixed again, then he would allow it.

The instructions were to alternate a little ice and heat on his hip to help ease the pain. They also told him to avoid leaning or laying on hard surfaces. That ruled out sleeping on a mat in a tent. So Raph brought Donnie back to the lair for the night so he could sleep in his own bed.

What a day.

__________

Yeah, that could have gone better. Oop!

If you enjoyed that day, I understand. ;)

have a wonderful day! Lord bless you! ❤️

Last x Next

[katedrakeohd]

One Handsome Devil Outtakes

From Chapter 20, coming in January 2025.

Summary : Kate and Drake play drinking games and order pizza.

. ....

Drake sat down, "If drinking is your sport of choice, I'm definitely gonna win. What should we talk about?"

"I saw a bottle of whiskey in the minibar, how about a drinking game? We can play a game of Never Have I Ever.."

"I'll never say no to whiskey, but a drinking game? Do you think you really stand a chance?"

Kate walked over to Drake, sitting down on his lap, her arm wrapping around his shoulders. "The object of the game is to not drink. Or we could play truth or dare."

"I'm up for either, but truth or dare might get naughty." He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

"Ok grab the whiskey and a couple of glasses. I'll start thinking of things to ask, and we'll play both."

---

"Never have I ever been in a fist fight with someone."

Drake frowned in protest. "You don't play fair. You know my last fist fight was over you."

"Sorry, I was just looking for something easy to start with. Now drink up."

He threw back his shot of whiskey, enjoying the smokey burn of the alcohol

Drake refilled his glass, and quirked an eyebrow. If she wanted to get personal he was game. "Never have I ever...kissed a Prince."

Kate laughed, "Oh come on, you can't tell me you and Nicholas or you and Leo have never smooched after a night of drinking."

Drake scratched his head, "Pretty sure I haven't. So nope. Now bottoms up Darling."

Kate took a swallow of her whiskey, wincing at the burn and coughing. "Ok you got me. Nicholas is an excellent kisser. Too bad you've never tried it."

Drake fired her a look, "You can't make me jealous. I'm guessing you and Nicholas didn't go much further than a kiss. And please spare me any extra details. Ok we're even, drink for drink, your turn."

----Later...

Drake thought of a Truth or Dare challenge to mix things up.

"Ok, Katie Pie. Truth or Dare."

She rolled her eyes at him, " Katie Pie? Don't call me that. Stick with Darlin' it'll get you much further."

Drake poured more whiskey into his glass. "Ok, no ridiculous pet names. I like calling you Darlin', anyway. Truth or Dare?"

She chewed on her lip and felt nervous about the cocky smirk he was giving her from behind his glass. "Truth."

Drake sipped his whiskey, giving her a devilish smirk, "Hmm, have you ever faked it?"

Kate's eyes went wide, "Faked what?"

He laughed, "You're blushing redder than a Cordonian apple. You know exactly what I mean. Come on, fess up Buttercup."

---The pizza arrives..

Kate walked over with plates, handing him one.

He tipped his imaginary hat at her, "Thank - you, Darlin' " he drawled in his best American accent.

The hair stood up on the back of Kate's neck, and goosebumps rose on her arms. He sounded so sexy. The American version of his voice was lower. It rolled off his tongue like silky dark chocolate. "Wow, you do an American accent really well."

Drake pulled a slice of pizza out of the box and put it on his plate. He sucked some sauce off the tip of his thumb, "You think so? I perfected it back in college to fit in."

She felt her cheeks burn, blaming it on the whiskey. "You should use it all the time while you're here. Damn it's sexy."

He took a bite of his pizza, his face contorting as he tried to spare his tongue and mouth from the hot molten cheese and sauce. He struggled to get it down, sucking air around his mouthful as he chewed, "Fugh, thass haw."  Forcing himself to swallow, he cleared his throat and coughed into his fist.

Kate was doubled over laughing, "Ok, I take that back. Your American isn't sexy after all."

🤣🍕

-----

@lovingchoices14 @tinkie1973 @mom2000aggie @dcbbw @tessa-liam @kingliam2019 @nestledonthaveone @alyshak92 @irishgrl2022 @walkerdrakewalker @angelasscribbles @karahalloway @delmissesryanandcassi @twinkleallnight @clarkesangels

[rokishimizu4]

Letter to Lucass~!

For @thatguylucass, mainly because they gave me motivation and made me want to add a Undertale AU Skeleton comfort letter to my Etsy Shop!

Letter:

Lucianass letter from UF Sans

Hey Doll,

Now before you freak out, ‘cause I know you will, me and Paps are fine. Well, as we can be in this hell hole, heh.

And don’t worry about the brat. They’re fine. A little traumatized from a few close calls. Especially a ruff run-in with the dog guards.

Mutts won’t quit trying to sniff me, ‘cause they say that I smell like the ‘strange pup’. Got them to quit that shit a few hours ago thanks to Paps newest recipe that calls for four sliced dogs. Well Hot Dogs, but those four couldn’t catch a bone if it laid out in front of them! But I was writing this letter, Paps is so proud btw, ‘cause I had some good news to share.

See, after a few too many run-ins, or should I put swim-ins, with fish fucker, a new human showed up from the machine I’ve been working years on.

Paps and Doomfucker seems to like they well enough, and they gave me a promise of killing them if they looked at Paps the wrong way and sacrificing them if their plan doesn’t work.

Heh, I hate making promises but trusting them might be the only way out of this hell hole… forever.

Both Paps and the brat had too many close calls and Undyne is, unfortunately, not that dumb. I’m not gonna back down if she does figure it out, and neither will Paps, but we lost too much to risk losing more.

Maybe, we could meet face to face if this fucken machine starts working right again. Can’t tell you how much seeing you makes me feel. Can’t be going soft now, but I mean it.

And we can’t have you coming here, that would be Lucas, heh see what I did there?

Heh, but I won’t put you through anymore shit than what you have to go through. If this shitty plan somehow works, and we can get to a safer surface without Fish bitch or the Mad King.

You better prepare yourself sweetness, cause I’m gonna come get you and take down anyone that stand in my way.

We, we are gonna find a place with no bullshit, no LV, no red haze flooding my skull with a thirst for blood.

Just you, me, and whatever pet you want. With Paps, Doomfucker, and Paps new crush, living close by.

I know that both of us are shit at taking care of ourselves, talking about feelings and shit, but I want to try.

Sorry if the shit paper looks red, Doombitch is shedding like cheese through a grater and it’s making my eye socket water, heh.

I like you sweetheart, like a shit ton. So, don’t go dying on me before I get there, yeah?

It shouldn’t be long; this human knows their shit and is a good distraction for when nobody’s come sniffing around.

Heh, might even try some pickup lines that they use on Paps, to use on you.

I’ll see you soon Doll, that’s a promise I am willing to make and keep.

Your little bastard,

Fell (Sans)

P.S. Got the little doll that you sent me. Had to add a few things, but I didn’t get it too dirty. Just for you, baby doll.

I hope you like it Lucass, and thank you for the idea!!!

Underfell belongs to Underfell, Red is thatguylucass's husband,

Taking requests for Letters if anyone else is interested, first one is free.

[mylightsatnight]

The moments of '24.

I've been down for 3 days. maybe it's the cycle, maybe it's the inclement weather, burrowing farther into the negatives with each day speeding towards the collapse of '24, and rise of '25. Fewer friends send random texts, but I can still count on a couple for spontaneous calls every couple months...Those really mean a lot to me. But as I drove, I had a moment wherein I needed to recall some deeper moments of this year.

More than any other, this moment came back to me. I was in the kitchen, 8pm, little more than a month ago. I had just gotten mad at some online friends for making an inside joke one-too-many times. There was nothing wrong with the joke, nothing wrong with what they did, or how they said it, I was just incredibly manic, and didn't realize how sensitive I was in that moment. The person I wanted to call me back didn't, and the wife I wanted to hold in my arms didn't exist yet. I pet my dog once, and shuffled to the kitchen. I pulled out the peppers from the vegetable drawer, and got the defrosted chicken. I put the rice-maker on. I sliced mushrooms, minced garlic, and cut the shoots of the green onions. I threw it in oil, prepped the oven, I grated the cheese, and prepared every other step needed for this makeshift recipe I had never done before. I put a jazz playlist on my speaker, and paid close attention to each emotional note they played, and cut the peppers in syncopation to Oscar Peterson's triplets... I felt more calm, setting my mind to an organized task in the chaos soup of my jellied amygdala.

A song came on later, that made me put down the spatula, and permitted me to allow the rice to burn just a little so that I could dance, in my kitchen, at the end of day, alone. I couldn't tell if it was happy, or sad. (Or fuck both those emotions because the real meaning of them is never clear and it's just what we use to explain to children.) I was morose, and jovial, I was distraught and calm, I panicked as I clapped, and I felt relief as my body contorted like explosive corpses. I released something in myself that night. Maybe the only reason I could is because the curtains were drawn, the windows were closed, and even my dog didn't watch what I was doing. But regardless I thought about "A Fisherman's Beard" from Crocus. I thought about swing dancing in that church at 16. I thought about my destructive repetitive patterns that never seemed to improve despite my awareness of such flaws.

and here I break:

and here I return again:

But I don't known if my absence from the keyboard led to any more genuine, or affecting thoughts...

Maybe my search for authenticity through art is as pointless as chasing happiness, because we all know that mountain will rain once you reach the peak, and carry you down the side of the valley...

Sure, I am sorrowed, mourning for my life that could have been. But Surviving, Thriving, and Living are all different states of being that one can not easily convert into until the previous stage is conquered. I fell from grace, and now the lowest layer is where I try to surmount..

I see a couple make their way inside of the cafe I'm in, (shocker) and I realize how fortunate I am that these have remained safe spaces despite how many loves I have taken to each one...Do they still think of me? In broad daylight, or quiet hours of the night? Do I only come up when they see relationship-left-behinds? Little motorcycle statues, and gifts given at monumentally prodigious moments?

I wonder where she is...each one of the she's... and when I'm gone, I just hope they realize it will not be them that was at fault. It was always myself. I could not conquer, I could not overcome. I should have been kinder, calmer, I should have been more. ... I... I wonder if I even could have been, or it's just a farce I say to romanticize the past...

I remember her blonde hair...

It made me picture greek fountains, pouring and shooting water through warm spring days. Her, the statue at the centre, the water honouring her curves, splashing, running, her body stretched and angled in ways that make your libido double. Her smile, and her scent, summertime mint and savoury sage...

If she knew how I thought about her....would that have been enough to make her stay? I don't know... I never have. But '25 is fast approaching, and the devils of the past have no use small-talking the angels who have yet to lose their halo to horns.

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

068 of 2024

The Yellow Survey 💛

by joybucket

1. Name three things you like that are yellow. Lemons, ducklings, honey.

2. When was the last time you rode on a school bus? 🚌 Probably 15 years ago or even longer, but our school buses aren't yellow. They are white. :P

3. When you were younger, did you ever ride the bus to school? 🚌 Yeah, to secondary school. To primary school, I was taking the tram.

4. Would you say you are a generally optimistic person, or are you more of a pessimist? Definitely optimistic. I always see things as an opportunity, too.

5. Which of these names do you like best for a girl: Sunny, Joy, Summer, October, or Autumn? Joy and Autumn.

6. Are you wearing anything yellow right now, and if so, what? One of my bracelets has yellow in it, it's an autism bracelet.

8. When was the last time you made yourself some macaroni and cheese? I don't like macaroni and cheese. I tried it once and no, thanks. :P

9. Would you rather drink fresh-squeezed lemonade, a banana smoothie, or 7-Up? Lemonade.

11. What are three things that make you happy? My cat and cats in general, the beauty of nature, trains.

12. Which one of these words would you say describes you best: optimistic, childlike, childish, flirty, or bright 💡? Optimistic and childish at times, because I still have a sense of humour of a 12 years old boy. :P

13. How many times have you gotten stung by a bee in your lifetime? 🐝 Maybe once or twice, but I've been stung by a wasp more times. And I'm allergic to them.

14. Which of these cartoon characters do you like the most: SpongeBob SquarePants, The Simpsons, Bananas in Pajamas, Pluto (Goofy's dog), or Tweety Bird? Pluto and the Simpsons.

15. List three things you can see in the room right now that are yellow. A highlighter (I prefer using yellow ones, I don't know, the shade is just awesome), grocery bag from Jumbo, box of cookies.

