#this set's smaller than the usual ones but i just didn't have any other ideas for her

[swasdoodles]

Pot-au-Feu is the sole proprietor of the Stockhouse, a small tavern & restaurant in Manehattan. Her family's owned the shop for generations, constantly making their soups. Smells crawl out of the place day after day, inviting customers in for the specialty course: a large cauldron of garlic soup boiling endlessly as ingredients are added when needed.

[juniperdugong]

Photobooth - Wonwoo

WC: 2.8k || Genre: Fluff, Angst (?) || Ooo they crushing on each other

A/N: We'll call this a late bday present for him lol lotsa fluff, is this also angst? Idk. This is the song I had on repeat writing this, Imagine it during the climax

You and Wonwoo had hung around the same people for a while, your friend groups slowly merging before you could comprehend it. So it wasn't exactly a surprise that you'd see him here tonight but you're trying your best not to look in his direction all the same.

You guys haven't talked much... or really at all without someone else in the group being there. It's a given seeing as you're both on the introverted side anyway.

Over time you've grown to welcome seeing his face at a party or in a crowd and you've developed a little bit of a crush, one that you definitely did not mean to create. But really who could blame you?

It was Wonwoo. And the way his messy hair hung so perfectly over his face. How his glasses would fog up on occasion. And god... the way he'd lift his shirt up just a tad to wipe them. You might be insane for the thought but there's no way someone that attractive isn't getting gawked at 24/7, like clockwork.

And that's exactly what you're trying to hide as he sits across the table from you. You're drinking more than you had before he got here and you can feel the heat in your face as the buzz sets in. You've been avoiding his eyes as best you can, but you can't help noticing that he's been looking at you very intently since he sat down.

Wonwoo's been nursing a beer for the past 30 minutes, his face still slightly red from the pregame he and the boys did at the previous bar. Now he's sat in front of you. Purposefully he had pushed Dokeyom out of the way to get this seat but now that he was here he had zero idea of how to approach you. He's been trying to catch your eye the entire time but you haven't looked his way once. He goes to speak but is interrupted.

"Guys! I have a great idea!" Your friend stands up to address the table, the fact that most of you are completely out of it only makes it so that several people are cheering her on the moment she rises. "Let's go to a photo booth shop!"

In minutes someone's already handled the bill; No one cares to ask questions this far into the night. And your posse is perusing the streets looking like a bunch of fucked up college students; Not exactly wrong but not right either.

You're hanging back in the pack like you usually do. The cold air hitting your warm face feels so good that you have to close your eyes to take in the feeling. "Hey." You're startled from your daze as you see Wonwoo pull back and wait for you to catch up to him, "The night air?"

"Yeah, feels nice." The silence grows between you two as you continue walking side by side. Neither of you can tell if the heat you're feeling is from the drinks or from the intense blush you feel coming on but both of you are glad that tonight is breezy, the air serving to calm down some nerves. The last time you were alone was that night.

Not too dissimilar from tonight actually. A bunch of your friends were hanging out at a camping-themed cafe where you could sit around a fireplace. Due to how many of you there were several campfires were taken up.

You and Wonwoo sat a few chairs away from each other, by coincidence you had ended up in this smaller group as a close friend also sat here. It didn't take long for either of you to notice the other. Small glances back and forth and flickering smiles when you caught each other's eye.

Somewhere along the way, almost everyone got up to go and order more food, and as people trickled over to the counter you and Wonwoo were eventually left alone.

The tension was thick with unspoken attraction and you were both waiting for the other to make any moves. Finally, with a lump caught in his throat, Wonwoo got up and sat in the chair next to you. "Y/n, right?" You gave a little nod and chuckled, "Yeah and you're Wonwoo?". "Yep, exactly right."

You guys kept talking and talking the entire night, the conversation never dipping into silence or awkwardness, it felt like you could be here forever and never get bored. It all seemed to come naturally with Wonwoo.

Even once your friends came back the chatting didn't stop. Some of them eye the way you guys had gotten close within a matter of minutes, smirks as they could see the connection forming before their eyes. The way that with each new topic, you guys somehow managed to get physically closer. Scooting your chair to hear him better. Wonwoo leaning in subconsciously as you ramble. Both of you are practically knee to knee by the end of it.

More and more of your group dispersed as it got later in the night but you both were too enthralled in conversation to notice anyone had left until it had gotten dark.

"It was nice talking, y/n." The way the moonlight and campfire gleaned on him made your heart race.

"Yeah, I had a lot of fun Wonwoo." His cheeks hurt from smiling so much and his chest burned whenever anything so much as a smirk was on your lips.

"I'll see you around?" You hoped he was talking sooner rather than later.

"Of course!" He held onto those words like a promise.

It wasn't until you both had gotten into your cars that you realized that you didn't get each other's numbers. Shit!

It's been months since then. You've seen each other at other hangouts but neither of you had the guts to talk to the other again. Something ate at the confidence you had that night and you haven't been able to look him in the eye since. You'd never thought that you'd have a crush this intense at your age but something about Wonwoo made you feel like a highschooler again.

And he's been the same way, although a bit more direct than you. Every time he's seen you since then he'd try to get closer to you, at least be near you to quench his thirsty lovesick heart with your voice... Even if it's not directed towards him. Just staring at you made him flutter, honestly. He's been festering on these feelings for a while, even since before that night if he was being honest, but every time after that his tongue hasn't been able to form coherent sentences around you. It's like a curse.

A curse that it seems some alcohol can quell, at least for a little bit.

"We haven't talked much, have we?" He starts, the shop is just around the corner yet right now he prayed that it was miles away so he could take his time.

"Nah, we haven't. Not since..."

"Not since the campfire?"

"Yeah."

"Hey! You two! Get inside!" A quaint smile forms on your lips as someone yells for you to hurry up. Wonwoo gives a small chuckle but bites his lip to suppress the touch of anger rising now that your conversation has been cut short.

As you get in you can already see that everyone takes charge in claiming different accessories and filing into photo booths in small groups. You didn't really feel up to taking photos, far too heated from Wonwoo's company from before. Looking around, you spot some fun sunglasses shaped like daisies. They were good enough for photos and who knows? Maybe sober you will like the outcome.

After grabbing the sunglasses you dip into an empty booth and begin going through all the different styles. You're slightly hiccuping and now you can definitely feel the alcohol kicking in.

"You mind?" You'd just settled on the only appealing style out of your choices, one obviously meant for couples, one surrounded by red and pink hearts. Of course, Wonwoo had to interrupt. You have half the mind to tell him you do mind jokingly but you're too swayed by him to joke right now, "Not at all."

Now you're sat squished up in the booth with him. The flush on your face could be explained by the drinks but it's more than likely getting redder due to Wonwoo's presence.

"Sorry, all the others were taken and I didn't want to be left out." An excuse, he'd seen you come in here and he was eager to talk to you again. Alcohol really did wonders for confidence.

"It's fine, really." You smiled a bit in his direction and suddenly his heart is thumping like a rabbit's foot. "I don't even like taking photos..."

"Why not?"

"I never like how they come out."

Impossible, you're like the most beautiful person in the world, y/n. He can't even begin to comprehend your way of thinking. You were the most stunning thing in his field of view whenever you were around, how could pictures with you in them ever turn out bad?

"What?" Fuck Did he say that out loud?

"What?"

"Did you just *hiccup* call me beautiful? Wonwoo."

"I don't know." His eyes are wide and suddenly he feels as sober as a dog. He feigns innocence with a confused stare in your direction and thankfully your drunkenness takes him for his word.

"Wonwoo..." A numbness came over you that allowed for words to spill.

"Yeah, y/n?"

"I think I really like you." Great. Now he's sure he's completely sober. He turns to you, the sunglasses hiding your drowsy eyes as you lean against the side of the booth. And he's not even sure if you'll remember saying this. Great!

"You mean that?" Please say yes.

"Mean what?" You're completely out of it and he can see it, as quickly as he resigns to you forgetting what you said you speak again, "That I like you? I do mean that."

His jaw drops and he isn't sure what to do. Does he run away and grab one of the accessories that will cover the intense heat on his face? No, he doesn't want to leave you. Does he tell you he likes you back? No, that's in vain you're already not all here. Well, you are in a photo booth... He presses the START button.

"Will you be mad if I kiss you right now, y/n?"

You look at him with glazed-over doe eyes, letting the sunglasses slip off your face and fall to the floor. You didn't know if this was some sort of sick joke, a hallucination fueled by the copious amounts of alcohol in your system, or worse a drunken mistake on his part. But it was too sudden a question for you to process the options in this state.

3...2...1...Say Cheese!

"Sorry, I shouldn't have asked-" He opens the curtain to the photo booth and is ready to get up. This was a bad idea. Nothing you said should mean anything to him but it doesn't keep from the pang of disappointment he feels. Suddenly your hand is gripping his wrist telling him to stay seated, and he does.

3...2...1...Give the Camera a wink!

Both of your hearts are racing. The tension of the moment suffocates you guys but you're too caught up to notice the heaving of your breaths. You grab his face with both your hands, trying your hardest to focus on just him. Your stupor makes it extremely hard but you persist with the small amount of soberness in your body.

It takes far too long for either of you to realize as your lips press together. The shock of plush lips lights you ablaze, it's as if someone held a flame to all the booze coursing through you. You're too far gone to know that you're the one that had leaned into him and not the other way around.

3...2...1...Blast off!

If Wonwoo's eyes could pop out of his skull they would. He's nearly out of the frame of the camera as you push up against him. Your brows furrow as you close your eyes getting more into the kiss and now he's feeling awkward with his eyes wide open. He thinks your focus might just be the cutest thing he's ever seen. God, you are all he wanted, huh? A smile creeps up on his lips before he lifts his glasses and deepens the kiss, placing a hand on the small of your back and using the other to gently wrap around the back of your neck.

3...2...1...Silly Faces!

Maybe it's all the drinks but both of you swear that the other's taste is addictive. Your hands travel from his face and down his neck, pulling him in impossibly closer. You're both hungry for each other, if any of the others saw it'd probably look like borderline cannabilism with how animalistic you were going at it. Mouths trying to trace the memory of each other onto the walls of your cheeks.

It was sensual yet innocent, any trace of lust replaced with an intense passion and love. You can vividly imagine the many kisses that you could share with Wonwoo in your lifetime. Pecks on the cheek, goodbye kisses as you leave the house, intense makeout sessions, all of it. All the little quiet moments of intimacy to the burning giant gestures of love, everything with Wonwoo. It's the only sober thought you think you've had all night.

3...2...1...Big Smile!

You release him from your grip, letting your hands rest on his shoulders. Wonwoo's arms hold you in place but loosen ever so slightly. Foreheads resting on each other you just take a minute to take it in. You let your eyes open and meet his, you feel his glasses fall on between you two.

"Sorry." You say as you back away, allowing his glasses to drop back down fully.

The silence is deafening. Outside you can hear as the rest of the group giggles and chatters on, oblivious to what's just happened. You wipe your mouth as you feel a slickness on your lips, your combined spit coating you both.

You're a lot more aware now. The kiss sobering you enough to maybe be able to remember this in the morning but you weren't confident in that thought.

While you're getting that realization Wonwoo's taken the liberty of doing the finishing steps on the photos. Printing 2 copies for each of you and inserting his own email when it asks him if he wants a video of the photo-taking process. Thankfully you weren't looking when he did that, hopefully, he can show you the video at a better time and you can reminisce on your first kiss.

You startle him as you stand up. A solemn look on your face at the thought of all of this being gone by tomorrow. You really wish you didn't drink tonight. That Wonwoo hadn't sat in front of you. That he hadn't stared at you with those eyes, the ones that made you so nervous that you had to chug drink after drink to just get a modicum of confidence. You wish that what happened in the booth had happened not because you were drunk but because you were ready.

He sees the look and wants to say something... anything if it'll make you feel better. He knows all too well that that look meant that you were regretting things.

You reach out to him, cupping his face in one of your hands and swiping at his cheek with your thumb before he can say anything. Biting your lip you look at him, the feelings are all too overwhelming right now.

"Hey Wonwoo, if you remember this in the morning... remind me of it so we can do it when we're sober sometime, yeah?"

With a slight nod, he leaned into your hand and gave a lingering kiss to your palm before watching you open the curtain and walk away. His eyes stayed glued on you through the window of the shop until the moment your taxi came. A hollow feeling overcoming him as the drunkenness sets in again, although he couldn't quite decipher if this down came from the drinks or from the pure ecstasy you gave and so quickly took away, maybe both.

He walked out of the shop, a group of high-schoolers giggling in merriment as they picked out their accessories and got into their booths. The thought of wherever his friends were was purely background noise at this point.

Getting out and into the cold air he stood with his back against the glass, clutching the photo strips in one hand and his phone in the other, he set an alarm.

"Remind y/n".

A/N: I really really fucking like this one guys, smiling throughout the whole writing process. Also lovelies, for those of you reading Perfection pls know that the upcoming chapter has been delayed till next Saturday! Please reblog and comment your thoughts and as always my asks are open to any and all thoughts!

SVT Taglist (OPEN): @bemybabiibish @bath1lda

[dandylovesturtles]

havin' all these Splinter and Leo thoughts. augh.

this is partly the fault of @/turtleblogatlast's post about Leo just wanting to make Splinter proud.

post-movie

...

Seven days post-invasion, and Leo is feeling (relatively) pretty good. Sure, he's still on a truly ridiculous amount of painkillers and he can't walk two steps without collapsing, but he's able to stay awake and talk to his family and considering where he thought he would be right about now, well... that's everything.

So yeah, he's feeling pretty good. He just finished his lunch of soup and a protein shake, warm and a little drowsy while he listens to April talk about some of the more ridiculous conspiracy theories that have started spreading on the surface. Donnie's tinkering with one of his smaller inventions while he listens, Mikey is nestled in Raph's lap, and everything is calm and cozy in their makeshift medbay.

And then his dad walks in and says, "I would like to talk to Blue, please. Alone."

And suddenly Leo doesn't feel so good anymore.

"Aha, wait," he says quickly, reaching out and grabbing April's sleeve just before she rises from her chair. "Whatever it is, you can say it in front of everyone, right?"

Splinter shakes his head. "This is a conversation I think it is best we have in private." He makes a shooing motion at the others, and April pulls her sleeve from Leo's fingers with a helpless shrug.

"See ya in a few, Leo," she says, then walks out. The others look from Splinter, to him, then back to Splinter, and one by one they each get up and shuffle out, too, with their own hasty farewells.

Traitors, every single one of them.

The door closes, and Leo finds himself alone with Splinter for the first time since coming back from Staten Island. Or at least, the first time he can remember. He was pretty out of it the first few days; most of what he remembers is muddled and confused. And embarrassing. He cried a lot more than he'd care to admit.

Splinter hops into chair April was sitting in and pulls it closer; he has to stay standing to be anywhere near eye level with Leo. He wishes he could read Splinter's face, but his expression is giving nothing away. Sometimes it's easy to forget he spent a not-insignificant part of his life as an actor, until something like this happens.

Leo decides to speak before he can. Head him off at the pass, or something.

"If you're going to yell at me, just remember my eardrums are already damaged."

Which is true - turns out being 1, too close to an exploding alien spaceship and 2, getting punched in the head repeatedly by an alien very mad about said exploding spaceship is bad for the ears, even when you don't have outer ears like a human. So super loud noises are a bad idea right now, and thus Leo cannot be yelled at. Flawless logic; maybe he can keep using that every time he gets in trouble.

For the first time, his dad's expression shifts, just a little. A deeper frown, a heavier set to his brow.

"You think I came in here to yell at you?"

Leo feels his stomach twist. Does he have to spell it out? "I mean, didn't you? That's usually what kicking everyone else out is leading up to."

"I see..." Splinter is still unreadable, looking a little too intensely at Leo. "And what do you think I want to yell at you about?"

He really does want it spelled out. Leo suddenly realizes that there won't be any yelling because this is his punishment: to admit everything he's done, to speak all his sins for his dad's ears. Lay it all out in his own tongue and show that he understands, really and truly, the depths of his screwups.

Oh, he understands. He understands it so well he may choke on the words.

"...For losing the key," he says finally, and it stings on its way out. He hasn't talked about it since it happened; every time he tries to say anything to the others, they shush him, saying, "It's okay, Leo, everything is fine now."

It's not okay, and everything isn't fine, and this is when he finally hears about it.

Finally, an identifiable emotion on Splinter's face: horror, dawning clear and present. And Leo doesn't understand that, because doesn't Splinter know he lost the key? He was there for that conversation, wasn't he? Leo's memories of that day have grown a little hazy between the drugs and the recovery and the fact that thinking about it for too long makes him go fuzzy around the edges, but he's pretty sure he remembers Splinter being there. He flicked popcorn at Leo's head. He probably should have done more than that; maybe then Leo wouldn't have made such a mess of things.

Splinter doesn't say anything right away, just stares at Leo with that horrified expression, and the silence is so scary that Leo starts filling it without even thinking.

"I was kidding about the whole... not yelling at me thing. I know I deserve it. I mean, I was fooling around, doing what you and Raph told me not to do, and I doomed the whole world doing it! Some leader I am, right? And I know I'm not exactly your favorite son to begin with, and that's fair, because I keep letting you down, but this is definitely my worst screwup to date, and you yell at me when I don't close the fridge door all the way or throw balls around the TV room so why wouldn't you yell at me for destroying the planet, right...?"

His voice peters out at the end, too hoarse to continue. That's the most words he's strung together over the last week, and for the first time he's glad for his injuries, for stopping him from spewing any more embarrassing word vomit just to fill the air.

Splinter is still looking at him with that same horrified expression. If anything, he just looks more upset, which means that Leo at least accomplished his goal.

Leo's waiting for the yelling to start, but when Splinter finally says something, it's, "You think I have a favorite son?" throwing Leo for a loop once again.

"Uh, yeah?" he says, because that's all there is to say. He's always assumed it's Donnie - the "funny one", the one who fixes Splinter's TV when it's broken, and the only one of them likely to get a real job and move out of the house. But even if it's not Donnie, it's gotta be Mikey, or Raph. His brothers are amazing and talented, and all Leo has ever been good at is winning the Lair Games.

Splinter closes his eyes a moment, and when he opens them his face moves back to a more neutral expression. "I do not have a favorite son," he says, firm and serious. "I love all of you just the same."

Leo thinks that can't be true - if it is, he feels bad for the other guys. But he doesn't think he can just say that, so he says, "Yeah, Dad, of course," instead.

Splinter looks a bit crestfallen. "You don't believe me?" he asks, and shoot. Leo has no idea how to respond to that.

"...I know you love us," is what he says. And that's true, it is! He just doesn't know how his dad could like him as much as the others.

Splinter's expression turns sad. He reaches out and lays a furry hand on Leo's arm, careful of his bandages and all the many wires he's hooked to. "You think you doomed the world?"

"I lost the key," Leo repeats. "It was all my fault. It's why I had to..." His voice fumbles over the words, and he revises. "It's why it had to be me."

Splinter's mouth twists. He climbs out of the chair and onto the mattress, careful not to jostle Leo as he settles down on his knees.

"Blue," he says softly, gently palming Leo's face this time. "None of this was your fault."

Leo's stomach twists again. He thought he was being punished, but somehow this is worse.

"Yes it was," he argues. "I lost the key," for the third time, "and... and I ignored the order to retreat, and got Raph captured, and and and, I ignored the guys and tried to force our way into Metro Tower, and it was me who told Donnie to try to fly that stupid ship, and because of me Mikey had to-"

"Leonardo," says Splinter, sharp, and Leo goes silent. His dad looks devastated, but he keeps his hand on Leo's cheek, brushing with his thumb, and for the first time Leo realizes his skin is wet. Splinter sighs heavily, his entire frame seeming to droop with the weight of it.

"Leonardo," he repeats, softly this time. "You did not doom the world."

"But-"

A furry finger on his lip quiets him.

"You did not doom the world," Splinter repeats, once again firm and serious. "You did not take the theft of the key seriously, because you did not know what it was, the threat it represented. But it was the Foot Clan who chose to use that key, fully knowing what evil it would unleash. That is not on you, my son. The responsibility falls squarely on them."

Leo doesn't know how much he can believe that - isn't it their job to stop the Foot Clan? But Splinter looks so sure as he says it, and his hand is still tender on Leo's cheek, and for the first time a little bit of doubt seeps into Leo's heart, telling him that maybe, just maybe, this wasn't all his fault after all.

But still...

"Even if that's true," he says, with heavy emphasis on the if, "everything I did after that-"

"You are young," his dad interrupts. "You are inexperienced. You are learning. And the amount of growth you showed us all, even over just that one day... You shined as brightly as I know you can."

Again, Leo's stomach does a twist - but it's a happier one, this time. Splinter's voice is sincere, leaving no room for doubt, and Leo can almost, almost believe that this is true, that his dad has believed in him from the very beginning. Has seen something in him, whatever it was that led him to make Leo the leader, that lead to him putting trust in Leo.

He just wishes he felt like he'd done more to earn it.

"You did not doom the world," says his dad again. "You saved it. But, it never should have been like that to begin with. You should never have been facing down such a fierce foe so young, especially as alone as you boys were. And you-"

His voice becomes choked up, and Leo's heart lurches.

"You... sacrificed yourself to save us all. I... I am your father, and I... could not protect you."

He's crying. His dad is crying, and Leo feels panic, reaching out to try and stop this.

"Dad-"

"No." Splinter holds up a hand, giving his head a hard shake. "All I ever wanted for you boys was to save you from the sacrifices asked of our family. And yet I could not - and for that, you paid dearly. You almost paid the ultimate price, and we almost lost you forever."

A thick knot forms in Leo's throat, and he can barely get out, "I'm okay, Dad, I'm here."

"Yes you are." Splinter squeezes his shoulder desperately. "You are here. You are safe. But that doesn't change that it should not have been you to begin with."

Leo watches in dawning horror as Splinter steps back, then kneels over on the mattress.

"This is why I came in here, Blue. Not to yell at you. To apologize."

He presses his forehead against the sheets.

"I am so sorry that I could not protect you."

He's crying. So is Leo, openly now. He reaches out for his dad, fumbling for his shoulders and urging him to straighten up.

"No, Dad... This wasn't your fault!"

"But-"

"No! It was just... it was just a really, really shitty thing that happened, okay? It was the Foot Clan, and the Krang, but it wasn't- it wasn't..."

Splinter raises his face and looks at him, and suddenly the words he's been trying to get Leo to believe for the last several minutes barrel into him and Leo crumbles.

"...I didn't have to do it," he says.

"No." Splinter gets up, coming closer. "You had nothing to atone for. You did it because you are brave, and you are kind, but this was never yours to fix."

Leo sucks in one harsh breath, then another, and then he's sobbing harder than he ever has in his life, and his dad hugs him tight, his arms warm and his fur soft where Leo buries his face in his shoulder.

All the feelings he's pushed aside - the ones he didn't think he had the right to feel, because he'd had to do it, he had to make up for his mistakes - bubble over, gripping him with grief and despair but also relief, that he's still here to cry and be hugged by his dad.

"I was so scared."

"I know."

"I thought I wouldn't see you guys again."

"I know. We thought we had lost you, too."

"I just... I didn't know what else to do... I couldn't let him... I couldn't..."

"Shhh, it's alright. It's over now. We're all safe."

Leo hugs his dad back, as tightly as he can with his injuries, and sobs and sobs until he's all out of tears. And all along, his dad tells him he is safe, he is good, and he is loved.

Later, Leo feels even better than he had before.

[nb-octopus-writes]

once you're in the hive, the other bees assume you're supposed to be there

[Masterpost]

Summary:

Virgil accidentally gets absorbed by his best friend's brother's polycule.

In his defense, they keep feeding him every time they see him, and Patton's cooking is really good.

Chapter 1: Halloween Party

Wordcount: 1.9K

~

There are a lot of people Virgil doesn't know at this party. Remus is here, somewhere, and Virgil needs to find him again before the party ends, because Remus was his ride and he doesn't want to get left here. Janus is here too though, and Virgil doesn't think Janus would let Remus leave without him, and he's sure Remus wouldn't desert Janus, so he's trying not to worry too much about the fact that he doesn't currently know where Remus is.

But that's it for people Virgil knows, and Remus didn't even bother to introduce him to anyone before fucking off to who knows where, and Virgil’s certainly not going to walk up to a random stranger and introduce himself, so he's currently appreciating the snack table. If he's eating or deliberating on what to eat next, he can't be expected to talk to anybody, right?

“’Scuse me, itsy bitsy,” someone says from behind him, and Virgil turns to see a vaguely familiar man in a dazzling prince costume holding a fresh plate of deviled eggs.