16. Would you rather eat a slice of lemon meringue pie, banana pudding, or a cheese danish? Cheese danish. I didn't know it was called that way, though :D

17. What is your favorite type of cheese? 🧀 Young gouda and mozzarella, in recent years I also got to like emmental.

18. Are you a natural blonde? 👱‍♀️ No, I'm not. I wish I was, though.

19. Have you ever dyed your hair blonde? 👱‍♀️ No, it wouldn't work on my hair without bleaching :(

20. Name three people you know who have natural light blonde hair. My sister, our friend Peggy (her hair is really amazing), and my ex.

21. Is there a hair color you like better than blonde, and if so, what is it? Yeah, red. More like that copper shade.

22. Did you see the April 2024 solar eclipse? No, it was passing through the US :( all I could do was watching a livestream on YouTube.

23. Which of these careers do you think you would enjoy the most: motivational speaker, lifeguard, circus clown 🤡, surfer 🏄, or photographer? Photographer, definitely. It was a really easy choice. :D

24. Have you ever had a yellow lab for a pet? No, but I had a yellowish-beige dog before.

25. Do you like to eat corn on the cob? 🌽 Never tried it.

26. Which of these types of soup do you like best: corn chowder, cheesy broccoli, cheesy potato, or butternut squash? Cheesy broccoli, yum.

27. What is your favorite way to eat eggs? 🍳 Hard-boiled or scrambled.

28. Would you rather visit Spain 🇪🇸, Zimbabwe 🇿🇼, or Venezuela 🇻🇪? Spain, it's been my dream.

29. What are three of your favorite McDonald's menu items? 🍔🍟 Nuggets with barbecue sauce, Filet-O-Fish, and McMuffins (sadly not available in my country, I have to go to France for that :()

30. What are three things you dislike that are yellow? Bananas, mango, dandelions (I'm allergic to them).

31. What is your favorite shade of yellow? Neon yellow (I love neon colours, oh my), cream, lemon, chartreuse yellow.

32. What is your least favorite shade of yellow? That old gold/mustard shade or whatever. Looks like diarrhea to me.

33. What is your favorite way to eat pineapple? 🍍 I don't like pineapples.

34. List three things that you think taste better with butter. 🧈 Potatoes, bread, anything fried on butter (better than oil, in my opinion).

35. Which of these cartoon characters do you like best: Big Bird, Flounder, Charlie Brown, Woodstock, or Donald Duck? Donald Duck.

36. Do you own a pair of rain boots, and if so, what do they look like? No, I don't. Maybe I should, given my country's reputation as very rainy :P

37. Have you ever had a sunflower garden in your yard? 🌻 I had sunflowers in the garden when I was a child. They were cute.

38. Do you prefer dandelions, daffodils, marigolds, daisies, or sunflowers? Daffodils, I have some sentiment to them.

39. How many rubber ducks do you own? None. :P

40. Name someone you know who doesn't like cheese. There was someone I think, but I don't remember right now.

41. Which of these things would you prefer to dress up as for Halloween: a bumblebee 🐝 , Princess Belle, an emoji 😃, candy corn, or Big Bird? I don't celebrate Halloween, so problem solved :P maybe a bumblebee, though.

42. What was the last thing you ate that was yellow? Lemon candy for my throat. And fries before that :P

43. What was the last thing you drank what was yellow? Some kind of fruit juice.

44. Do you own a yellow sweater? No, I don't.

46. When was the last time you ate banana bread? Never, but I ate banana pancakes and they were strangely good, even though I don't like bananas.

47. What are three things you like about the sun? ☀️ It's warm, it shines when there's no clouds in the sky, and it's always nice to see the sun in this rainy country.

48. Do you know anyone who is colorblind and can't see the color yellow? No, I don't.

49. When was the last time you used a highlighter marker to highlight something? Yesterday, for marking the packing list, and today at work, to mark the missing parts for my team leader.

50. What are three things you like that are yellow that haven't already been mentioned? Fries, yellow tulips, yellow curry.

[fairytailskies]

"Pineapples, you say?" He felt silly not having thought of pineapple, "Good call, E." Mathias was one of those rare individuals that liked pineapple with his pizza. In his opinion, it was the perfect mix of salty and savory. He requests them to be added to both pizzas he was ordering, since it seemed they both enjoyed it on their pizza. He shakes his head at Ethan's comment, jokingly asking, "You're just trying to hog all the good savory pineapple slices for yourself, huh? Too bad. Now they are both going to be pineapple sausage and cheese pizzas!" Then, he snorts, "I can only imagine the way some people would call this order a crime, you know. Is there something wrong with us or them?" Trick question, it was them. Whoever they were. It was these moments that reminded Mathias as to why he loved living here, because he wouldn't trade the memories with his family for anything else. Even when they were roasting him, like Ethan currently was.

"I suck?" He scoffs, looking at Lola, "I suck, Lola. Can you believe the blasphemy coming out of this guy's mouth? You're just going to sit there and accept his pets, too, aren't you?" Lola did exactly that, and Mateo returns his attention to Ethan, "I hope you're aware we will have to have another match, because I can't just let you walk in here and insult me like that. You were just getting some good luck, but that's over now. I'm going to come back full force in our next match." For now, he leans back into the couch, his attention is more focused on Ethan's update. "I can get behind that. Taking things slow, it's always a good start to anything. And you know, whatever you need, I got you." He chuckles, jokingly adding, "I mean, unless it's cooking. You should just let your ma take care of that, because I've kind of been slacking as of late in that department. You'd be stuck eating pizza and homemade pasta all the time." Just then he takes a generous sip of his beer, before selecting the random button on the character selection screen. "You ready to get owned? Loser has to grab the next round of drinks."

"Sausage is fine. Pineapples too, maybe?" Ethan's voice was hopeful. He knew that not everyone enjoyed warm pineapples on pizza but it was something that he enjoyed, and it didn't hurt to ask. Maybe one of these day someone would agree. "You can just have them put that on my half if you're not down." Ethan relaxed back into the couch. Hanging with his cousin again was definitely one of the most enjoyable perks of being back home. They'd practically grown up together as brothers and Ethan had missed seeing him as often when he'd been living in Seattle. It wasn't that Seattle was far or anything, but going from being comfortably surrounded by family at any moment to having to make a concentrated effort to spend time together had been an adjustment. Then touring had happened and Ethan had had to rely on texts and phone calls to keep up with everything that was going on. So, as much as he missed being on the road, doing what he loved, he couldn't begrudge the extra time he got to be around the people he loved. Even if they sometimes drove him crazy.

"Bro, I haven't been brushing up. I'm just naturally talented. And you suck." He almost stuck out his tongue as he teased, but instead, Ethan simply grinned and scratched behind Lola's ear. "Nothing interesting. Private music lessons while I figure out what the hell I want to do with my life again, but mostly just sitting around and letting ma cook for me. You know -- the good life."

[cubicle-eyes]

Pants

Max , m!reader

PLATONIC

Reader is implied to be Robin's brother, but might as well be Max's in this fic lol

Y/N is graduated.

Max probably knows him through Steve and/or Billy.

Y/N's house = second home

Platonic cuddling and Y/N just pets her hair 🥺

A/N: spelling errors because I'm DYING.

TW: Literally About Periods, so be a man and deal with it.

Summary: Max had an inncident and shows up at your house for a solution, and your happy to help.

"SHIT, Y/N!"

"WHAT? WHAT HAPPENED?!"

Y/N cried. He flung open the door. Max was standing on the front porch, and she despretly shoved her way inside. It wasn't uncommon, since Y/N lived very close to the highschool, but Max never dropped by so.. violently.

"Do you have an extra pair of pants?" She pleaded. Y/N, suddenly understanding, relaxed.

"Damnit, Max! I thought you were injured or someone was dying! Shit! Had me all worried over some pants."

"Well it's not my fault I bled through them!"

"Yeah, yeah. Do you use tampons? I only have pads but I can go grab some if you want."

"Why do you even have-"

"Robin."

"Oh. I can use a pad until I get home."

"Good. How bad was it?"

"Not that bad."

Max followed Y/N like a lost puppy as Y/N glanced at her pants and back to his dresser.

"I have a pair VERY similar to those that Robin left here, so change into these. Want a pair of underwear too? It'll be boxers but I have an unopened pack."

"That would be great."

Her voice was suddenly small as Y/N handed her the pants. He grabbed the bag of boxers, opening it. He shrugged, handing them to her.

"They might be a little big and if they are you can wear my belt and look like a pimp with your undies hanging out your pants."

"Y/N!"

She laughed, starting for his bathroom. Y/N waited for her, to make sure she didn't have any trouble. She cracked the door after awhile.

"Belt."

"Yep."

Y/N turned, grabbing the belt he had hanging in his room and jogging back to the bathroom door, handing it to her. She thanked him, shutting the door again. She came back out after awhile, awkwardly holding her pants in a bundle, and Y/N assumed her underwear was in there.

"You want to stay awhile, Maxine? I'll make you a snack, wash your pants."

"Sure. Thank you."

"No problem. Steve may be the babysitter, but only because I'm the brother."

Y/N chuckled to himself, taking her clothes. He could tell Max thought it was odd he was so.. okay with the mention of her monthly. To Y/N, a man didn't care, and a boy would squirm and complain. He threw the clothes in the washer, and head back to the living room. Max had made herself comfortable, spread out on Y/N's couch as she flicked through the channels.

"Earth to Max, what do you want to eat?"

"You got crackers?"

"Yep. Want anything with them or are you a basic bitch?"

"I will smack you with the power of God if you call me 'basic' or 'bitch' ever again."

"Still."

"You got pickles?"

".. No, no cheese, no meat nothing? Pickles and crackers?"

"Yep."

"..Do you want me to cut one into slices for you?"

"Yes please."

She grinned dramatically, blinking her eyes and trying to sway Y/N with her innocence. Y/N turned, flipping her off as he grabbed a pack of crackers and the pickle jar. She scoffed.

"If you were looking I'd flip you off so hard."

"Well I'm not. Resort to your worst, Maxi-pad."

"You. Did. Not."

She bust into laughter, and soon Y/N was bringing the wheezing girl her snack. She sat up, and Y/N sat next to her. Max dug into the snack, subconciously leaning her body against the older boy. Y/N grinned to himself.

"Hey Max, whenever you're done with your snack you should head home. Just swing by tomorrow for your clothes."

"M'kay. Thanks again."

"For such a little shit," Y/N muttered, playing with Max's ponytail, "You are really nice."

"I'm not."

"Are too."

"'m not!"

"Are too!"

Max laughed, wiggling around to get more comfy againt Y/N. He rolled his eyes, taking the remote and flicking through the channels. Max would head home soon, but for now, they were content existing with each other.

[slashersgirlypop]

Grilled Cheese Chapter 6.

TW: NON-CON AND NON SEXUAL SPANKING

(September 1st, 1978)

            I huffed, bored out of my mind. Yes, I was still scared of the big, strong, stabby man, (who I just started to call Mask-Man), but I also was locked in the closet for a great majority of the day. If I had to guess, I had been in this closet for maybe five or so hours? Maybe more? All I knew was that when I knocked on the door, asking for at least some food, a slice of cheese was shoved at me. He only let me out today twice to use the restroom. I heard him leave about maybe an hour after locking me in the closet and then come back four hours later through the back door.

            Some point during the day, before he left, I heard Miss Petunia come down the stairs. I don’t know what happened, but it didn’t sound like there was any sounds of pained meows. I did hear her begin to eat food, so thankfully the stoic and silent Mask-Man does have decency to at least feed her.

            “Excuse me? Sir? Mr. Mask-Man-Person? Are you, uh, just planning on keeping me in here forever? You know, I got a job and friends who might be wondering where the hell I am. Also, it’s really boring in here. I counted all the brush-hair-things on the broom in here fifteen times. I’m worried I’ll go crazy, so, can I be let out?���

            As expected, I got no response. I groaned, slumping against the door, sliding down until my butt hit the floor. I began to light bonk my head against the wood. Alright, time to use the annoying-hostage-girl approach.

            “Let me out please.” Bonk.

            “Let me out please.” Bonk.

            “Let me out please.” Bonk.

            “Let me oOF-,” I huffed, falling on my back once he opened the door. I stared up at him, my head between his shoes, him looking down at me. Even though I couldn’t see his face, I hoped he looked annoyed by my successful antics.

            “Mra?” Miss Petunia chirped from Mask-Man’s shoulder, looking down at me curiously. My mouth slightly opened in betrayal at my cat. While I was locked in the dusty old closet, my beloved pet was buddying up and getting all cozy with my captor. The audacity of pets, I swear.

            “Alright. So, are we just gonna have a staring contest, Mask-Man? Am I allowed to come out? If you’re planning on a staring contest, it’s not really fair on my end because you could be blinking and I’d have no way to tell with your mask and all.” Shrugging, I looked up at the man. He just stared at me before walking away, leaving me on the floor.

            Groaning, I sat up, feeling my joints cracking in my back. I hoping he wasn’t planning on locking me in the closet tonight, because that would not be comfortable to sleep in. Speaking of which, where did he sleep last night?

            I turned, jumping as he just stood behind me.

            “How are you so fast and quiet, pal?” I asked. Wordlessly, he thrusted two objects into my chest. It was a notepad and crayons. Did…did he want me to draw or something? Then, Mask-Man pushed me not too gently into the family room, where the TV was on, playing cartoons. He shoved me into a chair before walking over and plopping down on the couch. Miss Petunia mewed softly at him as if the gently chide him before hopping off his should and walking over to me. She laid at the bottom of my chair, her head on my foot, and she began to purr quietly.

            Mask-Man said nothing, only focusing his attention on the animated figures. Honestly, this is not how I would imagine a kidnapping or hostage-taking-thing would go. It could be worse; I could be dead. At least my only reason to be alive is that I make him food.

            I began to absentmindedly draw on the paper, getting lost in my thoughts. I didn’t want to be his cook forever, and eventually someone other than Mr. Steinberg is going to wonder what happened to me and come check on me. Mrs. Gracie most likely will send one of her boys to check on me, like she did when I was sick with the flu and had to take off work. Until then, I have to figure out how to play my cards right and not piss off this guy to the point of killing me. Despite my numerous other escape attempts, I knew I could get out and get help. But how is the question? He’s always there, he’s quieter than an ant, he can kill me probably with one hand, so what would I do-wait. My crayon skid to a stop on the mane of the badass centaur I was drawing

            Does he know I have a gun?

            Earlier, when I thought he was just some kid pulling a mean joke, I did mention it, but I don’t know if he thought I was bluffing or not. I hope he does think I’m bluffing. I could use the gun and force him to let me out, or even kill him. I frowned at that idea. I don’t really like the idea of taking a life, even if he did kill people, but if I must…

            I stood up, stretching my arms, his head turning to me. He began to stand up as well before I sighed.

            “I’m just going to make myself some food, Mask-Man. No need to patrol and act as my guard. I’m not dumb enough to try to escape again,” except that I was, “so just, chill out. I’m just hungry because all you gave me was a slice of cheese.” He paused before slowly sitting back down, his head still pointed at me. Then, he slowly turned his attention back to the screen.

            Taking deep breathes as quietly as I could as I walked kitchen, my eyes zeroed in on the drawer where the pistol was. Casually, I approached the pantry, which was near the drawer, but unfortunately in sight of the family room, meaning Mask-Man could see me. It also just occurred to me that I had no idea how to use a fucking gun. It couldn’t be that hard, right? Just aim and shoot. I mean, I think it was loaded, although I wasn’t sure.

            After pretending to peruse the pantry, I took a deep and shaky breath before yanking open the drawer and grabbing the gun. I gripped it with both hands and pointed it at the man, who now was staring at me, standing up.

            “You know what this is, buddy? It’s a fuckin’ gun. I didn’t wanna do this, but I had no choice. Let me go,” I ordered, trying my best to look intimidating despite the man practically being a giant compared to me. He merely stared at me, before taking a step in my direction, which I yelled at.

            “H-HEY! No! Don’t take any steps towards me, you mask-guy-man. Stay there! I will shoot! Don’t try me!” He proceeded to take several more steps, despite my warnings. When he was within five feet of me, I closed my eyes and aimed the gun at his head.

            “I’m sorry, but I warned you!” I pulled the trigger, wincing and bracing myself for the inevitable fact that I will be staring at a corpse when I opened my eyes.

            Click. My eyes whipped back to the gun, wide. It’s in that moment I realized that it, in fact, wasn’t loaded. Fuck.

            He grabbed the gun and wrenched it out of my hands, throwing it aside, staring down at me.

            “Shit, oh shit, I’m sorry, please don’t kill me, I’m sorry! PLEASE!” I pled, shrieking as he grabbed my hair, no doubt pulling out strands as he dragged me to the living room, my scalp screaming in pain.

            He sat down on the couch, yanking me over his lap, making me lose my breath. He grabbed my jeans and yanked them down along with my panties, exposing my ass to the open. I began to writhe, desperately trying to get off him. He was going to rape me, he was going to fucking rape me-

            I gasped in pain as I felt his big hand come down of my right cheek, the pain bursting out. I didn’t have time to process what he was doing though because he continued to spank my ass, no doubt leaving bruises at a relentless pace. I began to sob around thirty, dangling miserably from his lap.

            My ass felt like it was on fire. He didn’t stick to a pattern, he just spanked. I never had felt so humiliated in my life.

            By the time he was done, I was a sobbing mess. Snot was dribbling slowly out my nose onto the carpet below, tears also staining the carpet.

            I choked on air when he cruelly gripped my left cheek, digging his nails into the skin. I just let him, feeling defeated. I didn’t know how to react. I was just grateful he was done.

            He shoved me off his lap and onto the carpet. I yelped, before continuing to sob, my rear exposed to the air still.

He just ignored me, as he normally did.

~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪~🔪

ye, sorry if you aren't normally a crier, (y/n) got a bit of a traumatic experience. I was basing her reaction off what I would do in this situation, and I would just fuckin sob and feel weak. MERRY CHRISTMAS/HAPPY HANUKAH/ HAPPY WHATEVER YOU CELEBRATE!!!! See ya, my fellow slasher sluts.

[petermorwood]

Garlic!

We’ve got an old-ish French cookbook...

...that arrived about 30 years ago with some enamelled cast-iron cookware, now showing their age a bit but still going strong (winks at self in mirror...)

The recipes are all home-style - often farmhouse-style - rather than Haute Cuisine, and IMO all the more appealing for it.

With Hallowe’en just round the corner, here are a couple of soups with a lavish use of one particular ingredient to keep the vampires at bay.

Garlic Soup

Ingredients:

5 heads (!) of garlic

some oil for frying

2 potatoes

5 thick slices of bread

salt & pepper.

Method:

Peel the garlic cloves and put them into a pot with some oil.

Fry until lightly coloured.

Peel the potatoes, cut them into small pieces and add to the pot along with hot water and the bread. (Mme David doesn’t specify how much water, so I suppose it’s cook’s choice to make thick soup or thin.)

Simmer for 1/4 hour then put through a food mill / blender / processor or use a stick-mixer.

I’d dress each bowlful with a swirl of cream and a sprinkle of snipped chives; maybe also a few drops of Tabasco, some bread croutons and bacon lardons.

But that’s just me.

*****

Garlic soup au “P’tit quinquin”

This means “little kiddie” in Picardy dialect. It’s also a brand of lemonade, but I have no idea how it’s associated with soup. Since the slang name for fried choux doughnuts / beignets is “pets de nonne” (nun’s farts) your guess may be as good as mine. :->

*****

An old Northern saying goes: "if men knew what garlic is worth, they would plant acres of it.” (journaux = an old measure of area)

Ingredients:

3 litres of water

30 (!) garlic cloves

2 cloves

4 sage leaves

salt & pepper

bread

butter

grated cheese

Method:

Put the water, garlic, cloves and sage leaves in a saucepan.

Season with salt and pepper and simmer for 15 to 18 minutes.

Pass through a mill / blender etc..

Pour into a soup tureen lined with slices of bread which have been previously buttered, sprinkled with grated cheese and put in a hot oven (or under a grill / broiler).

Once again I’d add things: in this case the presence of cheese suggests topping off with onion rings either crunchy or caramelised soft and very brown, and the cloves and sage would be enhanced by a dusting of quatre-épices (4-spice mix).

But again, that’s just me. :-)

(Somewhat later @dduane​ plans to try a recipe from 1922 called “Goose done Vise-style” - braised with pot-au-feu vegetables, then cut up, dipped with egg and flour, fried golden in butter and served alongside the veggies with a nutmeg and garlic cream sauce. The recipes in this little book suggest that French rural-regional cooking is serious stuff. Yum...)

[gwynrielsupremacist]

TWISTER

suggested by: @imsointobooks

Read at AO3

Gwyn knew her friends were doing it on purpose.

She fucking knew it.

Gwyn, Nesta, and Emerie had been friends since they'd seen each other in preschool. Since then, no one thought of those three separately, they were a formidable trio.

Her companions knew that if they attacked one, you attacked all three.

They had decided to go to self defense classes because, honestly, the world sucks and you have to be prepared for anything.

And everything had gone great, they had signed up for classes. The problem was when they came to those classes and saw their coaches.

Damn.

Coaches weren't supposed to be that fucking good.

The first classes had gone well, they had been more destined to know each other than to anything else.

The problem was that it was impossible to try to pay attention to the exercises if your coach was that hot.

There were two of them, Cassian and Azriel.  Apparently, the two had been thrown out of theie house as soon as they turned 18, and the best they did was fight, so they started a self-defense class.

Gwyn thought she remembered being told they boxed.

Well, that explained how they could have so many muscles.

Nesta said they even had muscle in their muscles, which was greeted with a laugh from the three friends.

But Nesta was not wrong.

According to her, she and Cassian knew each other before, having met at a party and, according to Nesta, she was sure they had slept.

She didn't know when or where, but she was sure of it.

And they hadn't been slow to go back to bed.  Specifically, it had taken two months to get into each other's bed.

Gwyn didn't care about that, in fact, she liked Cassian, and loved that her friend was happy with him.

The problem was when she saw Azriel.

She was sure that Azriel was not interested in her.

But, Gwyn was interested in him.

And she was afraid of being friendzoned.

They were friends, talking to him almost daily, seeing each other four times a week for self-defense classes, and sometimes he even had invited her out to have a drink, but nothing more.

She had been that way for almost a year and a half.

And honestly, Gwyn couldn't take it anymore.

That day, she was assured that she was going to propose to Azriel. She might invite him for a drink, or she might ask Nesta and Emerie to help her have a moment alone with him.

They had stayed at Cassian's apartment, which had become Nesta's part-time house, since she spent more time there than at hers. The five of them had decided to have a party, with a lot of food, a lot of laughter, and a lot of alcohol.

And as much as her friends cheered her on, she knew that she wasn't going to make any progress with Azriel.

They flirted quite a bit, yes. In the relationship they had, flirting and bantering was never lacking.

But Gwyn didn't know if they were joking or if he was really interested in her.

Although, that man was never going to be interested in her.

Those were Gwyn's thoughts as she got ready in Nesta's rented house, alongside Emerie, who was putting on a good deal of mascara and lipgloss.

"In the end you go with Mor after being with the boys?" Nesta asked Emerie, while putting on tight black pants and a crop top, accentuating her full, round breasts. Emerie said no, searching in the wardrobe a dress she could wear that night.

She wished she had that body. She did not like her own, she seemed completely undesirable, with so many freckles, so few curves ...

"Gwyn, if you're thinking again that you don't like your body, I swear I'll hit you with the 24-centimeter heels." Nesta threatened, holding some gorgeous black party heels in her hand.

"Are you going to wear those? You'll fall in the middle of the sidewalk… ”Gwyn advised, putting on some blue eyeshadow, accentuating her teal eyes, the only aspect of her features that she loved.

"No, I'm going to take these to give you the hell out of you if you keep thinking you're not pretty."  Nesta protested, dropping her heels with a crash.  She heard Emerie curse when her eyeliner moved from the bump of her heels. Emerie shot Nesta a nasty look as she reached for some make-up remover wipes and brushed off the hideous part of the eyeliner.

Gwyn avoided answering, getting up from the chair she had been sitting in for at least 15 minutes to go to the closet, opening it with a huff when she saw that she had nothing to wear.

"Do you want me to lend you my miniskirt? I think I have one that is too small for me, it may take you..." Emerie proposed, smiling when she felt satisfied with her eyeliner.