Virgil moves so that the prince dude can set the plate down on a clear spot on the table, and frowns. “I'm taller than you, Princey.”

Prince dude shrugs, plucks one of the eggs up, and takes a large bite. “Lucky you, or we'd've had to ask you to vacate the premises,” he says. “No little spiders allowed, real or fake.”

Which, yeah, now that he's mentioned it, Virgil had noted an extreme lack of spider-themed decorations, which is unusual for Halloween. Usually there'd at least be spiderweb cupcakes, but the cupcakes at this party are mostly cute ghosts.

There's probably a good reason for that, Virgil realizes with a sinking feeling. “Should I change?”

“You got another costume handy, or were you planning on spinning a spider-silk cocoon and metamorphosing into a butterfly?”

Virgil grimaces. “No,” he admits.

Prince Dude considers him. “It's not very realistic,” he says, which is true. Virgil hadn't been going for realism, he'd been going for passable costume I can make on short notice. He's wearing black jeans and a black hoodie, and he'd cut some pool noodles in half and wrapped them in more black cloth and stuck them to his back for the other four legs. It had been a pain to get them to stay in place properly, actually, and he'd ended up sewing their wrappings to the back of his hoodie in order to keep them where he wanted them. He'd been pretty proud of it, given that Remus had dropped “we're going to a costume party at my brother's house” on him like an hour beforehand, but now he's wishing he'd come up with any other idea. He could have put a sheet over his head and been a ghost, or something. Granted, that would have required him to have a sheet that was both white and that he was willing to cut holes in, which he didn't, but still.

Prince Dude continues to quietly scrutinize Virgil, and he wants to squirm under his gaze. Eventually, the guy shrugs and says, “Might be best to ask the scaredy-cat himself. Wait here, I'll be back.” And he saunters off before Virgil can answer.

For lack of anything better to do, Virgil picks up a deviled egg and shoves the whole thing in his mouth. It's really tasty, actually, and now he's wishing he'd taken smaller bites rather than horking it down in one.

Virgil had thought that Princey was just being mean with the “scaredy-cat” thing, but the guy he's talking to now actually is dressed as a calico cat. Prince Dude points back at Virgil, and Mister Calico Cat glances in his direction, then turns back to Princey. Virgil can't hear what they're saying, but he supposes Prince Dude must've asked Calico if Virgil’s costume was too creepy crawly scary.

They talk for way longer than Virgil had expected, and he can't tell if Calico's response was more like “No, he's fine,” or more along the lines of “Yes, that's terrifying, please have him removed immediately from my sight and also my home.”

He occupies himself with another deviled egg. If he's going to get kicked out, he might as well enjoy some more of this tasty food first.

Oh, fuck. Remus.

Remus isn't going to want to leave early just to take Virgil home, and Virgil still doesn't know where he even is! Fuck!

Well, Remus could have warned him not to be a spider, so if Virgil gets kicked out of the party it'll be at least partly Remus's fault. Virgil doesn't know anybody here, but Remus knows at least half these people, and if Calico’s spider aversion is enough that there are no spider-themed decorations in the house on Halloween, that sounds like the kind of thing Remus would know about.

Granted, Remus revels in being gross and annoying, but still! He's not a total dick. He should have told Virgil.

Fucker.

Calico vanishes into the other room, and Prince Dude comes back over to Virgil. He doesn't look like he's about to kick Virgil to the curb, at least. Virgil braces himself anyway.

“Good news!” Princey says with a grin. “Li’l Mister Muffet says you don't look like a creepy crawly death dealer and he doesn't have the urge to remove you with arson!”

Virgil blinks. “...gooood?” he says slowly. He hadn't even considered kill it with fire being a potential response to his costume. That would have been worse than just getting kicked out of the party, actually.

“Honestly you're much more Doc Ock in silhouette, Spider-Man,” Princey continues. “That helps a lot.”

Virgil glances back at where Prince Dude and Calico had been chatting. “So he didn't leave the room because he can't stand the sight of me?” he asks anyway.

“Nah, he wanted to make another plate of horse devours,” Princey says, reaching past Virgil to grab a cupcake off the table. This one has a little frosting bat.

“A plate of what?” Virgil says, because surely he didn't hear that right.

“Little snacks,” Prince Dude clarifies instead of repeating himself. “Our fridge is crammed with delicious bits and bobs. It's been so hard to resist the temptation to eat them before the party.” He bites appreciatively into his cupcake, then adds with his mouth full, “You'd think he wouldn't notice what with how much he made, but nooo, sneak one chocolate covered cherry before party time and it's a lengthy scolding for you!” Princey sighs dramatically, then cheerfully devours the rest of his cupcake.

“...hors d'oeuvres?” Virgil says hesitantly.

“Yeah, a couple ordervs of deviled eggs, cheese and crackers, and those scrumptious little pinwheel things,” Princey says. Virgil’s not sure if Princey actually doesn't know how hors d'oeuvres is pronounced, or if he's messing with him, but then Princey gives him a mischievous grin that one, confirms that yes, Princey does know what he's doing, and two, is so familiar that it freezes Virgil in place as the pieces click together in his brain.

The lack of a mustache makes Prince Dude's face look different, and so does the way he did his makeup, and he carries himself differently, but it's undeniable all the same: Virgil knows that grin.

This is Remus's twin brother.

Now that he's connected the dots (you haven't connected shit) the family resemblance is clear even to Virgil’s honestly rather faceblind eyes.

This is Remus's brother, and it's his house they're partying at.

… Virgil doesn't remember the guy's name.

Fuck, he should've made sure he at least knew who the party hosts were, especially the one related to his mischief goblin of a best friend.

Well he can't exactly ask now, can he?

“Also like, five types of cupcakes,” Princey continues, oblivious to Virgil’s inner turmoil. “Seriously, have you tried the cupcakes? Chef Boiardelightful made multiple separate batches of different flavors, from scratch. And they're all delicious!”

Virgil smirks. “And did you try to snitch them before the party too?”

Princey gasps theatrically, pressing a hand to his chest. “How could you accuse me of such a thing!?” he protests with exactly as much dramatic emotion as Virgil would expect from Remus's twin. “For your information, I did not! I merely sampled a portion of the batter left on the spatula after the cupcakes had gone into the oven. Also some of the frosting.”

“He means that he licked the bowls clean,” says a new voice, and Virgil does not jump out of his skin, thank you very much. And even if he did jolt a little, it's nothing to the startled squawk Princey emits.

Calico's back, holding a platter of little finger sandwiches on toothpicks. He offers them up to Virgil, who takes one. “Thanks.”

“No worries, kiddo!” Calico says cheerfully, and puts the rest of the platter down on the snack table. Princey plucks up two sandwiches by their toothpicks, and gets a stern look in response. “Make sure to leave some for the guests,” Calico scolds.

“My delightful and beloved Patissier,” Princey says, cupping Calico's face gently with his free hand. “I assure you that each of our guests could have a heaping plateful of food and we would still have leftovers until next Tuesday. No-one will be going home hungry.”

It really is an impressive spread. Everything Virgil’s tried has been really good. Remus really could have played up the ‘free food’ angle more when trying to convince Virgil to come. If he'd known the food would be this good, then overriding his usual party-related reservations—it's gonna be loud, there will be a lot of people, I don't know anybody, etc—would have been a lot easier. Then again, Virgil probably wouldn't have believed him. He'd mostly been expecting pizza and cheap beer, honestly, not– not homemade delicacies.

The tiny sandwich Calico gave him is lightly toasted, with some kind of sliced-meat-and-cream-cheese filling, and a little green leafy garnish on top. It definitely looks much fancier than most things Virgil eats, and he can understand why Calico doesn't want Princey to eat them all. That probably took a decent amount of effort. He almost feels bad eating it himself, except that Calico had offered it to him specifically, and it would probably be more rude at this point to not eat it.

“Are you sure my costume is okay?” Virgil asks, interrupting the minor squabble Princey and Calico had fallen into.

“Oh, yes, you're fine,” Calico assures him. “Trust me, if you were pinging my brain as an actual spider I wouldn't be in the room right now, let alone standing next to you.”

“Really, cause most cats I know would eat a spider soon as look at it,” Virgil quips, and is rewarded with Calico laughing.

“That wouldn't be very good host-ly of me, now would it?” he says. “I would never eat a guest!”

“Not unless they're a reptile with scallions,” Princey teases, and Calico flushes.

“Hey!” he protests, swatting Princey's shoulder with one hand and trying to cover his extremely red face with the other. Virgil wonders what the reference was, exactly, but doesn't think it's his place to ask. It seems rather personal, from how hard Calico is blushing.

…maybe he'll ask Remus later if he knows what the story there is.

~~~~

Chapter 2: The Morning After

[yandere--stuck]

Hello! I wanted to say AMAZING job on that platonic yandere autobot post- yandere posts with the kids in them always put a pit in my stomach but I can admit you wrote it really well!

Though that makes me wonder what would happen with others that are either new and don't have a 'sparkling' or ones that have already been there (Ratchet and Optimus) who technically don't have a sparkling of their own? Like I know it's unlikely but I can't stop imagining smokescreen or wheeljack randomly snatching a human in their mid 20s and going "this is my kid" and no one fighting them on it

Aaaa thank you so much!! With Wheeljack I can see him and Bulkhead being like omg twinsies!! when they realize they both took in a 'human sparkling'. I hope you like these ^^

---

I think if it's a situation where the 'sparkling' isn't taken care of by the whole team, Ratchet would be the most overprotective of his human sparkling. Like, you're not going anywhere without him there. You're not leaving the base even. You're lucky if he trusts the others to take care of you, or else he may just lock you in his resting quarters while he's away.

It's not that he means to punish you. You have to understand. He's just… Terrified. He loves you so much and it's terrifying. He can't lose another one. Please. He can't lose another child. It'll break him. Please, please, just understand. He loves you too much to let you be hurt again.

And it's not all bad! He loves to pick you up and hold you in his arms, pressed against his chassis. It's one thing he misses most about losing his little ones… He also enjoys playing games with you or indulging in interests and projects. He loves nothing more than to see a smile on your face and know how much you and your passions mean to him. Though, he has the tendency to go a bit overboard.

If he's delusional enough, he may believe you're somehow his child or grandchildren reincarnated. He'll tell you the memories he has of Cybertron with his family to try to jog your memory.

Despite his unconditional love for you, Ratchet is a grumpy old mech and has a tendency to be stern when need be - and even if not. He may raise his voice at times, but is quick to apologize and swoop you up into his arms.

Optimus' affection is more reserved than Ratchet's, but that doesn't mean he loves you any less! His adoration is usually expressed through praise and words of encouragement. I imagine The Matrix would try to curb this increasingly possessive parental attachment toward you, but perhaps Optimus can simply… Bend the rules just a bit?

It's only natural to see you as a sparkling, is it not? You were significantly younger and smaller than him and he'd taken on a protective role toward you, if anything, it'd be odd if he didn't see you as one. And it was his duty to protect the lives of humanity, especially against the Decepticons. He was doing this because he must. He must keep you safe. You're so small. So fragile. So young.

If he must keep constant communication with you to assure your safety, so be it. If he must disrupt your daily life to protect you from Decepticon attacks, he will do it gladly. And it hurts him to do so, but if locking you within the base is what stops Optimus from losing you, it is the price he is willing to pay. 

At some point, something glitches. Why should he be remorseful for his actions? You were family, after all. His sparkling. And he would do anything to keep you safe.

This glitch in his Matrix may also extend to Bumblebee, but perhaps less so because Bee is much less fragile than you. Optimus would love if the two of you began bonding. Not just to cement you as family, but it means another set of optics on you, as well.

Love the idea of Wheeljack either randomly being like "my baby now" with you without realizing Bulk was doing the same, so when they both go to show their kids off they get so hype because !!! Same wavelength! OR Jackie seeing Bulkhead getting his own Sparkling and being like 'hell yeah this planet has free kids' and zooming off to get his own.

Jackie would try to be as fun a caretaker as possible. Would love to joke around with you, play games, let you climb on him or sit on his shoulders. Also likes to tease you, usually about how small you are compared to him.  What? It's cute!

But, his patience can wear rather thin if you keep begging him to let you throwing tantrums, and while his punishments aren't physical in nature, they can be rather cruel.

For instance, if you're so insistent that he let you go, surely you wouldn't mind him driving you out into the desert and leaving you there, right? I mean, its basically the equivalent of what he'd be doing if he abandoned you when Cons and other dangers are everywhere on this planet! He'll drive out a couple miles before circling back and asking, rather smugly, if you got everything out of your system and were ready to come back to him.

Also! Two dads for the price of one! When he knows he's gonna be going down some dangerous roads and needs someone to watch after you, Bulkhead is the mech for the job!

I feel like Smokescreen would be more of an older sibling figure! No less protective of you than the others, but more of a different dynamic.

For instance, he really, really wants to impress you. He'll go out of his way to do tricks if it means your eyes are on him and smiling up at him. He loves to know you're happy and being the one to make you smile. He hopes you can look up to uim the same way he looks up to Optimus!

And for that, he's also hit very hard at any sign of conflict or disappointment from you. He doesn't really like the idea of punishments. You're far younger than him, you don't know what you're saying. You're confused and upset and so you're lashing out. It's okay, Smokescreen understands. If he ever does feel like you're purposefully trying to hurt him, he'll simply give you the silent treatment.

He loves scooping you into gentle hugs or holds, carrying you around the base. Also loves taking you out for car rides and just talking together.

And if any Decepticons even think about laying a claw on you, he'll make them wish they never existed <3

[mountkennedie]

Plants

Loki x reader

Summary: you visit Loki in his personal library

warnings: Loki season 2 reference (sorry BUT I HAD TO), fluff

A.N. gender fluid Loki means everything to me

The young prince of Asgard had many places he frequented. His room, of course, everyone loves their room. A certain shadowed place in the kingdom gardens that he thinks only he knows about. And lastly, in the place he was in now, the library. For his birthday, it had been gifted to him. There already was a library in the palace. This was really just a smaller version of it. However, this one supplied only his favorite genres, and when that idea was proposed, I don't think the person was aware of Loki's reading history. He has many favorite genres, and space in the smaller library was filled quickly.

You had nothing better to do to spend your time. And usually that meant you would find your best friend of many years. Contrary to popular belief, you knew to check the library first. It makes sense to go to his room, but you know better. He didn't actually have many books in his room. It was a guideline set by his mother so that he would sleep at night instead of read the hours away. All the books inside had been read cover to cover so many times he could probably recite them at any given moment.

Approaching the doors, there were two guards standing watch. "Is Loki in today?" You knew their names, and honestly, more than you probably should for the royal guards. Their jobs were protection, not chatter. But who could resist a little break from that strict code? Especially when you would ask the most random yet interesting questions you could think of.

"If you had the choice of only being able to see one color for the rest of your days, which one would you choose?"

"My lady, I have been advised to limit conversation that does not concern the safety of the kingdom. But also a nice blue would not be bad."

"Yes, my lady, he is. Would you prefer an introduction?" He asked.

"That won't be necessary." They both nodded their heads and opened the doors for me to enter. The room was beautifully lit. The lanterns were a lovely touch, with the edition of the small candles added a very cozy feeling. Luckily, the windows in the corners of the room had been cracked. Neither of you could stand the smell of standing smoke. There were two couches in the center of the room. They were large and rather dramatic, the edition of the green velvet cushions added to the atmosphere.

Upon one to those couches was the one you had been looking for. Stretched out on the right couch, new book in hand. The title was something you couldn't make out. Their fingers covered it perfectly. "You know you can ask instead of trying to sneakily figure it out," they quipped. They finally looked up and smirked at you.

You helped yourself to sit down on the adjacent couch. "No, I am good with sneaking glances," you replied in a similar tone.

He huffed and placed his book down on the table. "Is there nothing interesting going on in the palace? That is why you violate my one place of solace?" He kept his tone light, so you knew his cruel words were nothing but words.

"Oh, I just knew you missed my presence so much. I had to cease your worries and needs." The pair of you could go on for hours if you both wanted. But instead of that, you needed him to answer something. "Loki, if you were a plant, what plant would you be?"

"That's what has been plaguing you today?" She sat up, and you mirrored her. She stared at the ceiling for a moment, "If I was a plant..."

"I have an idea of what I think you'd be, but I still am curious as to what you think." You rested your head on your hands facing him. Your smile of amusement gleamed on your face. You loved watching her in deep thought.

"Well, help me out. What would you be?" Their smile matched yours. It grew bigger when your brows knitted in concentration.

"I think I would be a fern. A nice pretty fern with a big wide leaf span. I would make all the other ferns jealous," You finished your sentiment with a theatrical voice. You had been thinking of this for a little bit. And by a little bit, it was really what you were thinking about on the way here.

"I could easily see you passing as a fern. As for me... I can see myself as some form of tree. Maybe a weeping willow or a variation of it." When he finished his thought, he looked back down at you.

"I was thinking more of a strong oak tree, growing tall and providing shade for anyone lucky enough to walk near you." He looked at you after you said that. Not with the typical look of a friend, but of something more weighted. You could really only hope that was what you were seeing. The growing feelings of adoration towards the god had only gotten more intense over time. You've heard of many seeing the world through rose colored glasses. You could wish that your vision was clear.

"Thank you," They looked like they wanted to say more. And you implored they would. But instead, you both continued the intense eye contact you both had been holding. The air was too thick for your lungs to carry. You wanted them to make the first move because you were frozen. "Y/n?"

Your name was spoken in the way a lover would address another. You said a silent prayer that your eyes were not scarlet sensitive in this moment. "Loki?" Your voice was barely stronger than a whisper. He stood and approached your couch. You stood up and moved to be in front of him.

"It is my turn to ask you something." He took a deep breath and took your hands in his. "I need to know now, have your feelings toward me ever been more than... platonic?" His eyes were full of fear. But you also could see how badly he needed to hear your response.

You managed to get one gust of air inside your long awaiting lungs. You looked into his eyes one last time as a friend, then said, "Yes."

He blinked twice as the clarity rolled over him. His hands lightly squeezed yours, "Even now?" His voice was something you had never heard before. It was frail and desperate. You nearly wanted to apologize for putting him through such torment.

You thought of your next words thoroughly. "Especially now," you squeezed his hands back in the same manner. She sighed and shut her eyes. You did the same, and you both rested your foreheads on the others. Without word, your both tilted your heads up and let your lips collide.

You were not sure who sighed into the kiss, but it was still an accurate representation of the need for action. It stayed slow, but not any less passionate as a kiss of messy fire. When you both pulled apart, your hands stayed conjoined. No one spoke. No words could describe what was flowing between you two.

Eyes closed and lips locked yet again. Again and again and again.

[onlyhereforthestories]

Stay, Stay, Stay (Ashley Sanchez x Reader)

This was a request that I loved writing! I hope you all like and this is my first Ashley fic but expect more!

It had been a long day and you were more than ready to get home to your girlfriend of 3 years. Since coming out to the public in the most subtle way you could (showing your support for the woman at the World Cup and how proud you were of her for being there) you had been noticed more in your normal life. This has led to more pictures and eyes on you no matter where you were and that included at your work. For some reason today seemed to be a day where you noticed the presence of cameras or phones trained at you more and that made you really uneasy.

You were hoping Ashley hadn't seen any of the recent ones yet, so you had time to explain yourself and what happened today before she got the wrong idea. However as soon as you walked through the door to your shared apartment you knew the pictures were already all over social media and the blonde had seen them. She stood in the doorway to the kitchen with a slightly hurt expression on her face and her arms crossed protectively over her chest.

You took a moment to take your shoes and coat off before you made your way towards her, you kept your hands in your pockets and tried to relax your posture so she could see that you were not here to argue. “It's not what it looks like.” Maybe that wasn't the best sentence to start with, but it was the truth and you wanted her to know that from the get go.

The scoff you received in return said that right now Ashley didn't believe you and part of you was hurt and the other part did not blame her. “So you pressed up behind another woman is not what it looks like yeah?” The eye roll didn't go unnoticed by you, and you knew you were in for a hell of an evening if you didn't sort this out.

“You can't see my camera because it's the other side of me and Lily, that was the start of the picture…” You saw the jealous spark flash across your girl's face when you mentioned the models name and so stopped speaking quietly.

“So you're trying to tell me that you were pressed so close to another woman without being ready to take whatever shot you were trying to take? What you wanted some extra time all stuck to her perfect model back?” Ashleys voice was getting louder and louder as she spoke. You could see her working herself up over this and you weren't sure how to help. You honestly were literally there for a second because you both realised the male model who was meant to be facing Lily wasn't ready yet. You were behind Lily so you could get the camera at a good angle between them and facing the sky for the shot of them from waist height.

You couldn't explain that right now because you knew your girl and she was not in a place to listen. She had started muttering about how you would like it if she got all up close and personal with Trin in training. When she headed for the lounge you made to follow only to have a pillow thrown at your face.

You blink a couple of times to process what just happened, you couldn’t think of a time at which Ashley had even threatened seriously to throw anything at you, so you were slightly in shock. When you managed to ground yourself you looked up to see the smaller blonde stood in shock by the coach that had a throw cushion missing from its usual set up.

Taking another few deep breaths you opened your mouth so speak, as you do you see Ashley shrink a little ready for what she thought was going to be an angry response from you. “|I think it would be best if I go into the bedroom for a little while and give you some space and time. I’m sorry you had to see the photo without notice from me but when you are ready ill explain what happened.” Without another word you headed for your shared room to shower and change while your tiny firecracker calmed down.