Gwyn denied, rummaging through the hangers until she found baggy jeans and a white blouse that revealed much of her collarbones and the curve of her breasts.

Glad, she undressed in the middle of the room, looking for the strap to adjust the jeans.

"Today are you going to say something to Azriel or are we going to return to the same vicious circle of 'Hello, I like you very much and it is obvious that you like me too, but since we are both assholes, we don't realize it?'"

"He doesn't like me. Also, he didn't like one of the girls in our college class? What was that girl's name ...? " Gwyn thought aloud, not remembering the name of that lucky girl who had gotten the attention of the handsome Azriel.

"The day he eats your mouth we are going to pretend to be surprised." Emerie mused, picking up her purse and hanging it over her shoulder, adjusting her gold dress snugly, ready to step out of it.

Gwyn rolled her eyes, but a spark of hope began to glow inside her.

Maybe today was the day ...

Arriving at Cassian and Azriel's loft, they stood waiting in the entryway, the cool summer air cooling their already sweaty bodies.

Suddenly she heard passing, the door opening and coming out Cassian, in a T-shirt and jeans.

Smiling, he gave Nesta a tender kiss on her lips, and then smiled at the other two.

Emerie and Gwyn smiled back at him, but the latter was a lot busier looking for the other trainer.

Cassian grinned: "Looking for something, Gwynnie, or someone?"

Gwyn snorted grumpily: "Azriel wasn't coming?"

Cassian nodded, letting the three girls enter the loft to close the door to possible bugs on the street: “He's finishing his shower. We had a much longer boxing session than usual. "

Gwyn hummed, looking around the great house they had.

In sight was the living room, two immense sofas separated by a table, the television placed on the wall, televising some soccer game.

Suddenly, Gwyn heard a door open, and Azriel came out, flushed from the heat of the bathroom, already dressed in a T-shirt and sweatpants.

Making sure he didn't see her, she glanced over at him.

Hell, the shirt had stuck to his abs, giving her a very good view of what he had hidden there.

Gwyn shyly approached her coach, and when she was almost an inch from him, she gently touched his back, causing him to turn.

Az's face lit up at the sight of her: “Gwyn. I thought you weren't coming today."

Gwyn frowned, smiling: "Why wouldn't I come?"

Azriel led her into the living room, where Nesta, Cassian, and Emerie were already attacking the bowls of food that were on the head table to one side of the sofas.

“I thought Cassian had told me you had theater class. Apparently, I got it wrong. "

Gwyn nodded, almost drooling at how good all that food smelled and looked.

She grabbed an elongated bag with a foreign substance inside, and while she took a bite, she asked him, politely: "How are you doing your final college work?"

Azriel was a senior in veterinary college, and he had a final work to do on it.

Azriel sighed, earning a smile from Gwyn: “Fatal, I can't find any information anywhere and besides, I only have three weeks left to deliver it. Right now I should be upstairs, looking for information."

"I can help you find information, I am quite good at that aspect of doing work."

Azriel smiled at her, grateful, but she thought she saw, before he went to where his brother was, that the gaze had rested for a few seconds on her lips.

She quickly shook her head, dismissing that possibility. It must have been an optical effect. Yes, it must have been that.

She walked over to where everyone was, sitting next to Emerie and Cassian, Azriel finding himself in front of her.

"How are you doing your first year of university?"  Cassian asked, eating a slice of vegetable pizza.

Nesta looked at him in disgust, grabbing a slice of pizza with extra cheese and barbecue sauce: "That pizza should be off-limits."

Cassian looked at her, disappointed: “This good one! Taste it.” He asked, bringing it closer to Nesta's mouth.

Nesta chewed it, made a disgusted face, and took a good bite out of her portion, while she chewed, saying, “This is good. Not that vegetable crap.  Pizza is supposed to make you fat, not lose weight."

Emerie supported her, but decided to grab a burrito, passing one to Gwyn, which she gladly accepted.

And so it was for most of the night, talking and teasing each other, until the moment came when the food disappeared, leaving room for the bottles of alcohol.

Gwyn wasn't used to drink, so she got a shot of piña colada, one of the few licors she loved, while Nesta held a bottle of vodka caramel, which she shared with Emerie.

"We have to do something. It's still twelve o'clock and no one is sleepy, right? "

Everyone denied, even the black cat that had magically appeared in Azriel's arms.

Gwyn looked at him in shock, pointing, "Have you adopted a cat?"

Azriel nodded, stroking the feline: “He appeared at the veterinary clinic where I practice. They asked the students if anyone wanted to keep it and, well, I always wanted a pet so… I kept it. " He said, smiling.

Emerie asked to hold the cat, holding it carefully, while she stroked his head lovingly.

"Is beautiful. What's it called?"

"Black cat." Cassian replied, proud of himself, as he continued: “If I am going to allow a pet in my loft, at least it will be called what I want, so it is called 'Black cat'.

Gwyn looked at Azriel, confused and amused.

Azriel grinned, picking up the cat that Emerie offered him.

Gwyn looked at Nesta, discovering that she had disappeared at any moment.

She looked at Cassian, asking, "Where is Nesta?"

He looked up the stairs, frowning: "She said she was going to find a game to play together."

Gwyn made a sound of assent, suddenly watching her golden-brown hair flutter as she came down the stairs, a giant box in her arms.

Cassian cursed, leaping up to help her girlfriend get things down, while whispering something in Cassian's ear, both of them grinning mischievously.

The game couldn't be seen from that position, but she saw Azriel look dangerously at Cassian, who couldn't stop smirking.

When Nes put the box down, the name of the game came out.

Twister.

Emerie looked amused at her friend, while Gwyn glared at her.

Those two had ganged up on her.

Nesta took out the cloth from inside the box, as well as the little wheel with the different colors and positions in it.

Emerie got up, dragging Gwyn, whom she no longer found the game amusing.

“Emerie, Cassian, Gwyn and Azriel, you guys play. I'll be the one spinning the wheel. " She announced as she dropped the fabric to the floor, smoothing it out.

Gwyn glanced at Nesta, promising imminent death, but she did nothing but laugh, kindly asking Gwyn to stand in her place.

"Okay, whoever falls loses." Nesta warned, supervising everyone to get in their places.

Satisfied, she began spinning the roulette wheel.

"Cassian, right hand in red."

Cassian made a rather pathetic attempt to get to the red, deciding to go down when it was obvious he was failing at purpose.

"Cassian, disqualified!" Nesta yelled with a mischievous smile.

To which Cassian replied, shrugging his shoulders: "Wow, I'm really bad at these things." He mocked up, sitting next to his girlfriend.

Nesta turned the roulette wheel again.

"Emerie, right foot in yellow."

Emerie did.

"Gwyn. Left hand in red. " Gwyn could be pretty sure she hadn't moved the spinner, but she let her be, putting her hand up.

Cassian spun the wheel: "Az, right hand in green."

And so they continued, until Emerie lost, crashing down on top of Gwyn.

It was all laughter until Gwyn and Azriel were left alone.

And, although Gwyn thought she would be fucking uncomfortable, her instinct urged her to fight, she couldn't let that man win.

So she played, the flexibility helping her in many moments.

Until her winning instinct faded, realizing what position she and Azriel were in.

Gwyn had both hands extended, while her feet were together, but she had Azriel down, and she knew her breasts were fucking close to his face.

And the bastard laughed.

She looked at him, enraged and embarrassed.

She felt a wave of pleasure run through her body when he winked at her.

"Hiii, Earth calling Gwyn, left foot to green." Nesta mocked, grinning.

Getting into a much more comfortable posture, she moved, her lips forming a mocking smile, a good 12 inches away from Azriel.

"Azriel, right hand to yellow."

Azriel ran his hand from green to yellow, staying quite close to her left foot.

Looking defiantly at Azriel, she made the next four or five moves, she wasn't sure.

Of course, she couldn't be sure since Azriel, in some way she couldn't understand, was underneath her, while Gwyn was straddling his hips.

Azriel grinned, listening carefully to the next position.

"Azriel, right foot to blue."

He had smirked, while she tilted her head, not understanding what the hell had made to smile like that, until, when he was lifting his foot, he raised his pelvis minimally, making his crotch crash against the parts more intimate of her.

She almost felt faint as that prominent bulge passed through her core, teasing.

Looking at Azriel with a strong blush on her features, she heard Nesta's next command.

"Gwyn, left hand to red."

Gwyn swore she had heard a chuckle as she said that.

Fuck.

She couldn't believe that she had to put that fucking hand in that fucking color.

Stretching out as far as she could, she placed her hand on the blue panel, but she had a serious little problem with that position.

Now her breasts were, no doubt, practically on top of Azriel's face.

And, although Azriel wore a somewhat embarrassed grin, it was suppressed by the bright eyes of mockery and pleasure.

She knew her own eyes must be that way.

"Azriel, left hand to green." Emerie laughed.

Those little bastards were going to pay for it.

As soon as she took care of the overwhelming lust and pleasure she felt in those moments, her clit pulsing dangerously close to his cock, they'll pay for it.

Azriel waved his hand, and suddenly both mouths were less than an inch apart.

Their breaths were paralyzed at that very moment.

Damn, what lips the very asshole had.

They were red from having licked them so much during the night.

They seemed to share thoughts right then and there as Azriel lowered his gaze from her eyes to her lips, licking his slowly.

Her core tightened, noticing how her panties got soaked little by little.

Gwyn, feeling daring, lowered her eyes to his lips, biting her bottom lip.

What tension. She was using all of her damn self-control not to kiss him, at least not in front of all of them.

Gwyn frowned suddenly, suspicious of those three.

Turning quickly, she watched as Emerie ate popcorn from a bucket, while Nesta and Cassian appeared to be enjoying a romantic comedy.

Hint: the rom-com was Azriel and her.

In addition, the roulette that it decided where to put each person's hands and legs was nowhere to be found.

Realizing her terrible deception, she jumped up from Azriel's lap, pointing her finger at Nesta: "You little son of a bitch! You weren't using the roulette wheel!"

Laughing slightly, Emerie replied, "She hasn't used it since I've stopped playing." She scooped a bunch of popcorn into her mouth before handing the bucket to Nesta.

Gwyn stared at her incredulously, Nesta saying, smirking: I thought you'd find out sooner."

At the same time, she felt betrayed and grateful.

Well, she had discovered that Azriel wanted her. At least it was something.

She noticed how Azriel approached her silently, and she would have expected him to place beside her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders as he normally did with her, or saying something to ease the sexual tension that had been there.

However, he got dangerously close to her earlobe, licking it with the tip of his tongue and then tugging at it, whispering seductively, "Are you ready for round 2?"

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[themaribatpit]

Jasonette July Day 1: Suit Up

EDIT: Written by The Maribat Pit Content warning: Swearing, there is a quote that is a reference to Titans!Jason, references to Chloe’s actions in “Battle of the Miraculous”. Rated: T Inspired by: that one Tumblr post that suggested what would happen if Jason used a Lucky Charm.   Prompt: Suit Up The kidnappers had Marinette, and Jason knew that desperate times called for desperate measures.  Marinette hadn’t returned home from her mission the night before, Plagg returned that morning without her.  He explained that Marinette had managed to free most of the kidnapped kids, but she was captured shortly after being depowered.  They assumed she was one of the kids that hadn’t managed to escape. 

Jason went from slightly worried to absolutely frantic.  Roy was still in rehab, and there was no time to call in the Bat clan for help, it was up to him.  In his mind, the more time they wasted, the closer she came to sharing his fate.  “Great, just fucking fantastic”, he muttered to himself “the bad guys have the girl you love and you’re here looking for her jewelry”.  If he went in guns blazing as the Red Hood, they would probably just kill her instantly and without a second thought.  That being said, she would probably kill him later for tearing through the apartment like this.   He was flipping the bed on its side, opening all the drawers and pulling out all of the contents.  He was trying to find the Chinese Miracle Box, thinking maybe someone in there would help him if it meant saving their Guardian.  He remembered a conversation they had when his curiosity about her powers got the better of him.

“So what if you were to, hypothetically, use several of these things at once?” He remembered asking.

“I did once, the Multimouse clones were using different fusions.  Wearing them all at once can be pretty draining, even the fusions can be pretty taxing at the best of times if I’m not careful” she explained.