Ashley was stunned to say the least, she was expecting you to blow up on her for not only getting stupidly jealous but for throwing something at you. She didn’t mean too she was just feeling really overwhelmed by her thoughts and she just needed for you to not be in the room she was. Taking a moment to listen to your retreating form she stayed standing until she heard the shower switch on. She knew you, she knew you loved her more than a lot of things so she knew that whatever the reason behind the picture would be an innocent and honest one. She would explain to you as well that she had been seeing comments about how she had managed to get the hot photographer and that you could do so much better than a world cup bench player so when the photo came out after that it had just been the final nail in the coffin.

When the shower turned off Ashley got up to go to you but when she headed in that direction she saw the cushion and bent down to pick it up. With that an idea came to her mind, you were giving her time to cool off and she knew how to get you to come back. She ran back to the couch, threw the cushion in its place and grabbed her phone connecting it to the surround sound system you had insisted they have set up in the small apartment. She scrolled through the playlist you had made together until she found it, your song.

"I'm pretty sure we almost broke up last night,

I threw my phone across the room at you,

I was expecting some dramatic turn away,

But you stayed"

You had just pulled your joggers on when you heard the first line of one of your favourite songs, it held a massive place in your heart being you and Ashley’s song. It didn’t even take you the first line to realise this was Ashley saying she was calm and ready to talk.

Deciding to have a bit of fun you rummaged in your wardrobe for your old softball helmet which you had always kept. Pulling it on you walked out the room and towards the living space where the music was coming from. As you rounded the corner you made eye contact with the love of your life and got to see the moment she realised what you had on your head.

“I’m ready to talk.” The belly laugh you got in reply was exactly what you were aiming for. It would always be one of your greatest achievements making the woman laugh.

Before you could go to take the helmet off you were being charged at. You put a foot back to brace yourself as Ashley flung herself into your arms, which of course wrapped right around her, one around her waist and the other under her left thigh to hold her to you. She had pressed her head into your neck and was pressing a few delicate kisses there as she whispered her sorry. You squeezed her waist and replied that it was okay.

Ashley was set back on her feet but before she could pull away you started to sway with your arms around her neck. You favourite Taylor Swift songs playing on in the background as the two of you got lost in the moment.

[unwantedshivering]

can i get uhhhh more tender kevin? maybe something with him realizing he really scared the reader doing something and he didn't mean to so he's his version of nice about it?

ABSOLUTION

He couldn’t help himself from feeling this way, and it annoys him more than it hurts you.

MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: HEAVY emotional manipulation, controlling actions, hurtful words, light angst, Kevin being scary (not really), jealousy, possessiveness, dead reader imagery, obsessive behavior, blood and wound

FOR: Kevin Katchadourian (2.0k)

NOTES: i completely went a bit wild with this, so it's definitely longer than i wanted it to be. could this be called mild yandere? also unedited so don't mind any carelessness

It was a stupid thing.

Kevin had never done anything stupid in his life, and he never intended to. Everything was set how he wanted them to be, everybody as empty-brained or clueless. His every slight of hand had never once been unprecedented by him, though he might seem impulsive and mercurial to others.

So why did he find himself with the urge to simply stop speaking? Why did he feel the need to stop moving altogether?

The words flowed freely from his mouth, tongue unabashedly bitter and spiteful. The pocket knife he had in his hand gripped tight. He had taken to fiddling with it recently after you gifted it to him a while back, even though he told you he’d throw it away if you bought him anything.

He didn’t, of course, despite himself. He didn’t like or want to learn to use anything beside his bow, but its intricacy was… nice to look at.

It took him a while to accept gifts, and for a while he truly did throw some of them away. At some point, you bought them just for the sake of presenting it to him, but at a later point you’d see smaller trinkets still in his room. It made the area surprisingly lively despite how dead Kevin lived.

“Are you calling me a liar now?”

You were seated on his bed (one that was perpetually blank, devoid of personality), cross-legged and emotionally despondent. It’d been a long day, your whole being exhausted with the notion of there being a next. You agreed to grab a coffee with a friend that morning.

It was a bad idea.

You didn’t tell Kevin, forgetting to let him know. Usually he wasn’t so… abrasive when it came to your friends, though he didn’t like them. He knew that they were your friends, and having that approval of seeming like the perfect boyfriend amused him. It was almost funny seeing them fall headfirst into his boy next door persona. You even watched him help a female friend of yours, as if he was wrapping the facade with a bow; kind, charming, tall, wow, you have the whole package don’t you?

It was a little secret for him and you to keep.

So why was he so goddamn irked? You usually had more patience with Kevin, more love to give him. It was just difficult when you hadn’t seen each other in a while. Kevin periodically pulled away from you, like clockwork after being emotionally vulnerable or intimate he would stop coming over unannounced. You found him undeniably alluring despite this. Damn you for coming back to him, but you’d be more damned if you didn’t.

“No,” you answered, “you saw me, yes, but he’s not in love with me.”

In a quick motion, Kevin seated himself in front of you on his bed. “You’re calling me a liar. I know what I saw.”

“What did you see, Kevin?” you murmured, eyes flickering tiredly from his face to his hands, knuckle-white from his vice on the pocket knife.

“I saw him pathetically jabbering at your fucking feet, trying to get even a glimpse of your affection.” That your sounded awfully like mine. Kevin’s pretty face barely scrunched at the acidity of his tone, but somehow his darkened eyes and harshly clenched jaw made your breath quicken.

Flick. Blade in, blade out.

"He didn't mean anything, he was just paying for me," you stated. You forgot your wallet and it was a small gesture.

"He was drooling." It made you wince to even hear it. Its sheer harshness was grating. It convinced you he could do something horrible, even if it wasn't directed toward you.

Flick. In and out. The pocket knife kept flicking, and you followed its movements instead of Kevin's face. Faster, and faster.

He'd done infinitely worse before. Kevin could make people do things they had no intention of doing before. You saw how his laced words could make men and women unintentionally doom themselves, and it wasn't unknown to you that you were just as susceptible. You were probably the most susceptible to him, really. It was hard resisting someone like him, and harder to escape him when he didn't want you to. Though want was a strong word to use for him. He never wanted anything, but the closest he ever felt it was the ache that thrummed silently around you.

His eyes were compelling, magnetic, like a honey trap. They were brooding even now, eyebrows drawn together and anger boiling over. It was like walking into a bear trap knowing you'd be caught, ankle clasped in an excruciating vice that wouldn't ever let up. Flick. Flick.

He'd never dirty his own hands. Never felt the need to. Urges came in waves and feelings dull enough to sink beneath his impenetrable skin. So why, why, why was this scaring you? Faster, faster. It was antagonizing.

You knew he could — had done worse. This is assuming he'd do anything to you. Oftentimes you cared for him even though the barely there danger was forever present. It danced under your skin: fear. It came to the surface in this present moment only. His knees were touching yours, and you couldn't keep your eyes glued anywhere but the damn knife you gifted him. It was him and you, your back to the wall. Cornered. Something shaky escaped your lips.

"Kev, Kevin — you're scaring me." Flick. Inward. Out. You hadn't expected him to listen to you, not really, only because he'd purposefully barely miss your face when practicing archery. It'd graze you like his breath. These things would shake you, but only so much. This was much less dangerous in comparison. It was the simple deadness in his eyes that was different.

Everything he had done was for his own whims, his own nature of being himself. This was motivated by you, and you only. Whatever he could or would do... it'd be worse. Sickeningly so.

"Kevin," you tried again, quieter, disconcerted. His alluring face never let up, jaw tense and chest heavy.

He didn't move once to the sound of his name. Not a twitch or a sign of life. It was disturbing. Kevin had always disturbed you, but it ceased to something muted most of the time. It also attracted you. This was different. This felt like a mutilation of those previous times he’d subtly scare you, it felt like he could do something heinous, and you were all too aware of being secluded in his room. Blinds closed. Parents and sibling gone. Alone. Just him, only him.

You’d never been scared at the possibility of being alone in his room before. He was a man, sure, but he was Kevin. Flashes of darker impulses, of your neck, of yourself bleeding flashed through your head. His aim had always been particularly good.

It was definitely stupid. It was you being reduced to your baser instincts of survival, and it was worse to say that Kevin had triggered it.

Out. In a desperate, quick motion you attempted to slowly grab his wrist, but the speed of his movements caused the blade to come in contact with your palm instead. In. Finally, he stopped. You had a grip on the blade instead of his hand, and red droplets of your blood fell onto his clean sheets. They were perpetually and unnaturally clean, always. You were the first to stain them.

The air felt stagnant before the tension filtered away, and Kevin deftly made you let up before flicking the knife inward. A flash of something danced across his features. It was concealed surprise, and a twitch of his eyebrows upwards. Not amusement, something worse.

He grabbed your wrist, motions ever non-gentle, and made you open your fingers. The line wasn't shallow, but still stung. The way he looked at it made you feel relieved. "You're stupid," he said, voice light. His tone showed no concern. "I just sharpened it."

He liked it enough to sharpen it? It was an engraved and lovely thing, something seemingly delicate and unlike him. Of everything he threw away you expected it to be a part of them. “That's surprising," you murmured.

"Stand up."

You pursed your lips and followed him silently, clutching your wrist to keep the stinging at bay. He led you to the bathroom, rummaging around in the overhead cupboard before pulling something out. In his hand was a med-kit from their bathroom that was most frequently used when Celia was younger, and otherwise hadn't been touched since Kevin mastered archery.

He placed it on the counter before turning you around by your shoulders, making you face yourself and him in the mirror. Mussed hair, confused expression. Tired. Kevin looked like his usual self, though his eyes were trained solely on you, and that had your heart thrumming against your ribcage. He stood behind you, enveloping his hand in yours as he turned on water to wash the cut.

His larger, calloused palms from years of practice felt rough against your own. Lithe fingers slipped in between the crevices of yours, the red marbling against the white sink. It entranced you slightly. You were all too aware of the heat radiating off his body behind you. Intimacy like this was unexpected from him, at least the kinder, softer kind. It was too domestic. Too loving for someone like him. It was also all based on him and when he wanted to give it.

Kevin grabbed your sides, and the smallest yelp escaped your mouth in surprise. It wasn't until he sat you down on the counter that you closed your agape lips at his actions. He was closer than before, the small bathroom feeling infinitely smaller, and the both of you being more intimately intertwined.

"Open," he demanded, though there was no usual assuredness. It was monotone but somehow bared, like a vivisection on a table. It was vulnerable. You splayed your palm for him like an animal on its back.

He'd usually like the fact that you felt some sort of fear mixed with attraction for him, like you were toeing the line with danger unknowingly. Of course, you weren't, you wholeheartedly cared for him whether or not he gave you that thrilling risk. This thought made his ministrations slower, more deliberate. Careful and care-filled. His dark eyes were focused on your palm, eyes narrowed as he dried off your hands, wiping softly as though they were entirely fractured instead.

He opened antiseptic that hadn't been used in ages, competence and dexterity in his motions. It was odd being cared for by him. Odder with how willing you were to accept it. He patted the wound with a cotton pad, the stinging of the wound dampened by his intensity and closeness. A breath escaped his lips, tickling your skin lightly.

The wound itself pricked ever so slightly, barely there, pulsing silently like a heartbeat. It was in sync with your off-kiltered breathing, and its intimacy was grueling for your psyche. Cruel, even.

After he bandaged you, he lingered, hands clutching your own. You were close enough to curl your fingers and brush his hair out of his eyes. It was a simple action, altogether lovely. He allowed it with a small flutter of his eyes.

"I don't like him," he said finally, as though he was trying to say something, anything. "He wants you."

"I don't think so," you muttered, "but I'll tell him to lay off a bit. He's still my friend."

"Hm."

It was a quiet hum, like an unfinished conversation he'd store off to get back to. He'd make you realize that friend of yours liked you soon enough, but for now he was content with your acknowledgement. He was content altogether, the subtle stirring in his stomach halting. It made him feel sick earlier.

You made him feel sick.

It unsettled him when he hurt you in some manner, intentional or not. Usually it didn't matter, and the teasing breeze of an arrow near your face meant little to him. It was entirely full of trust. This was different, and he couldn't help himself from leaning toward your outstretched hand, head cocked and bent toward you like a flower in the wind.

Images occasionally flashed through his head. A bigger wound, your blood soaking his sheets entirely. He found himself not liking them. Your warmth was something he sought out more than he thought. It both disgusted and intrigued him.

And he’d never utter the words, but the knife reminded him of you. Your resilience despite how difficult he was. Your intricacy. Its wholeness was a reminder that you cared for him, and he, just slightly, was compelled to do the same for you.

When you left his house he washed the sheets but left the blade untouched. Some of your blood had seeped in its engravings, and he could only stare at its deeply rooted lines before closing it again. Flick.

[russellsppttemplates]

What we have is worth fighting for (Lance Stroll)

Lance's lifestyle seems so different to your own that your mind has no other place to go other than doubt

Note: english is not my first language. Here's some Lance for you. And also a topic that whenever I have way too much time, I sometimes think about and I have yet to reach a proper conclusion. Do I like how this turned out? I'm not sure

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: reader has worries and negative thoughts that could be associated with anxiousness