She also explained what happened when her old classmate tried to put on various Miraculous at once and started demanding power from them. Suffice it to say she didn’t get her way.  So, by the sound of things, Tikki was his best bet, or he’d probably end up pissing off the other ones like Chloe did.

He found the box in her closet and opened it, to find that Plagg’s ring was missing and so were Tikki’s earrings.  He closed the box and pushed it back into the closet, before searching the room for the earrings.  She had said something before about Plagg and Tikki being the least suspicious of him.  Probably because their combined magic was what created the Lazarus pits, the very reason he wasn’t still six feet under.  He finally noticed the small red and black box sitting on the chest of drawers, and he popped it open to find the earrings inside.  He wasted no time putting the studs in one ear, before a pink ball of light appeared in front of him. The ball of light turned into Tikki who gave a little stretch and yawn before being startled to see Jason instead of Marinette in front of her. “Hey Tikki, sorry, no time to explain but Marinette’s in trouble” he spluttered, “please I need your help, I wouldn’t be asking otherwise”.

“If that’s true, then there’s no time to waste, let’s go!” Tikki exclaimed, “Just say the words and I’ll help you.” Jason’s mind suddenly drew a blank, as he tried to remember what words Marinette used to transform into Ladybug.  

“Bug Prism Power Make Up?” he tried.

“He doesn’t know the magic words?” Plagg asked slyly, “our Guardian’s life is on the line and he doesn’t know the magic words”.

“I know that you’d make a nice chew toy for Brutus”, Jason snapped as he tried to think.  “Go go Lucky Charm?” he tried, Tikki shook her head.

“Lucky charm usually comes a bit later” she rubbed the back of her head, “keep trying, if Marinette is in trouble, then she needs our help”. 

“Okay let me think, uh…It’s Magic Time? Ladybug Up? In brightest day, in blackest night...?” He kept throwing out suggestions, but Tikki continued to shake her head.  “Uh, Shazam?” he had to give that one a try at least once, Tikki sighed.

Tikki thought it was admirable watching him at least trying to figure it out, even if Plagg was no help at that moment.  It was clear to the little Kwami, she didn’t need to look that hard to know that this boy cared deeply for Marinette, even if he was hesitant to admit it at first.  Tikki remembered gently encouraging Marinette to confess her feelings towards him, while Roy and Jason’s brothers took a more…direct approach.  

“All right Jason, I’ll tell you the magic words but first,” Tikki told him and they both heard the Kwami’s stomach growl, breaking the awkward silence in the room.  Jason remembered why Marinette usually kept a cookie on hand whenever she brought Tikki along, while the faint smell of cheese usually meant Plagg was in tow instead.  

“Come on, let’s go get you a cookie” Jason said, “and some cheese for you” he shot Plagg a slightly irritated look.  As Jason looked around the kitchen, the only cookies and cheese they had were the cheap stuff.  Tikki tried to be polite about the fact that the oreo wasn’t going to cut it, Plagg just turned up his little cat nose at the processed American cheese. “Sorry Tikki, Marinette’s been a bit busy lately,” he told her before rounding on Plagg “what’s your problem?”

“You don’t happen to have any camembert, do you?” he asked, still refusing to even look at the slice of processed cheese.

“Camembert? Who was your last user?” Jason asked incredulously.  Desperate times were calling for even more desperate measures, “just hang in there Marinette,” he thought.

Jason wouldn’t be racing over to Wayne Manor if it wasn’t a dire emergency. Tikki was safely tucked away in his jacket pocket, while Plagg was clinging to the hem of his jacket as it billowed behind him.  Jason brought his motorbike to a stop just outside the gates, before hopping off darting past Damian, petting a sleeping Alfred the cat in his lap.  Right now, he was hoping Alfred the human was baking something that would catch the Kwami’s eye.  Sadly, he was not, a note on the kitchen door explained he wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.  Sadly, this couldn’t wait until tomorrow.  He opened the kitchen door, the cookies from Alfred’s last batch were stored in a cookie jar on top of the fridge.  There was one cookie left, he unzipped his pocket and gestured to the cookie in the jar.  Jason reached up and grabbed the jar, before opening it and grabbing the cookie inside.  He also reached into the fridge and grabbed the camembert for Plagg.  With the Kwami munching on their snacks of choice, he dashed out of the kitchen. Plagg had practically inhaled the wheel of cheese all at once, and glided alongside him. Meanwhile, Tikki clung to the cookie with one hand and the hem of Jason’s pocket with the other. 

That morning, Bruce was not expecting to see Jason rushing past him.  He wasn’t expecting to see a half-eaten chocolate chip cookie threatening to fly out of his jacket pocket.  “Hi, can’t talk now, Marinette needs help, bye.” He called before disappearing down the hallway. Jason dashed past Dick who had just woken up, and Tim was on his way to the kitchen for some more coffee. 

“Was that the last cookie?” Dick asked, slightly groggily.

“Oh that had better not be the last cookie” Tim groaned, someone had better be dying if that was the case.

Jason rushed to his motorcycle, and slammed the gate shut behind him before hopping on and putting on his helmet. Tikki was halfway through munching on the cookie, when she gave him a quick rundown of the powers that she would be giving him.  Jason knew that the Miraculous granted the user enhanced speed, strength and endurance, he just hadn’t thought there would come a day when he would have to use their power.  It was probably for the best that their guardian didn’t choose him when he was 13, for reasons that a bunch of guards were about to find out very soon.

Meanwhile, Marinette found herself in a cage inside a warehouse.  There were two men guarding the cage, neither of them knew that Marinette was the girl in the black leather catsuit. They caught her just as the clock had run out on her powers, and they assumed she was one of the kids that had been captured.  She was a petite young woman, and they found her dressed in a polka dotted hoodie, shorts and tights.  She sent Plagg to go get help, and he had been gone for a few hours now.  She was getting increasingly antsy,  Jason was probably worried sick about her.  

Jason arrived at the suspected gang hideout as fast as could, leapt off his bike and grappled to a vantage point. “Ok, relatively small time trafficking racket. Now where is Pixie Pop?” Jason thought to himself, scanning the area from his vantage point. “Plagg, go find Marinette, and tell her to not transform until I arrive.”  Plagg flew out of Jason’s pocket and made his way there.  “Alright Tikki, what's the magic word?” The Kwami flew out of Jason’s pocket as he spoke, Tikki glided to Jason’s ear and whispered to him the phrase. Jason repeated “Spots On” and felt power coursing through his veins. It felt like Venom without the addictive or berserk tendencies, pure energy was flowing through him. He felt the uncontrollable urge to pose and move with the flow of energy, doing a flourish of kicks and punches.  It ended with him raising his left leg to his head, as if it was a vertical split and slamming it down. “Owwwwwwwwwwww” Jason groaned, “My thighs were not meant to do that.” He was not expecting the compulsive flourishes for the transformation itself.

Jason looked at his reflection in a nearby puddle, he could see he was wearing a full spotted suit and domino mask like Ladybug, yet his leather jacket stayed during the transformation and received its own ladybug pattern. Jason sucked up the pain and pushed onwards to the gang hideout.

Jason snuck in through a vent and approached a large main room, housing most if not all of the guards and their “merchandise” with cages strewn across the room with mostly women and children locked up. He finally sees Marinette, alive but imprisoned in a cage with a few other people in a corner. Jason needed a distraction so that Marinette could transform into Lady Noire. He had to do something to take the attention off every single person in the room. 

Jason sighed and thought of a plan, it may not be the most flattering, but it worked and it would not be so threatening as cutting out the lights. He burst from the air vents and landed in a crouch, standing straight and shouting “Halt Evildoers, it I...Red Bug?” 

This indeed worked as planned, as every guard, goon and hostage set their eyes on the intruder.  The guards began pointing and laughing, “Good, they don't think I’m a threat” thought Jason. The guards underestimating Red Bug was what he needed, so that they would not find him threatening or harm anyone just yet. 

Marinette took this opportunity to transform into Lady Noire. She wasted no time and began with Cataclysm, bringing down all the cages and making her way to Jason’s position. Both Lady Noire and Red Bug began fighting the guards, buying the hostages time to make their escape. As the last person successfully escaped the gang hideout, both Lady Noire and Red Bug stood side by side.  More of them began to trickle in as they heard the commotion and began to surround the pair.

Marinette needed to think fast, she didn't have much time left after casting Cataclysm. She said to her partner, “Lucky Charm, Now!” Red Bug raised his eyebrow, “Lucky Charm?” he repeated. He suddenly felt the same compulsion as he did during the transformation, his arm suddenly shot upward with the yo-yo spinning. He looked up to see a swarm of ladybugs converge to form...a purse? Red Bug caught the purse with a look of disbelief, Lady Noire looked around the room for a plan to use the purse. Lady Noire got a burst of inspiration and turned around to tell her partner of her cunning plan, only to be greeted by thin air. She was brought out of her stupor hearing her partner yell out “LIGHTS OUT BITCH!”.  She whipped her head towards the source of the noise to see Red Bug beating the guards with the Ladybug-themed purse.  “I guess that works too” she said to nobody in particular. Knowing she had little time remaining as Lady Noire, she started running for the exit. Red Bug had no issue dealing with the remaining goons. Marinette hadn’t expected Jason to suit up with one of the Miraculous, not that she was complaining.  She had expected him to come charging in as the Red Hood, or maybe start by picking off the guards one-by-one.  She was surprised, but it wasn’t an unpleasant one, mostly.  Since leaving Chat Noir behind in Paris, the fight left her feeling oddly nostalgic.  Sometimes she missed fighting alongside a Miraculous user, though Tikki might have something to say about his...unusual use of a Lucky Charm.  She walked over to Jason’s parked motorcycle and waited. Within minutes Jason followed suit and walked out the front door of the hideout.  A swirl of green light surrounded him as he changed back, and Tikki zoomed over towards Marinette.  Tikki nuzzled against Marinette’s face for a moment, before Jason walked towards her.  He pulled his girlfriend into a big hug,  Marinette is left breathless for a moment as he nuzzles into her neck.   He didn’t say anything, but neither of them really needed to say anything at that moment. Touched by how much Jason cared for her, Marinette returned the hug. She stayed in that warm embrace for a long moment, before reaching up and gently patting him on the head.  “Let’s go home...Pixie Pop.” Jason pulled away at the mention of the nickname he gave her, and before she could react, Jason began pinching her cheeks. “What did you call me?” Jason jokingly interrogated, while Marinette giggled like an idiot. EXTRA: Jason is sitting next to Dick and Damian in the Wayne manor lounge with two ice packs on his thighs Jason:  I don’t know how you do it Dickie, my thighs were not meant to do that. Dick (covers Damian’s ears): Soooo did you and Marinette…. Jason:  I literally beat up some guys with a purse today, don’t push me.

[blazingparker]

I Could Be Your Love, But You Treat Me Like A Scandal

Chapter Seven is now up!

read it on ao3!

---

Tony woke to his blankets being pulled at, the warm weight in his arms shuffling around and jostling him far too much for his liking. Grumbling softly, he tightened his grip and pulled the squirming figure closer, smiling lazily when a soft laugh rang out in his bedroom.

“Tony, I have to go,” Peter whispered, and Tony cracked an eye open to look down at him. The sight he was met with was glorious - big brown doe eyes and tousled brown hair that looked like it might just be the softest thing on the planet.

“I’ll call Jameson, you’re not going anywhere,” Tony grumbled, pulling Peter closer.

After their rather...physical make-up, Peter had called Jameson to say he wasn’t feeling well and would work remotely for the rest of the day. Instead of actually doing that, though, he’d fallen into bed with Tony and hadn’t left it again.

“I think I’d rather have him walk in on us than have you call him to explain why I’m not going to be at work,” Peter said with another laugh. Tony’s face screwed up in disgust and he rolled Peter out of his arms, ignoring the indignant squawk the other man let out.

“That’s it, moment over. It’s done. You’ve ruined it,” he deadpanned, grabbing at the covers and dragging them over to his side. Surprisingly strong, Peter pulled them back so they were even and leaned in to give Tony a kiss on the cheek.

“I’m sorry, my dear,” he murmured, somewhat shy at using the pet name. Tony beamed at him, feeling his heart skip a beat at the verbal acknowledgement from the journalist that there was something between them, something special and romantic and deep that neither of them could explain but that both of them felt.

“Do you really have to go?” Tony asked, pouting ever so slightly. “Let’s make breakfast at the very least. I bet your commute to work is shorter from here, and it’s only-” Tony glanced at his phone. “-seven in the morning. We have plenty of time.”

“Hmm,” Peter hummed thoughtfully, tapping a finger against his chin. “Do you cook shirtless? That’s the Parker rule, you know. Shirtless cooking or I don’t stay for breakfast.”

“I think that could be arranged.”

---

After each of them had showered and dressed, the pair entered the kitchen together. Peter was borrowing one of Tony’s blazers to try and help hide the fact he was wearing yesterday’s clothes, which had somehow made their way into the laundry and were clean and fresh when he found them that morning. Tony had kept his promise, slipping on a pair of gray sweatpants and forgoing a shirt. Neither one was complaining about the view.

“So, what’s for breakfast, Chef Tony?” Peter asked as he perched gingerly on a bar stool at the kitchen island. Tony turned from where he was poking through the contents of his fridge, raising an eyebrow.

“What makes you think I’m cooking?” Tony snarked, and Peter fixed him with an unimpressed look.

“You railed my ass six ways from Sunday yesterday. I’m going to rest and you’re going to make me whatever it is you normally have for breakfast around here. It’s the least you can do, honestly.” Peter sniffed in mock arrogance, but cracked a smile as soon as he heard Tony’s laughter echoing through the kitchen.

“You’ve got a point, Parker. Prepare to be amazed by my omelettes.” Tony turned and grabbed a whole carton of eggs, as well as some cheese and a few fresh tomatoes. Peter watched, enraptured, as the man skillfully and quickly sliced the tomato and grated some of the cheese before preparing the frying pan. Cracking a few eggs into it, Tony hummed softly as he started making the first omelette.

Peter didn’t want to bring up the elephant in the room, but he knew he had to. Too much had happened yesterday for the two of them to just carry on ignoring each other and then releasing all the pent-up frustration in a sex marathon in the middle of Peter’s work day.

“So, what do we do now?” He asked softly, fiddling with the sleeve of Tony’s blazer. “I mean, we can’t exactly be public. At least not until we figure out the outcome of the race.” Tony sighed, shaking his head.

“As much as I’d love to argue that, you’re right. I won’t do anything to put your career in jeopardy.”

“Thank you,” Peter said sincerely. “I mean that. Not that I think you would, but you have enough ammunition now to totally wreck my life. I appreciate you telling me that you, y’know, won’t do that.” Tony laughed, but it was a much softer and diluted sound than before.

“I think our best bet is to keep this a secret for now, and revisit this conversation after the election. Once we know who won, we can make a plan. For now, there’s no use planning when it could all go to shit.” Peter nodded, agreeing with everything the billionaire was saying. “Your career and your integrity comes first.”

“Thank you,” Peter repeated. “You also need to keep your image as one of America’s most eligible bachelors - that’s definitely winning you some women’s votes. Maybe some men’s votes, too.”

“On that note,” Tony started, whirling around and pointing the spatula at the reporter in a way Peter thought was supposed to look threatening. “You’d better not go changing your tune now that you’ve had the absolute pleasure-”

“Oh my god.”

“-of sleeping with me. Got it? I won’t have Peter Parker changing his opinions just cause he thinks my dick is great.”

Groaning, Peter put his head in his hands. Tony laughed once more, turning back around and continuing to make the omelettes. Once both were made, the two men sat side-by-side and dug into their food.

“This is incredible, Tony. Seriously. First the hot chocolate and now this?” Peter said after swallowing his first bite, eagerly cutting himself another piece.

“I’m Tony Stark. I’m the best at everything I do,” Tony said with a shrug, a playful glint in his eyes.

“Except not fucking the people covering your campaign.”

“Touché.”

After breakfast, Tony insisted on walking Peter to the door like “a real gentleman,” since he obviously couldn’t accompany him down to the lobby and out to the street. That would raise far too much suspicion - Peter was already going to be hard-pressed to keep himself from being seen or recognized as it was. Add Tony Stark into the equation, and it was game over.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at the voter town hall,” Peter murmured as he leaned up and gave Tony a soft kiss. “I promise not to be nice about you in the paper.”

“The cornerstone of any healthy relationship: destroying your significant other in a national newspaper,” Tony deadpanned, delighting in the laugh he got out of Peter. “I’ll see you then.”

Peter leaned in, pressing a sweet kiss to Tony’s lips and lifting a hand to cup his cheek. Tony wrapped his arms around the shorter man and tugged him closer, almost lifting him off his feet before gently letting go.

“See you later, Tony.”

“Bye, Peter.” The two shared a soft smile, gazing into each other’s eyes until the elevator doors closed between them.

---

The next week passed by in a blur - of campaign events, shaking hands, press conferences, stolen kisses in the moments no one was around, and the two men sharing a bed on more than one occasion.

Peter could hardly believe it was just a week until the election. Even more so, he couldn’t believe he was writing his last feature on Tony’s Senate campaign. The media had agreed on halting any opinion or feature on any of the candidates in the week leading up to the election, giving voters a chance to do their research without scandalous headlines that the candidates had no time or chance to respond to.

Staring at his computer, Peter found himself struggling with what to write - a problem that hadn’t popped up as long as he’d been covering Tony. First, the words came easy, laced with disdain for a man clearly out of touch with the voters. Then, praise for his improvements came mixed with continuing critiques of his shortcomings. Now, he didn’t know quite how to wrap everything up.

Tony had come a long ways, sure, but Peter had his doubts about whether it would be enough to win him the seat. He’d entered too late, had too little time to connect with voters and get his message out there, and had fumbled through the first week - valuable time lost to stutters and deflections when he could have been already establishing strength and credibility.

It was with that realization of doubt that Peter found his headline.

Too Soon For Stark.

Short, sweet, and to the point. Tony had done a great job creating a platform, running a campaign, and connecting with the people of New York. But he had a timing problem, something that could only be fixed by running for Senate properly in the future. Peter began to write all of those thoughts, emphasizing it wasn’t that he didn’t think Tony was completely in over his head, but rather that it was a good idea at the wrong time.

Tony Stark started his campaign by blatantly flirting with any reporter that dared ask him a serious question. Six weeks later, he’s proven to be a formidable opponent for the Democrat and Republican nominees, with poll numbers steadily creeping upwards and increasing numbers at his events.

What Stark suffers from is a lack of preparation and a lack of time. With a properly-run Senate campaign, he might stand a chance when the next seat is up for grabs. However, combine barely a month and a half to put everything together with the fact that Stark’s name won’t even appear on the ballots New Yorkers receive next week, and the recipe for loss seems clear.

Peter continued to work on the article, the endeavor taking up his entire morning. When it was finally ready to be published around lunch, Jameson strode over to his desk.

“How’s that last article coming?” He asked, perching on the edge of Peter’s desk like he always did. Wordlessly, the journalist turned the monitor so his boss could read it for himself, relaxing slightly in his chair as Jameson nodded along and muttered words of agreement under his breath.

“Looks great. Let’s get that up on the website now, and then I want you to head on over to Stark Industries with Ned for the last press conference he’s doing. I want to get a review of it out online before the embargo sets in.”

“Sounds good,” Peter agreed with a nod, waiting for Jameson to walk away before turning his monitor around to face him again and publishing the article to the website. It immediately started to garner attention, and he felt a flash of pride as he watched his article, his words, get picked up and shared by people from around the world.

“Ready to head out?” Peter looked up to see Ned eagerly waiting to leave, camera firmly in hand.

“Let’s do it,” he said, grinning back at his friend and grabbing his bag before heading for the doors.

---

When they arrived at Stark Industries, Peter and Ned were instructed to head to the room they’d been using for all the press conferences and for giving statements. A fair amount of the press pool was already there, setting up cameras and recording devices in preparation for the event. Ned and Peter went to their usual spot in one of the middle rows, towards the right of the room. It was a great angle for Ned’s photos, and allowed for Tony to make eye contact with Peter quite frequently under the guise of sweeping his gaze across the room.

“I can’t believe this is the last press conference we’re doing together,” Ned remarked as he fiddled with his camera. Peter shrugged, taking out his phone and opening up Twitter.

“It won’t be the last one, bud. Maybe the last one here, but I’m sure Jameson will have us suiting up and heading out together again sooner rather than later.”

“I hope so. I love getting out of the office and getting to take real pictures. Betty over in HR said she really liked the one I got of Stark laughing with the kid.”

“That’s awesome, dude!” Peter said, looking up from his phone to smile at his friend. Ned had had a huge crush on Betty for the longest time, so he was thrilled to hear his friend was making some progress.

“Thanks. It was a pretty big confidence boost,” Ned bragged. Peter snorted and looked back down, heart stopping as he read what was rapidly becoming the number one trending item in the world.

EXPOSED: Stark Hooking Up With Pulitzer Parker?

The headline was accompanied by a picture that made it all too obvious what was going on. Tony and Peter were headed for the elevator, Tony’s hand on his ass and their lips mere inches apart. Against his better judgment, Peter clicked the link and began to read.

Peter Parker, darling of the New York Times and youngest-ever Pulitzer prize winner, was seen recently making out with Tony Stark. A source provided us with these photos, as well as some of Parker leaving Stark Industries the next morning. The two haven’t been photographed together since then. It’s safe to say journalistic integrity is officially dead, and here’s the proof.

Parker published a scathing critique of Stark’s campaign a mere hour ago, which has us wondering: is he legit, or did Stark just never give him a call back?

Phones began chiming all over the room, each sound feeling like the nail in the coffin of Peter’s career. He began to tremble, shoving his phone into his pocket before he dropped it from shaky hands.

“Oh my god,” Ned echoed, staring at the news alert on his own phone.

“I have to get out of here,” Peter blurted out. He was suffocating - everyone was too close, the walls were closing in. He could practically hear Jameson firing him, screaming at him in front of the whole office. Tony wouldn’t want to see him - his Senate campaign was fucked. All because of Peter.

The journalist stood up from his seat and bolted out of the room.

---

Two floors up, Tony’s phone began chiming with the rest of the press pool, though he didn’t know it. His face paled and he began to shake with rage as he took in the headline and the photo. 

“Fuck!” Tony yelled, standing up from his desk and running to the elevator. He had to see Peter. When the elevator didn’t arrive quite fast enough, he made a beeline for the stairs, throwing the door open and rushing down them as fast as he could. He knew Peter was likely in the building already, and would be seeing this along with everyone else. Tony had to get to him before anything bad happened, before accusations were hurled around and the poor journalist found himself at the center of a media frenzy.

Part of Tony wondered if he was going to be too late anyway, but he knew he had to try.

Once he reached the correct floor, he flung the door open and ran to the press room. As soon as he entered, cameras started flashing and people started screaming questions at him.

“Mr. Stark, is it true you had an affair with Peter Parker?”

“Does he have valid concerns about you, or is he bitter that you ghosted him?”

“Is Parker good in bed?”

Tony ignored all the questions, looking around the room frantically for Peter. His eyes finally found the boy Peter always came with, who subtly shook his head.

Peter was gone.

Rushing out of the room, Tony ran down to the lobby as fast as he could. His heart skipped a beat when he saw a familiar figure rushing for the doors.

“Peter!” He yelled out, ignoring the few people who were present in the room. Peter skidded to a stop, looking back. Tony’s heart broke a little more when he saw the tears streaming down his face.

“Did you have a good time playing me again?” Peter asked, voice hoarse as he turned to face Tony. “Was it fun, playing with my emotions and making me look like an emotional idiot to the entire world?”

“What are you talking about?” Tony asked, taking a few steps to get closer.

“I know you leaked the pictures. Come on. I publish my last article about you, critiquing your run and saying you’re going to lose, and then magically photos of the two of us come to light that make everyone question whether or not I’m legitimate?” Tony winced. It did look bad.

“I know it looks like I leaked that, but I swear to you that I didn’t,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Peter. I know how important your career is, and I haven’t forgotten the talk we had.”

Peter blinked, looking like he wanted to believe him but unsure if he could. Tony couldn’t blame him - the evidence was damning and stacked against him.

“Swear to me. Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t do this,” he said, tone almost pleading. Tony gazed directly into Peter’s eyes, never breaking eye contact.