"Do you have time to go to my place for a bit? I know you have an early morning tomorrow.", Lance pointed out despite wanting to enjoy your company for a little longer. Looking at your wristwatch, you debated it, figuring that, realistically, another night where you slept a little bit less was not going to make a difference considering you hadn't slept the recommended amount of hours since you were a teenager, "I have time", you smiled, allowing Lance to open the door on the passengers' side of his car so you could get in.

It was not the first time you had been in his car on your way to his place. From the beggining, you understood that while Lance had a very public job, he preferred to keep the other parts of his life on the private side, hence the fact that you had kept your dates as private as possible, in smaller places in town that you knew of and between your flat and his place. You sat in his big sofa after leaving your shoes at the door, making yourself as comfortable as you could while he went to the laundry room, mentioning something about a blanket he had spilled some tea on.

"The stain is cleaned, so, there you go", Lance announced, arriving with the soft material in his arm and giving it to you, "do you want some tea? I think I found the one we had at your place last week", he offered, accepting your nod, "yes, please", and heading for his kitchen.

Looking around, you couldn't help the curiosity that came over you as you looked at all the picture frames while laying the blanket on top of your legs. Some family holidays, you presumed, with Lance and his sister playing in snow in some pictures, but also some with a beautiful beach in the background. The pictures with a city background made it harder for you to guess where it was, some aspects allowing you to distinguish between probable different continents given the architectural design of the buildings, but still not enough to list all of them. "Don't look to close or you might start loosing interest", Lance startled you as he walked with two steaming mugs, setting them on the coasters on the coffee table in front of you.

Blushing for being caught, you thanked him and held the mug between your hands, taking a sip from it as you expected him to pick up on any subject we'd want to talk about. Lately, every day you had spent some time with Lance, it usually ended up in either of your places, just talking while having some form of snack or drinks. He was definitely not who you expected to click with, much less with how quick it happened. You felt yourself roll your eyes everytime you thought about it, but he was the picture you imagined whenever someone questioned you about the qualities in the partner you were looking for.

"I think it's time for me to go home", you admitted reluctantly, realising that if you didn't, you would suffer the consequences while you were attending lectures, "let me take you then", Lance smiled, patting his thighs and getting up while you folded the blanket. "No, no need, I can just call an Uber, I-", you were interrupted by Lance, "Nonsense, I suggested we come here, and I have the time, I'll do it", he noted, grabbing his car keys once he put his shoes on and leading the way.

.

"Hey, are you having a good day? I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time", Lance asked over the phone, the sound of the blinker allowing you to presume he was driving, "hello! I've had a full day, I'm leaving the library now - thank you, see you tomorrow -, sorry, I was just talking to the desk lady, but yes, it's been work heavy, but I got all of it done", you smiled and sighed, the tiredness overcoming your body as you walked down the stairs.

"That's good, Y/N, that's amazing!", he reinforced, "how would you feel about having something to eat together? I know you probably don't want to go anywhere, so how about I get us some take away and I meet you at your place?", he offered, making you feel warm and fuzzy inside. Given your busy schedule and how tired you got when it all piled up, it was not easy for some of your friends to understand that you preferred to stay in instead of going out.

"That's a nice plan. I'm going home now, so I'll meet you there? I just have to change out of these clothes so I look a little bit more presentable", you chuckled, "I'm sure you look the prettiest", he urged over the phone, "I'm going to call and make the order and then I'll let you know when I'm heading to your place", he finished, bidding goodbye to eachother as you walked home.

Walking inside your small flat, you thanked your past self for having taken care of cleaning it during the weekend, only having to put away some textbooks and some folders so the papers wouldn't be floating around the living room. It didn't take long before Lance texted you saying he already had the food with him and that he was making his way to your place.

You were setting the table when you heard the knock on the door, looking around and checking if anything else was misplaced before opening the door, "hey! Come in", you urged him, seeing Lance carrying two bags of food, "can you bring those to the table, please? I'll just leave my shoes and coat here", he smiled charmingly, doing so while you carried the bags to the table, wondering what he could've possibly bought that was so heavy.

"I'm here!", Lance approached you, kissing your cheek and showing you a small bunch of flowers, "the shop by the restaurant only had these left, they were just about to close and the lady made them look as pretty as possible", be smiled, handing you the nice smelling flowers, "Oh, I wasn't expecting these, thank you!", you smiled, kissing his cheek and he took the opportunity to squeeze you into a hug, "it's alright", he forwarded, "Shall we eat though? I'm quite hungry, and I bet you are too, so I got a little portion of a few things from this italian that is really really good. I went there with my sister when she and her husband visited and they loved it, too!", he said as he took the take out boxes from the paper bags.

Despite there being a lot of different starters and main dishes, they had been perfectly portioned so they would satisfy both of you and not leave any leftovers, "Oh, try this! It's incredible", you mentioned, swirling your fork so you could gather the pasta and forming a shell with your hand so the sauce wouldn't drip and you could give it to Lance, not even thinking about how the gesture would be perceived. Quickly, Lance ate the forkful and groaned, not seeming to have minded it, "it tastes amazing! But is is better than this one?", he quirked, doing the same wirh his fork and feeding you a ravioli, smiling when he noticed your puffed out cheeks blowing air so it wouldn't be as hot.

Like usual, conversation flowed easily and you had a great night, ending up sitting together on your sofa and had slowly inched closer to one another, "today really tired you out, hm? Do you want me to leave?", Lance said, noticing you were nearly falling asleep on his shoulder, "no, don't leave", you quickly replied, "but yes, I had a lot to get through", you noted, feeling his head turn to look at you, "what tasks did you so then? Is it that research project?", he curiously asked. Looking back up at him, you listed all the things you had done, "we got to the next phase already, so that's been good, but also more work. Then some spreadsheets where I almost lost my mind, but some video on YouTube explained it, so that was sorted", you said, "and that was it. I know it sounds like I didn't do much, but it did consume some energy", you blushed, "Why would you say that? You are in front of all these projects and making sure things are running smoothly. That's not an easy job, you should be proud of yourself, like I am", he tempted. It wasn't the first time he had said something like that, and he hoped you were starting to catch up on his intentions. It was hard to deny the attraction he felt for you, but also how you just clicked. Lance hadn't felt like that about someone in a really long time, where he thought that someone could be it in the long run. While he didn't want to come on too strong or feel like he was on a clock, he also wanted to make sure you knew where he stood when it came to you.

"You are?", you questioned, maybe a bit too strong for the average person's liking, but it was not a word you heard everyday, much less a feeling you knew people had for you. "Yes, I'm very proud of you. Of what you're doing and how you're doing it", Lance looked straight into your eyes, "I'm also growing very fond of you. I really like you, Y/N", he gazed between your lips and your eyes.

"I really like you too, Lance", you whispered, afraid to disturb if you spoke to loud you'd ruin the moment, pushing your face closer to his so you could show him that if he wanted to, you were all in as well.

The Canadian driver took this opportunity to cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb on your clean cheek before he pressed his lips to yours, lips moudling perfectly with one another. Smiling within the kiss, you wetr the first to break it off for air, looking up at him, "seems we're on the same page then".

You spent the rest of the night basking in eachothers affection, feeling brave enough to do so now that you both knew how the other felt and enjoying how it made you feel until Lance had to leave, "tomorrow has an early start for me, so I better get going", he groaned, getting up from the sofa and holding his hand out, making you attach your hand to his. Thinking he was just helping you up, you were surprised when he pushed you up with enough strength to face his, chest to chest so he could kiss your forehead, "C'mon, I want to help you tidy the kitchen before I leave", he smiled, guiding you both to the room in question so you could do so.

Lance had already left with a kiss of goodnight and a promise he would text you when he got gome, leaving you to close the apartment and also get ready for bed. Walking out of the kitchen, you noticed that you had left one of the paper bags on the floor, grabbing it so you could fold it for another time when you heard some wrinkling. Inside, the noise belonged to the receipt of the order, and you grabbed it mindlessly and a little curious. The food was great, you recognised, but the price Lance paid for a middle of the week take away was out of whatever you could have imagined. He insisted he wanted to pay for it all, despite you saying that you should at least pay your half, and now you couldn't help but think how normal and fine it had been for him to just swipe his card and pay for it. Probably like the no big deal that it was for him.

.

Lance was away for a race weekend, and despite the busy schedule, he still found time to videocall you, always looking forward to hearing how your day went and what you had been up to, "we just started on the data collection, and it's going really well. It's not some groundbreaking thing right now, but it's going somewhere, I can feel it", you smiled, "and you? The car seemed good today", you asked him, seeing his smile that went immediately to your stomach, butterflies erupting into a dance.

"Yes, it was incredible! It finally feels like we have a car that can takes us to the podium of the championship, you know? It's a pleasure to drive and the track is awesome!", he beamed, "I just wish you were here with me to experience it all, the city's really cool too", he offered, listing a few activities he had done and places he had seen.

There was another thing that got your mind spinning. As much as you didn't like to admit it, those thoughts had been plaguing your mind for a few days now. If there was some scale to assess it, you're Lance's lifestyle and your own would be pretty far from eachothers. He spent the better part of his year travelling around the world, staying in the most luxurious hotels and enjoying the most incredible experiences. On your end, you were lucky if you got enough time to take some time off and away from all the work. If this was to go further, your schedule and your lifestyle wouldn't allow you to be the partner that travels to nearly all the races or the one that is seen strutting around the paddock in the most lavish outfits. Would that be an obstacle in the relationship you were building with Lance? Should you start backing out now?

"Hey, Y/N?", he called, "is everything okay? I think I lost you there for a bit", he smiled, teasing you even though there was also a slight concern, "are you too tired? I probably shouldn't have called so late, right?", he forwarded. Despite not wanting him to feel guilty about it, you took the opportunity since your mind wasn't settling, "don't feel guilty, Lance. I haven't been sleeping well these past few nights and it's catching up on me", you half lied, "but I think I might have an early night today, see if sleep comes around", you smiled genuinely at the screen as you saw his features soften, "alright, sweetheart. Have a good sleep", he softly said, blowing you a kiss while you did the same, dialing off the call and pressing the phone to your chest.

Would this feeling on your chest ever settle down? Would your mind stop racing about thoughts about why you'd never fit in Lance's life? The worry grew even bigger, considering you were probably not going to fall asleep for a while.

.

Sitting at Lance's dining table after spending the entire afternoon with him, you tried your best to mask the thoughts that had been plaguing you and that you hadn't managed to shut off. But apparently, not with enough skill, "there's something worrying you, I can tell that much", he noted, "is it something I can help you with? Also totally okay if you don't want to talk about it, but I don't like seeing you so stressed", he launched his hand so it would land on top of yours, softly caressing the skin.

"Can I be really honest with you about what has been bothering me?", you asked, already knowing this would be an important conversation and no matter where it ended up going, it needed to happen sooner rather than later, "sure, Y/N, absolutely", he assured, growing a little bit more concerned at your tone.

"I don't fit in this, Lance", you began, gesturing your hands around, "your world is so different than mine in so many ways, I could never fit in it", you gulped, "you were just saying earlier this afternoon that maybe it was time for us to take the next step, and I don't know if I can", you stopped to gather your thoughts.

"It's okay if you're not ready, I'll wait. And I didn't want to pressure you, I'm sorry if it felt like that", Lance was quick to say, an expression of guilt somehow in his features.

"No, it's not because I don't have feelings for you, because they're here, they're very much here!", you chuckled nervously, "I just don't think I fit in your life like it was supposed to be, like it's expected", you mumbled the last part, forcing yourself to look at him. It pained you as well, because the look on his face was also painful. He wasn't expecting you to feel like this, so much so that there was little to ask but "did I do something to make you feel like that?", still not sure if it was what he wanted to ask.

"No, it's just that our worlds are different. You paid the equivalent of my university monthly tuition for a dinner that was lovely, but still! That's how different we are, we don't align", you gestured, "I could never be the partner you need. My schedule could never be the same if you wanted me to be at races, because I can't be travelling here and there every weekend. And I'm not someone who attends galas and fancy dinners", you hiccuped, the pressure on your throat building up. Even though you had this perspective, it didn't mean that your feelings were on the same page as it.

"And don't take this the wrong way. I have loved every moment we've spent together, and everything you've done for me. And I'm not blaminh you. Your parents did everything they could for your best, and that's not a bad thing. Don't think I'm pointing fingers because I'm not, it's a privilege you have and it is no one's business, much less my business either. But I don't have it", you let out a shuddered breath.

Lance was at a loss for words, gathering his thoughts before he said something that might come out the wrong way, "and is that something that is a deal breaker?", he asked, "Isn't it? I'm not the person people like you go after. Take a look at everyone on the paddock. All the wives and girlfriends are the opposite of me. Anyone you're supposed to be seen with, to have some sort of a relationship with, they're not me, they're not what you think whenever you imagine someone who relates to you in some way", you gulped again, the tears now clouding you eyes.