“Peter, I swear to you on my life that I had nothing to do with that article. I’m so sorry this is happening,” he said sincerely, voice never wavering. Peter sniffled, taking a few steps closer and allowing Tony to pull him into a hug. The contact was brief and had barely begun when the younger man pulled away again.

“I have to go,” he whispered.

“What? No. Stay,” Tony pleaded, grabbing onto his hands.

“I can’t. I have to go talk with Jameson, and you need me to stay far, far away from you if you want to have any chance of salvaging the campaign.” Peter looked down at his shoes.

“Fuck the campaign,” Tony said immediately. “Just-just stay. Please.” His heart cracked open a little more when Peter shook his head and pulled away, just out of reach.

“I can’t, Tony. This has to end if we’re both going to come out on the other side of this with minimal damage. I can’t be with you and fix my reputation.”

“Why can’t you?” Tony argued. “That’s what people in relationships do. They tackle problems together. We can handle this. Let me help you. Peter, please.”

Peter stood still, glancing backwards at the doors. When he looked back, he found Tony holding out an outstretched hand.

The journalist knew he had two choices. He could take the hand, accept Tony’s help, and try to fix everything with the man who’d helped him break it in the first place. Or, he could pull away, fix it on his own and allow Tony to salvage his campaign, but potentially lose the man who’d finally made him feel something.

In that moment, Peter didn’t know what to choose.

[heartbreakgrill]

hi bb! could I get a cute zach x reader fic? you can take this in whichever way you like but I was thinking some fluff like a movie night at Zach's or he teaches the reader to play video games? you can do it either way/come up with something of your own too! xxx

Slow Down; Zach Herron

a/n: hope you like it, queen!! 💘

You knocked gently on your boyfriend’s front door, feeling insecure in your leggings, your sweatshirt, and sneakers. You’d been to the boy’s house before, but this was still only your second time, and you’d never dressed so casually in front of Zach. Your relationship was still fresh- only 8 dates had happened so far- so you were still holding back parts of yourself you were afraid of him seeing. The lazy, messy part of you that some guys were turned off by.

You wrung the sleeve of your sweatshirt between your fingers. The door opened a moment after you knocked, drawing your eyes from your feet. Jonah, tall as a tree, stared down at you, a sleepy smile growing to his dark features.

“Hey, Y/N, good to see you.” Jonah swept an arm through the air and you walked into it’s path.

The house was noisy, as per usual. Lights were on all over, Corbyn and Jack were shouting over the shooting noises of a video game on the tv, music was streaming from the Bluetooth speakers, Tessa sat at the kitchen island. Daniel was probably out in his studio, and his brothers were strewn around the living room, watching Corbyn and Jack beat each other.

You felt so out of place in the group’s familiar Friday routine. Jonah could tell, harboring the same feeling of social anxiety, and gently touched your elbow.

“I’ll go get him, okay?” You’d been in Zach’s room, he must’ve not have been in there, because Jonah walked outside after you nodded.

You busied yourself with removing your sneakers. You squatted and gently set them beside somebody else’s shoes on the rack. You peaked around at the door and shut it all the way. Somebody finally spoke up when you turned back around.

“Oh, hey, Y/N! Come sit,” Corbyn patted the spot next to him on the couch.

“Shit, sorry, we just completely ignored your existence,” Jack added on, laughing into his headset.

“No worries,” you smiled at everybody, carefully stepping over Christian’s legs to sit next to Corbyn.

“How ya doing, Y/N?” Corbyn glanced at you.

You folded your hands. “I’m okay, thanks. How are you?”

Corbyn went to answer when something happened in the video game and everybody yelled. That’s when you noticed Zach making his way across the room. He pushed Christian’s legs out of the way, earning a playful punch to the thigh. You stood up as he did, giggling at the laughter the two boys exchanged.

Zach threw his arms up when he laughed, one of his cutesy quirks that you had learned yet. His hands landed on you- shoulder and hip. He gently pulled you into his chest, your hands moving to his back.

“Hey,” he laughed in your ear, fingers moving to your back, but landing on your mini backpack.

“Hi,” you leaned away. His fingers slid down your shoulder and gently held your fingers.

He tugged you behind him, guiding the two of you to his room. “Sorry I didn’t answer the door. Daniel was having me record something.”

You shrugged, “No worries. I got a warm welcome from everybody.”

Zach sighed, letting go of you to shut the door. You sat on the edge of his bed. He said, “Yeah, they can be overwhelming at first.”

“No!” You disagreed. “They’re all really great. I like the energy.”

Zach smiled at you as he walked over to you. “You look very cuddly.”

Your anxiety settled in your subconscious, no longer a part of your worries. Instead, a blush painted your face. “We have never cuddled before.”

Zach sat beside you, setting a hand on your knee. “We don’t have to.”

“No, I want to,” you assured him, grabbing said hand and squeezing the knuckles. “I know you’re probably used to moving a little faster, but I’m just nervous. I’m sorry.”

Zach shook his head, carefully studying your eyes. He brushed the hair from your face, behind your ears, “I think I need to slow down anyways. With my career and looking back on my past relationships, I think it’ll keep me grounded. You’ll keep me grounded.”

Your stomach whirled with adoration. You found yourself leaning forward and kissing him. It wasn’t your first kiss- actually, it was your second. But it felt like the first. You hoped that feeling would stay.

Zach cupped your cheek, thumb just barely pushing your chin up into him. Your hands found his jaw, fingers molding between his hair. You kissed for a moment longer, and intended to keep going, but someone knocked at the door.

You jumped back from Zach, laughing from your naive fright at the sound. Zach pecked your lips and went to the door.

“Hello?” He opened it towards him, leaning against the door frame.

That was hot.

Jack waved from his side of the door. “Can y’all go pick up the pizza?”

Zach rolled his eyes, huffing. “Really? There’s, like, 10 other people here. Why can’t they?”

“Thought maybe you wanted alone time with your girl,” Jack shrugged. “Also, Jonah and Tessa just left, Daniel is busy, the rest of us are playing a game. Please?”

Zach obviously wasn’t going to argue with his band mate in front of his girl, as jack had put it. So he agreed.

Zach went to the closet as you waited on the bed, picking out a hoodie. He slung it over his head and sat beside you again to put on his shoes. As he did, you told him about something you did earlier that day. He was a good listener and conversation came so well between you two.

Zach stood up, offering you his hand. He pulled you up, purposefully tugging you close to his chest. He held you by the back and kissed you again. You giggled into his mouth, feeling his fingers squirm against your sweatshirt. He pulled away, to your disappointment, and looked at your sweatshirt with furrowed brows.

“No, this won’t do,” he tugged at the hem of your sweatshirt.

You looked at him with utter confusion, “Huh?”

He walked back to his closet, voice echoing from inside. “If you’re gonna be my girl, you gotta wear my sweatshirt.”

He settled back in front of you, holding out the hoodie.

You carefully grabbed it. “Is that you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

Zach tipped his head at the sweatshirt, “Is that you saying yes?”

You answered by taking off what you had on and replacing it with a hoodie that the The Invitation Tour logo on it. You followed Zach out the living room again and sat down on the floor to put on your sneakers while he found his keys. He helped you off the floor, like in his room, and led you to the garage.

He opened your door for you like a gentleman, passing by with a sweet kiss. You let out a deep breath once you were settled in the seat, feeling a weight of emotions in your stomach.

Zach got in and then you guys were gone. The pizza place was ten minutes away, but they didn’t offer delivery because of COVID. And, of course, you forgot your mask. Zach just shrugged it off while you felt bad he carried two pizzas and a bag of 2 liters to the car. He put it all in the back seat before joining you again.

On the way back, Zach told you to put on music. Meanwhile, his hand sneakily found it’s way to your knee. He didn’t want to automatically place it upon your thigh, genuinely meaning what he had said earlier.

You wrapped your hand around his, letting your intertwined fingers rest in your lap. When you got back to the house, Zach didn’t allow you to carry anything again. As soon as the pizzas hit the kitchen counter, the boys went ravenous. Even Daniel appeared from his cave to get food.

You stood off to the side, feeling rude just diving in. Corbyn noticed you and automatically spoke up over the crowd of men.

“Hey! Guys, we should probably let Y/N go first,” he motioned to you.

Your face flushed and you felt your neck started to clam up. “Oh, I’m okay.”

Zach, who was caught up getting cups for everyone, sighed. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told them to wait.”

“No, it’s no worries, guys. Please, go ahead,” you insisted again.

Daniel shook his head and handed you a plate, “No, Y/N, go ahead.”

You carefully took it and joined the hoard at the island. You took a single slice of cheese pizza and circled back to your spot.

Christian disagreed with your sad plate, “Oh, cmon. Get another slice, and some chips and a drink.”

You began to protest when they all spoke over each other, insisting. Daniel slapped another slice onto your plate, Corbyn held up two bags of chips in your face, and Zach had already poured your favorite soda into a glass. You tapped on the Dorito’s in Corbyn’s right hand and he poured some on your plate.

You had a restless, wide grin on your face the entire time. “Thank you so much.”

Everybody went back to being savages. Zach quickly got in and got out, leading you back to his room. He crawled across the bed and leaned back on his headboard. You carefully sat beside him as he turned on the television.

“You wanna watch that movie you told me about the other day?” He held out the remote to you.

Your mouth fell agape for a moment and then you nodded. “Yeah- uh, yeah.”

How was he such a good listener?

You found the movie on Netflix and put it on. Zach finished his food quickly, but you ate carefully and slowly. Zach simply layed out on the bed, waiting for you to finish. Once you were done, you stood up from the bed.

Zach paused the movie, “You good?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Wanna give me your plate?” You held out your hand.

Zach jumped up suddenly, grabbing his plate and yours before walking out.. You caught up to his long-legged strides with protests.

“Zach!” You called after him, tugging on the back of his sweatshirt.

He finally turned around after he set everything in the sink. “Yes?”

You tried to glare at him, but his smile was so sweet, you broke into a grin. “I was gonna take them!”

Zach shrugged. “I got it, babe.”

You lifted a finger to point in his face, but froze when the pet name registered. Your face went red again.

Zach’s innocent smile turned even cheekier- if possible. He kissed your cheek and left you standing there. You followed him to his room, stopping him in the middle of the hallway. You tugged him around to face him, practically launching yourself into his arms as you cupped his jaw and kissed him. He held the curve of your back, leaning into the kiss.

You broke off, breathless, with matching smiles. “Wanna finish the movie?” You jerked your head in the direction of his room.

Zach nodded in a less than calm manner and followed you inside. He shut the door, splaying back in his spot on the bed. You carefully lay beside him, resting your head on his bicep, which he extended out beside him. His hand clasped around your shoulder and tugged you into his side. You got comfortable over the span of a few minutes, at first slightly stiff. When you were in position, your leg was tossed over his, your hands on his chest.

The movie ended and you began another before your breathing evened and your eyes couldn’t keep themselves open. Zach noticed and carefully shut off the lights and tv with the remote. He pulled the blanket at the end of the bed over you.

“Want me to take you home?” He whispered into your ear.

You hummed a disagreement back, curling further into him. “Is that okay?” You sleepily said.

Zach responded by kissing your forehead and mumbling a goodnight.

[lifeofkaze]

A Very Hexley Birthday

A/N: Seeing all those beautiful edits on my dash for the birthday of my favourite twins in the Potterverse (I said what I said), I knew I couldn't possibly do any better. So instead, let's have a look what Ethel and Jim are up to on their birthday, shall we?

This is for you, Bestie! @the-al-chemist

Happy Birthday, Jim and Ethel! 💛❤️

Naturally, Ethel and Jim Hexley and Héloïse Perrault belong to my favourite person in this world @the-al-chemist. The attending guests belong to @slytherindisaster (Lysander Mercury), @kc-and-oc (Siobhan Llewellyn, Bradford Pendleton, Oliver and Eliot Gerard, Ivy Anders), @hogwartsmysteryho (Vinny Raymond), @that-scouse-wizard (Cledwyn Ironwood), @cursebreakerfarrier (Galen Stagg), and @unfortunate-arrow (Anthony Rosen).

Even though the golden arrows of the September sun were showing themselves on the enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Jeremiah Hexley was in a rather glum mood when he reached for the huge bowl of porridge at the Hufflepuff House table.

It was just out of his reach and his fingertips only grazed the rim; he simply would have needed to stand up to get it, but that would only draw attention to the tall, lankish boy, which was something he generally tried to avoid, but especially so today. So Jim sat straight again and reached for a slice of toast instead.

“I wish you the finest of mornings,” he heard a voice call out to him, “isn’t it a wonderful day outside? You should have seen the colours of the sunrise; no one can paint anything as beautiful as that.”

The voice belonged to Lysander Mercury, another Hufflepuff boy from his year, and undoubtedly Jim’s best friend. He had a spring in his step as he walked up to Jim, and his thumbs were hooked under the straps of his suspenders; he hadn’t bothered putting the black jumper of their school uniform over them yet.

He sat down opposite Jim with a graceful motion, grabbing the porridge bowl in the same instance and pushing it over to Jim. Giving Lysander a grateful look, Jim helped himself to a healthy portion and drizzled a teaspoon full of dark golden honey on top, just the way he liked it. But even the prospect of his favourite breakfast wasn’t enough to lighten Jim’s mood, and it wasn’t lost on Lysander.

“Why such a long face, old fellow?” he grinned, and his stress on the word ‘old’ wasn’t lost on Jim, quite the contrary. “It’s not a day to be brooding!”

Jim opened his mouth to explain himself, but was interrupted by the sound of quick footsteps approaching from behind him; a moment later two pairs of arms were flung around his neck and Jim almost knocked over his bowl of porridge in his attempt to not be thrown off the bench.

“Happy Birthday, Jim!” two girls shouted into his ears in perfect unison, of course they did. The sound of their excitement cut through Jim’s eardrums and he winced as he pushed them away.

“Uhm, thank you,” he muttered, “Happy Birthday to you as well,” he said in the direction of the smaller of the two.

Ethel Hexley, his twin sister and complete opposite and in every aspect imaginable, grinned and clapped Jim on his back so hard he almost lurched forward. “Thanks, kiddo. One more year of making sure my little brother has at least some fun in his life.”

“Like a proper big sister should,” her best friend Selene Fraser added with a knowing nod. Not even the Sorting Hat had been able to separate these two, and sometimes Jim wondered who out of them three actually were the twin siblings.

“But, er, you know Effy’s only older by a few minutes... so she isn’t really my big sister, if you want to put it that way…”

Jim trailed off when he saw something whisk past him into the direction of the porridge bowl. Before he had the chance to dive straight into it though, Lysander had already gotten hold of the brown and white ferret Ethel and Selene shared custody of; Alan’s nose twitched as Lysander held him out to Ethel.

“Take your ferret back, Hexley,” he said, “I’d say you two are looking like the actual twins here, but seeing as it’s unfortunately your birthday as well, I’ll let it pass. Consider this my present.”

“Seeing as Alan definitely is the best looking guy I’ve spoken to today, I’ll take that as a compliment, Mercury,” Ethel immediately shot back, with that unmistakable glint in her eyes that Jim knew promised nothing but bother, very wordy bother.

Lysander had already leaned slightly forward as well, his eyes fixed on Jim’s twin sister, ready for their morning round of bickering and Jim sighed.

“Could you two, uhm… maybe, just maybe… perhaps stop it? Just for today?”

“Leave him, Effy, he’s not worth it. Not a match for you anyway,” Selene muttered to her best friend; Jim gave her a grateful look.

“True, Sels, I won’t have my birthday spoiled by a wanna-be artist in suspenders,” Ethel said indignantly, and Lysander opened his mouth in protest. Selene elbowed Ethel into the side, before setting Alan onto her shoulder and linking arms with her, quickly pulling her away before things would escalate. Again.

Selene turned around after a few steps and called over her shoulder. “Come to the Quidditch pitch after classes, Jim, will you? We have a little surprise for you!”

*

Throughout the whole day, Jim wasn’t sure what made him more uncomfortable: all the attention he got because it was his birthday, or the prospect of a surprise set up for him by Ethel and Selene. The sheer idea of everything these two could have been planning was enough to upset Jim’s stomach and he couldn’t even enjoy his favourite roast beef for lunch.

When their last class of the day was over, Jim reluctantly made his may over to the Quidditch pitch, as he had been told to. He had wanted to ask Lysander to come, but then again, bringing Ethel and Lysander into the same space was too much for him today; or any day, to be precise.

As soon as he stepped through the opening in the wooden perimeter of the pitch, he raised his eyebrows in surprise. Ethel and Selene had laid out several red and white chequered picnic blankets in the middle of the immaculate green lawn, just like the ones their parents had at home. He could see baskets full of sandwiches, little cakes, fruit and cheese on every single one of them, alongside countless jugs of pumpkin juice.

Naturally, Ethel and Selene were standing in the midst of the people already gathered there, laughing and joking and having a wonderful time, and Jim’s heart sank a little. He saw many familiar faces; he saw Siobhan Llewellyn and her best friend Galen Stagg, who were feeding slices of roast beef to a very content looking Alan; he saw Oliver Gerard who was laughing with Ethel about a lively story she was telling; he had brought his brother, Eliot, a Ravenclaw boy Jim didn’t really know, and who was looking very comfortable talking to Selene, who was standing next to Ivy Anders and Vinny Raymond were sharing some cake; he could even spy the eternally grumpy Cledwyn Ironwood, who never got tired of proclaiming he wasn’t Ethel’s friend but, just like Jim, had obviously stood no chance in declining the invitation.

All of these people were there, but all of them were Ethel’s friends, not his. Jim sighed; he knew Ethel and Selene had meant well, but they just didn’t understand him, they never really did.

“I ‘ope we aren’t late, non?”

Upon hearing the familiar French accent, Jim’s heart skipped a beat before beating doubly as fast as before. He turned around and his eyes went wide when he saw the group of people who had quietly come up behind him.

“Bon anniversaire, Jim!” Héloïse swept in and quickly kissed him on both cheeks in close succession, before pushing an immaculately wrapped gift into his hands, the edges of the paper sharp and the bow perfectly tied. Jim tried to thank her but his words came out as a horrible stutter and he felt the heat rise to his face; it felt particularly warm where Héloïse had kissed him.

Next up came his dear friend Bradford, who shared his enthusiasm for painting; he extended his hand to Jim to wish him a happy birthday as well, and the gift he was handing over to him felt suspiciously like the elaborate sketchbook Jim had seen on his last trip to Hogsmeade.

His roommate Anthony was there, too, as always accompanied by his wolfhound Conall. Jim bent down to pet the animal and scratch his ears. He had to smile when he saw how enthusiastic Conall was at the prospect of all the attention; at least one of them was, then.

Even Lysander had been invited, or had in any case decided to show up; you never knew with Ethel and him. But whether he had actually been asked to be here or not, Jim was glad to see him.

By Brady’s side, more quiet than the rest, stood Brady’s friend - or at least that’s what they claimed to be - Carolyn Nyberg. Jim was surprised to see her here; he and Carolyn didn’t really have anything in common but Brady, but then again, they were seldomly seen without each other these days. She inclined her head and quietly congratulated him.

The question as to why Carolyn had come, though, was quickly answered when Ethel spotted the new arrivals and bounded over to them. “It’s so good you came! I’m so happy all of you could make it to our birthday picnic. Most of you, that is,” she said with a pointed look in Lysander’s direction, but before he could shoot back, her attention had already shifted to Carolyn.

“Did you manage to make what we talked about?”

Jim could see Carolyn was trying hard not to roll her eyes. “Please, who do you take me for? That was a child’s play.”

Brady gave her a pointed look. “Be nice, Caro, it’s their birthday.”

She sighed, but her face softened and she reached into the hidden pocket in her dress, producing a small, stoppered vial with purple liquid inside. She weighed it in her hands, looking at the mugs of pumpkin juice on the picnic blankets. “I’d say six drops per mug should be sufficient.” She moved the vial out of Ethel’s reach when she extended her hand towards it. “Not one drop more, you hear me?”

“Loud and clear.”

Jim’s apprehension about Ethel putting a potion into their drinks soon vanished when he saw what it was that Carolyn had brewed on his sister’s request. After drinking from the modified juice, everyone of their guests had a distinct spring to their step that made them jump a little every time they moved. He remembered how much fun Ethel and Selene had had when they had turned the floor of the courtyard elastic with the Spongify charm; it had gotten them three weeks worth of detention and a passion for jumping as high as they possibly could.

Not being particularly keen on moving around like a bouncing ball, Jim had only taken the tiniest sip of pumpkin juice when Ethel had offered it to him; it was enough to give his step a tolerable spring, but not enough to make him bounce like the others, and that was just the way Jim preferred it to be.

Jim usually didn’t feel comfortable among so many people, but he had to give Ethel that, even he was enjoying himself. He watched Héloïse and Selene sharing excited whispers about the latest story of the Muggle detective they were so keen about, while Brady was bickering with Siobhan over one thing or the other, and Lysander was busy trying to place Alan on top of Carolyn’s head, who told him very sternly to stop it if he didn’t want a swig of Veritaserum served with his next meal.

Happy that his and Ethel’s friends seemed to be having a good time, Jim sat down on one of the blankets, partly because he wanted to eat something, and partly because he needed a step back from the hustle and bustle.

It wasn’t long, however, before Ethel spotted him. She walked over to him, jumping into the air with each step, and slumped down onto the blanket beside him.

“Aren’t you enjoying yourself?” she wanted to know. For a very brief moment, concern flickered over her freckled face. “Because I did my very best to make this fun for both of us. Look, I even invited that horrible friend of yours,” she said and pulled a face in Lysander’s direction; he stuck his tongue out at her in response before turning away.

“No, uhm, I just needed a short break,” Jim answered and set down his plate. “You, er… you did a great job, Effy, you know? I’m having fun, I think… It’s a lovely birthday party, really… so thank you. I, uhm, I didn’t expect this, to be honest.”

“But why?” Ethel asked; she looked truly baffled at his words.

“We’re just so… uhm, how do I say it… we’re just so different, you and I. I’m quiet and, er, shy, I guess and you’re so… loud and popular and we’re just not much alike.”

Ethel dipped her head back and laughed loudly. “I’m not popular, Jim,” she sniggered, “I just don’t leave people alone. Tell them you’re friends often enough and they end up believing it,” she grinned and waved to Cledwyn, who rolled his eyes and looked away. “There’s nothing more to it than that. I bet you could do it, too.”

But Jim shook his head. “I’m not really so sure of that... I think.”

Ethel nudged him into the side with her shoulder. “Give yourself more credit. You’re my twin brother after all, that has to account for something. If this is any help, we may be polar opposites, but you’re still my favourite person in this world.”

“Uhm, what about Selene?”

Ethel pursed her lips. “Okay, maybe it’s a tie.”

Jim had to smile at that. Remembering something, he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a piece of parchment, tied to a scroll with a crimson piece of ribbon.

“Happy Birthday, Effy,” he said, for once without a stutter.

Ethel’s eyes went wide when she saw the picture Jim had drawn for her. It showed the two of them, laughing with each other. Ethel, despite being smaller than Jim, had his head in a headlock and was ruffling his hair while he was trying to escape, but he was laughing just as much as she was. The drawn versions of themselves were moving over the parchment in fluent motions. Jim had asked for Héloïse’s help with enchanting it; with his French still being awful, it had been one of the most awkward and complicated conversations in his entire life.

“It’s beautiful, Jim, thank you,” she said and flung her arms around his neck. When she let go, she looked a little sheepish. “Now I feel stupid for what I got you, although I’m pretty sure you can need it.”

With a wink, she produced her own gift. Jim could see she had wrapped it in her typical Ethel-style, with way too much wrapping paper and loads of colourful ribbons; one of them looking suspiciously like the hair tie their grandmother had gotten Ethel for Christmas. He blushed deeply when he read the cover of the small red book the parcel contained:

101 Foolproof Ways to a French Witch’s Heart - A Guide for Modern Gentlemen

“Effy… that… um… you… why…” Jim stuttered, his face a deeper shade of red than the Gryffindor banners hanging from the wooden tower behind Ethel.

His twin sister only sniggered. “Read it and thank me later.”

She got to her feet and pulled Jim along, motioning to the entrance of the pitch, where Selene was in the process of levitating a giant birthday cake onto the field. It had enchanted lion and badger figurines on top; the lion was throwing tiny pieces of cake after the badger, who caught it with its mouth.

“Come on now, dear brother,” she said as she linked arms with him and half marched, half dragged him across the lawn towards their friends. “We have a cake to cut.”