"You see, Y/N, it's because of those things that I know we have something good. I don't give a care about what other people think who I should have a relationship with. I never wanted someone according to whatever standard, much less after I met you", he smiled, "you are a breath of fresh air in my life, and I needed that so blady. You showed me that there's so much more to love. You have listened to me, you've been there for the highs and the lows, you've allowed me inside your life and showed me the force of nature that you are", he tempted your hand, lacing his fingers with yours, "yes, all of those scenarios are frequent in my life, and I understand that I'm not around as much as other partners, but it will be my biggest mistake if I let you go without a fight, without showing you that what we have is too good to go", he urged you to look at him, lowering his head so he could catch your eyes and bring your eyelines up a little.

"You know, I texted you during the breaks between free practices and my mother commented that she finally found out why I was so happy, all because I was smiling at the picture you sent me from the library", he smiled, blush covering his cheeks, "and, while we are on this, I'm not going to pretend that I don't have the money, because I have. And I don't pay for things to show it off, I do it because I can and it allows me to show people that I care about them", he explained, "if I ever made you feel uncomfortable because of it, it wasn't intentional. I don't need big plans to feel good with you. I'm happy just sitting next to you on the sofa while we watch some TV or while you read some books", he shrugged, "I'm not even a fan of those big events myself, so I wouldn't want you to be one.

"All I know is that I think we're good together, and I want this to work so bad. I want to be with you if you'll allow me", he squeezed your hand, "or, at least, allow me to show you that what we have is good and that it is worth fighting for", he finished.

You felt somewhat guilty for how you felt about it, even though you also knew you weren't being unreasonable, "I'm sorry, but it was eating me away and, yeah, I didn't know how to go about it", you gestured between your bodies, seeing Lance open his arms so you could sit in his lap, "it's okay, I'm glad we talked about it and everything is clarified. We can always talk about these things, I'm very happy that we did. Even though I'm a little saddened that you think so low of yourself, Y/N", he flicked your hair behind your ear, "you're so amazing, you don't even know it. Your passion about your work, the way you love other people, the way you care about them. All of your concerns that you're not like the others? It's what makes me love you even more, what makes me want this, us, to be it", he smiled, kissing your nose when he saw your smile, moving to kiss your lips multiple times, "now, I've admitted verbally that I love you two times, and I'm yet to know how this goes", he teased.

Smiling again, you craddled Lance's face in your hands, "In case I wasn't clear, I love you too", you giggled, "Good. That's good. I will make it my mission to make sure you know it everyday, but until then, I will enjoy having my girlfriend in my arms", he mumbled, pulling you closer to him, "it's a good thing we are both homebodies then".

[arthrobug]

Here I go, over-analyzing a singular scene from Captain Laserhawk, and of course it's Rayman!

Minor nudity/minor sexual talk warning!

So this absolutely famous scene, am I right?

Few hours ago, I started thinking about every single thing Rayman had done in Captain Laserhawk, and how I could analyze it.

And so I realized a few things about this moment, or I just overthought a few things in this moment, but ANYWAYS!-

This particular practice is called Nyotaimori -Nantaimori for male models- and it's translation can be dumbed down to 'body sushi'. It's the Japanese practice of eating food, primarily sushi, off of a female model.

At first, I had this idea: "Hey, what if Rayman deciding to hire a Nyotaimori model is one of the ways he tries to futilely connect to others?" Here's a few notes as to why I thought this:

It's been clearly stated that Rayman is incredibly lonely, and there are a few scenes and things he does that shows he's a bit desperate for any sort of interaction. I mean, even if he was drunk and coked up off his rocker, he still listened to an ominous message on his TV and willingly went to go talk to a 'terrorist', and even was minorly friendly with Bullfrog even though they had just met. Rayman was also still under the impression that the hybrid was a terrible person that just happened to be a bit nice, but he still continued to talk to him even though he really had no primary reason to other than 'talk to the frog'.

Someone -even though it's a paid interaction- willingly undressing themselves to be completely nude and allowing you to eat food off of them while they lay on their stomach is a very intimate (non-sexual) thing. It could be a non-verbal feeling of trust that Rayman gains from engaging in this practice. He might not even know her name, but he might believe that she trusts he won't hurt her.

Rayman doesn't seem necessarily sexual with this model, he's just eating and watching television. Of course, he could've done something more sensual and/or sexual with this model before he saw his copy on the big screen, but we will likely never know if he did, so the assumption that he hadn't is more prominent. His goal with this practice wasn't for sexual gratification, it's just to have someone be there, whether they want to or not.

And so, I decided to do some more research on Nyotaimori, and even more things were brought to my attention. The main point I gather from this is:

This is a very unprofessional and likely unregulated meeting.

There are actually a lot of rules usually strictly set in businesses that sell Nyotaimori!

Sushi should not be placed directly on the body. There should be some form of divider, like a banana leaf or plastic wrapping. The model Rayman is eating off of clearly has no divider whatsoever. Additionally, you're usually not allowed to touch the model whatsoever. Rayman didn't touch her in this scene, but it just adds to the 'I don't think he was sexual or sensual with her'. (He's was 100% a rule-follower to the end at this point... Other than hard drugs.)

Not too surprising, but there are indeed body regulations (what a person's body should look like). Although the idea isn't surprising, the main regulation itself is. A model shouldn't be big-breasted, they aim for smaller cupped women, 'so the sushi doesn't roll off'. The model seemingly has very large breasts, although that could be the reason why she's on her stomach, but that's another issue.

As mentioned, the model is on her stomach. Nyotaimori models are placed on their backs, and actually have some form of covering most of the time! Shells, thongs, petals, and as seen with this model, some flowers! Another thing however, is that she's very nonchalant. She's swinging her legs, eating an olive, and subtly reacts to Rayman when he sees his look-alike. Models aren't allowed to react to what their patrons do, unless they are being incredibly inappropriate towards them.

The areas where models and their patron(s) are going to be eating/sitting still for very long periods at are set up meticulously, even in at-home sessions. In the background, you can subtly see a bra on the couch and possibly a pair of underwear hanging from a lamp, these are highly likely to be the model's. It's seemingly a very messy meeting, which is unusual.

SO! I can make the assumption from all this is that: This hybrid cow is a beginner model and doesn't care too much about professionalism; the business she works for just doesn't care, OR she's just some joe schmoe (which is a very unsettling idea to be honest) and was casually up for Rayman eating sushi off her ass and back, OR Eden's regulations for Nyotaimori are incredibly lax.

What does that all lead up to? Still the first idea: Rayman is desperate for any form of connection, even if they don't talk to him. He just wants someone to be there, whether they actually care about him or not.

This idea also contributes to how he stayed under the Council's clutches for so long. They gave him attention. Although they were definitely the reason he's needy for any type of attention, they gave him their eyes consistently sparingly and convinced him that was all he was ever going to get.

And tying this to his first interaction with Bullfrog and how he turned against Eden so quick and didn't just adamantly deny Bullfrog's vision, Bullfrog gave him the most neutral attention he has ever received in decades.

Not overly positive attention like he gets on his show (which definitely is fake to him), and not suffocatingly negative attention that the Council and some speciest people like Red have shown him- Bullfrog gave Rayman his real, raw attention, and it's probably going to be become like a drug to him.

[wanderingaldecaldo]

WIP Whenever on a Wednesday

I am terrible at keeping up with tags in general but I am aghast to see my oldest WIP Whenever tag was from nearly 8 weeks ago. I completed a couple of things since my last one, namely the sock garters and the boots, and added quite a few more projects to the list than I scratched off. 😩

Tagged by (and tagging back) @fly-amanitaa @streetkid-named-desire @ouroboros-hideout @aggravateddurian @luvwich

@ghostoffuturespast. Also tagging with the usual zero pressure @olath124 @dustymagpie @medtech-mara @corpo-cunt-couture

@merge-conflict @blackrevell @fereldanwench and YOU reading this! Share and tag me!

Modding

Shocking that it's still my main focus 🙄 but the first one is in support of a couple of VP project:

Presidential Props which include a variety of flags and the NUSA medal with box. The flags are part of the VP set below, though I didn't actually show them here.

Featuring: five different flag varieties with five appearances each; medal box in multiple states, plus the medal itself; and the presidential coin, scalable and with multiple appearances.

SlutWear, a new line of clothing that will tell NC just how slutty your V is. It will be gender and (smaller) size inclusive. 😊

Does Val really heart NC?

An update of my tee framework for dynamic AXL just in time for Pride, though there are no interesting pics to share. Sorry!

However, in support of the previous two items, a modder's tool: a CodePen to generate instances for the yaml. Both the SlutWear shirt(s) and the custom logo tees will require a lot of instances to get all of the color and logo combinations that are possible through dynamic AXL. There's still a little work to do, but it's already been of great use to me, as it wrote 220 lines of code for me. Let's not discuss how many lines of code I wrote to save those 220. 😂

Me using the tool to generate instances for the custom tees yaml. This will remove the limit on colors available to the user, so they can have any color with any of the logos!

VP (and Writing)

A glimpse at a set I took last week for inspo in the presidential PWP that's been stalled out at 5.7k words. More on it in a minute...

Even though the pics are cropped, they're still on the risque side, so I'm sticking them and the rest about the PWP behind the cut.

Not shown: Johnny both rolling his eyes at V and enjoying the show

I've been working on a PWP that was unrelated to the President's Merc AU for months now, but have been stuck because, well, I don't know how to wrap it up. I posted about it a little ways back and someone helpfully suggested that I just have to keep going until one of them passes out. Which, is what does happen, but I don't have that kind of patience to write it out and nearly 6k words is already well longer than my usual PWP, so I went in game to set the scene and possible prompt some ideas for a potenial ... climax to the scene.

It worked! I have a plan, and I think it won't take more than 500 words to reach the end, plus a few more touch-ups to help set up everything, then a rewrite or two for cleaning and polishing.

In the meantime, as I've been working through this version of Val and how she responds to Rosalind, it's the perfect prologue to The Tower story that I've been writing longhand. Val is going to leave this encounter fully loyal to Rosalind and will turn So Mi over with only a moment's hesitation. She doesn't have any attachments in this universe other than Misty and Vik, and after she wakes up to what Night City has become, it's easy for her to walk away from it forever. Especially when it puts her closer to Rosalind.

What about you? What are you working on? 👀

[analogwriting]

Star-Crossed

Chapter 13: širdies

Donquixote Rosinante x gn!reader word count: 2.2k a/n: this one is a bit smaller than usual and it's a lil uneventful. kind of a filler chapter as i set grounds for the next one lmao first|next

You're not exactly sure when you fell asleep - well, more than likely, passed out, but when you woke up, you found yourself in your room at Pops’ house. It makes sense Marco brought you here. You probably weren't safe in your own place. You had no idea who would come after you or even if anyone would come after you. People didn’t typically know where Pops’ lived and he’s been out of the scene long enough that they should leave him alone for the most part.

You just hoped that they wouldn’t drag him into your mess like you had everyone else.

That, and being alone probably wasn't the best idea. This way Marco could keep an eye on you and make sure you didn't run off. He was well aware of your bad habits; take just the other night for example. He didn’t want to have to hunt you down again. He’d already done that once this week. You only did it once in a blue moon, but this way he could prevent it from happening in the same week. 

You sighed, putting your head in your hands. You weren't even sure how long it had been since you , but it was dark outside. You rolled over and glanced to your tableside; the clock read three in the morning and your phone laid there with a shattered screen. You didn’t even bother trying to see if it worked. Who did you have to get a hold of right now? All you needed was Pops and Marco and they were both in this house. You’d replace it eventually.

But not right now. 

The events replayed in your head. You hoped everyone was able to make it out okay. As much as you didn’t trust Doflamingo or your own father now; Crocodile seemed like the kind of man who would at least keep his end of a bargain. If not, you would unleash hell. You had no problem taking all of them down or die trying.

After all, you had nothing left to lose now.

You sighed, laying on your back and staring at the ceiling. What were you to do now? You didn’t have the hospital. You had gotten Corazon shot. You dragged innocent people into your own mess that you created by being an absolute idiot. 

Why did you think you could have it all? Leaving your father’s family and still keeping a good relationship with him? Being able to have the hospital but also aiding those who were injured and helping others escape from the hell that was that lifestyle with no consequence? 

You were Icarus and flew too close to the sun. Everything you had worked so hard for - gone in an instant.

You felt a headache come forth and you knew you’d cry if you had any tears left at this point. Exhaustion was creeping back into your very being. It wasn’t long before you fell back asleep.

--

The following week, you hardly left your room or your bed. Hell, you hardly even ate. You just didn't have the energy to do anything besides sleep. When you were awake, you were plagued by your own thoughts of what happened and how you have nothing now. It just wasn't something you could deal with - you still had a hard time believing it. It was easier to sleep - especially when you didn’t even dream. It was just an endless black void and you welcomed it with open arms.

Marco basically had to drag you out of bed to make you shower, but you went right back into bed afterwards. He tried to talk to you, as did Pops, but you didn't provide much of a conversation, so they both ended up just leaving you alone for the most part. 

You heard the door open and the smell of food. It made you sick to your stomach, but one could also argue that you probably felt that way because you haven't been eating. “I’m not hungry, Marco,” you mumbled from your blanket cocoon.

“Yeah, he mentioned that you might say that,” a voice mumbled that was very much not Marco - or Pops for that matter.

You sat up quickly, squinting in the dark room to see who it was. You recognized his voice, but you just couldn't believe it for some reason. 

“Rosinante?”

You felt your face heat up and honestly you didn't know why. Quickly, you turned on the lamp on your bedside, hissing at the light. You’d hardly seen any in the last week anyway. “What are you doing here?”

“I might have begged Marco to let me come visit…” The man made his way over to you and that feeling struck you again. You went to move to catch him, only to get tangled up in your blankets and crash to the floor the same time he did. 

“Ah, fuck.” You slowly pushed your way up off the ground, only to realize something.

You froze in place the moment you sat up and realized he was under you. Your entire body suddenly felt like it was on fire. “Oh my god, I am so sorry,” you mumbled, scrambling to move off of him. “Are you okay?”

You remembered his wound, sitting back slightly and lifting his shirt without thinking. “How are you healing?” 

“If you wanted me alone in your room with my shirt off you could've just asked,” he teased, nervously grinning at you with red cheeks. Your eyes widened and you covered your face. 

“Oh my god. I'm so sorry.” For fuck’s sake. A week was all it took for you to forget how to interact with others? 

He slowly sat up, chuckling as he did so. You slid into his lap as he moved, not removing your hands. You were too embarrassed to even look at the man.

He removed your hands from your face and you looked up at him, face red. “I'm healing fine, thank you.” His expression was soft as he took your face in his hands with a gentle smile. Your eyes widened as you looked at him, heart beginning to run wild.

“Are you okay?” 

Then it was as if the floodgates opened. So much for thinking that you ran out of tears because you had plenty now as they started falling down your face. Dammit. Doesn’t he know that he’s not supposed to ask a question like that? 

“I'm so sorry, Rosinante,” you said softly. “I’m sorry that I dragged you into all of this.” You pulled your face out of his hands only for them to find your face again so you had to look at him. You averted your eyes, refusing to look at him.

“Look at me.” His gentle demand made your heart lurch and your gaze shifted to him in surprise.

His expression was still soft, tone still gentle. “You didn’t drag me into anything, y/n.” 

“Y-Yes, I did.” You hiccuped slightly from your sobs. “You were out. You were free from all of this. I shouldn’t have even tried to entertain the idea of us. I should’ve known it’d be dangerous. I’m so-”

“Y/n.” You stopped, sniffling as you looked up at him. 

“None of that is your fault. You didn’t know that your own father would betray you.” Marco had filled him in on all the details of what had actually happened, unbeknownst to you. “You didn’t know that he was going to team up with my brother. You didn’t know they’d take over your hospital and use us as collateral.”

“Yeah, but-”

“But nothing. Yes. I got out, but I also know that things can catch up with me at any moment, just as you do. One can never really leave this life and all that, right?” You just looked at him, trying to find the words to say. You didn’t know why he wasn’t mad at you. He was just…so kind and you didn’t understand. It just felt like it’d be easier if he just hated you, then you wouldn’t have to deal with all these other complex feelings.

“Not only all that, but I still made my decision even after finding out who you were, remember? Sure, it took me a minute. Mostly because I was embarrassed for having made an ass of myself that night. Law was trying to get me to talk to you the whole time. I’m pretty sure he was ready to have my head.” He made a sheepish expression as if he was apologizing to the young man in his head for that one.

“I don’t give a shit where you’re from - I’m from that same place. I’d be hypocritical if I judged you for it. We’re in this together now. I mean. Well, uhm. If you want,” he mumbled, rambling a bit towards the end, his face slowly turning red.

You had stopped crying at this point, honestly just taken aback by his words. Your heart was beating so fast as you sat there, in his lap, with your face in his large hands. You could read between his ramblings. 

He was right, though. You didn’t necessarily drag him into anything. He had been the one to take the initiative. Hell, he was even going to ask him out before your father showed up. You had planned on telling him everything if things did end up getting serious. If he had asked you out that day, you would’ve immediately told him everything. You hadn’t planned on lying to him at all - you believed in full transparency. Especially since he was from the same background as you. 

The way he found out was unplanned, but it was going to happen all the same. 

He had come back. You thought it was only because he found out that you were also the person who saved Law, but he had hardly mentioned that. Law had even confirmed that it wasn’t because of that. It was just shit timing from when they found out and when he was ready to confront all his feelings. Everything seemed to be happening out of order and now you were trying to put the pieces together.

You moved without much thought, kissing him hard. He made a small noise of surprise, but was quick to melt into it. Your arms slipped around his neck as his found their way around your waist. It was getting hot and heavy quickly, but you knew you couldn’t go too far since you were in Pops’ house and you would rather die than get caught by him or Marco.

You pulled away, both of you panting heavily as you tried to catch your breaths. Corazon rested his forehead on yours, looking deep into your eyes. You finally spoke after a moment. “Yes. We’re in this together.” You supposed you should answer the sentiment he had stumbled over earlier.

He chuckled softly, pressing another soft kiss to your lips. “Good because I’d be real sad if otherwise.” You snorted, rolling your eyes. He was such a goober, but it was cute.

You thought for a moment, frowning slightly. This was great and all, but…where did you go from here? You could start dating, yes. This was one thing solved. There were still tons of things you had to deal with. You had to get your hospital back somehow. You also needed some answers from Pops. It was time you found out exactly what happened between him and your father. You needed to make sure all your staff were safe. Obviously Corazon and the boys were safe, but you needed to know about everyone else as well.

You had let everything get to you. You had fallen off the deep end, but you were back now thanks to Corazon’s help. Only…you had no idea where to begin.

You suddenly felt him press a kiss to your forehead and you looked up at him. “I can see that big brain of yours is back in business,” he said with a large, goofy grin. You felt your heart start racing again. Fuck, he was beautiful. He stood up, picking you up with him. Luckily for him, Pops was also a very large man, so all the ceilings in this home were tall. He could stand with ease.

“However, it’s late. There isn’t much we can do now. Why don’t you sleep on it, let your thoughts organize, and we can figure things out in the morning, hm?” He slipped into bed with you and you felt your face warm up. 

“If your goal was to get into bed with me the whole time, you could’ve just asked,” you mused, using his words from earlier. This time he went red. “That’s not…uh…”

You laughed, settling into the bed and pulling him with you. “I know, I know. Now c’mere.” You could already feel the exhaustion from the crying and from your brain turning back on. He was right, you needed a good night's sleep before you started tackling this absolute shitshow that you needed to deal with. You’d waited this long, what was a few more hours?

The moment you felt Corazon pull you in and wrap himself around you - you were out like a light.

-----

first|next

[hmserebusadjacent]

Don't have to be ok

I came up with the idea for this story this morning, and wanted to write and post it within a day to give myself a little boost after a rough start to the week. Reading this back, I realised this story is essentially me projecting my need to be comforted by Emmrich. But I hope you find the story enjoyable nonetheless.

So please enjoy Emmrich comforting Rook, saying that he doesn't have to be ok, that he will always be there for him.

Emmrich Volkarin x Trans Male Rook (Pining, longing, comfort, implied gender dysphoria on Rook's part, cloud gazing).

Word count: 2,677

AO3 link

Rook hadn't been his usual self today. He'd drifted off into the recesses of his own mind so often that each time it felt harder for Emmrich to pull him back. There was so much anxiety stored in the way Rook fussed with his hair or pulled at the fingers on his gloves, all of that energy just pouring out into his aura too.

Emmrich wasn't the only one to notice, of course. Davrin kept on shooting Rook sideways glances and then looking to Emmrich as if he had the answers. For once, Emmrich didn't have many words to give. It was the subtler signs that also gave him pause, like the way Rook fussed with the way his clothes hung around his hips and thighs. The way he had chewed the inside of his lips so much that Emmrich wouldn't be surprised if it was bleeding.

The necromancer couldn't blame their fearless leader for feeling the strain of leadership, helping to keep his team alive and stopping the world from ending. All that would have been enough but Rook also had to worry about not going mad from anxiety, grief, stress, any of the above or indeed every emotion under the sun. 

He couldn't blame Rook for having off days at all. He just wished he knew how to help better. To ease the strain even if he couldn't shoulder any of it. Emmrich did try, he really did. From ensuring Rook slept well, ate well and always being a willing ear if Rook needed to talk to someone about anything or nothing.

It was the least he could do for the man who had given his life purpose, for reminding him that life could be lived with other people rather than with the dead who no longer needed the spark of existence. Rook truly enlivened Emmrich Volkarin, and maybe one day he would have the courage to tell him.

And to tell him that he loved him above all things too. More than he had ever loved anyone before.

And when he held Rook in his arms whilst they hugged, or when Rook linked arms with him whilst they walked, or when they shared those late evenings chatting about everything and nothing over tea, Emmrich knew that this was what he wanted for the rest of his life.

To be his, in whatever form that took. If Rook also wanted to be his? It would be the happiest day of Emmrich’s life if he found out that Rook liked him half as much as he liked him.

When Rook designated their camping spot for the night, Emmrich's heart clenched with just how tired and fatigued Rook looked. Not just emotionally but physically, and the way he dropped his bag to the floor with a final thud made the mage’s heart jump in his chest.

“Will you two be alright setting up the smaller stuff while I have some time to myself?”, Rook asked, gaze almost pleading even as he willed something like a reassuring smile to his lips.

A niggling voice in the back of Emmrich’s mind said that Rook shouldn’t be by himself, even if he needed it. Maybe it was partly his perpetual need to have Rook in sight so that all felt right with the world.

But he also recognised that Rook had done more than enough today. They had walked miles and Rook hadn’t once complained, even with the evidence of his fatigue present in the dark rings under his eyes. If Rook needed time away from he and Davrin to recharge, to remind himself of where he was in the world, then that was what would happen.

“Of course. Do let us know if you need anything, Rook. We’re here for you.”

Rook’s bottom lip trembled at that, as if he might burst into tears and just give in to the reckless abandon of exhausted crying. But instead he smiled and gave Davrin a nod, and his gaze lingered on Emmrich for longer than it had their companion when he said

“Thank you. I won’t be far.”

When Rook had disappeared off with a blanket under his arm, Emmrich turned back to Davrin to find the elf giving him a look he knew very well by this point. All of the others had sent it his way too, and Emmrich felt his cheeks flushing with heat and just how very obvious he seemed to be. Well, obvious to everyone but Rook, apparently.

Trying to push his worries of Rook to the side for a moment (and failing miserably), Emmrich dived into getting their camp set up, casting glances in the direction that Rook had walked off in every so often.

—----

Emmrich managed half an hour before his mind was worrying so much about Rook that he could barely sit still and allow himself to rest. He’d been counting the minutes, every one that Rook spent wherever he was making the mage’s gut clench with nerves.

“Go and see where he is. I think he would appreciate it”, Davrin announced from across the other side of camp, making Emmrich jump as he was pulled from his looping thoughts. That Davrin thought he would be the best one to comfort Rook was gratifying, that other people thought Emmrich himself made Rook feel so comforted and safe. 

He’d never take the trust Rook placed him and the strength he gained from their friendship lightly. If he could always use that power for good, Emmrich would be a happy man.

He also didn’t need to be told twice to go and check on Rook, finding his way to his feet almost instantaneously as the mage’s mind was already far ahead of him planning just what to say to their friend and leader.

It didn’t take long to find Rook, his energy seemingly having given out on him in a nice little clearing in the woods nearby. The clearing was so pleasingly symmetrical, a beautifully wide circle glade filled with all sorts of wildflowers and buzzing bees. In the middle of this haven was Rook, spread out on his blanket, silhouetted by the sun in a way that only made him look more beautiful. Rook looked so at home here, amongst the wildflowers and beauties of nature that he adored so much, one of the other myriad of things he indulged in to help keep himself sane. 

In that moment, Emmrich was visibly reminded of his wish to take Rook to see the gardens of Nevarra City when the lilies in the ponds were in bloom, to marvel at the brightly coloured fish that came up to the water’s surface to snap at insects. If Rook would allow him he would also take him to see some of the gardens in the Necropolis on the higher levels to see the gardens borne of love and kept going by ongoing devotion that Emmrich wished so badly to feel for his own. If Rook would indulge him, Emmrich would tuck a flower behind one of his pointed ears and lead him on a dance in the magelights he would conjure to light their impromptu ballroom. Maybe if he was lucky Rook would allow Emmrich to artfully drape him over the back of his knee at the end of it all, his eyes shining as they both came back together and chanced a glance down at the other’s lips…

“Emmrich? You ok over there?”

Shattered shards of his hopeful visions cracked apart in Emmrich’s mind as he remembered where he was, gaze focusing back on Rook more clearly and the look of soft amusement on his face. Had Emmrich been staring at him slack jawed for a little while then? It wouldn’t be the first time and it wouldn’t be the last.

“Ah, yes! I just wanted to ensure that you were alright. Perhaps ask if you wanted some company?”

The beaming smile Rook sent his way was so utterly bright compared to the thin lipped smiles the rogue had been putting on earlier. Like something had genuinely managed to lift his spirits in the last half an hour and seeing Emmrich again was the icing on the proverbial cake. Whatever the case was, Emmrich was just glad to see the man smiling and looking hopeful again. Maker, he looked pretty.

“You can cloud gaze with me, if you like. Come on over.”

Cloud gazing? Emmrich couldn’t remember the last time he had done that. The last time was probably with his mother, lying down on the ground on a picnic blanket as they both giggled to themselves over heart and nug shaped wisps of clouds. A time before he had come into his magic, even, before the whole world had taken on a different hue and cast different shadows across all of their lives.

“I’d love to!” Emmrich replied cheerfully, already making his way through the tall grass and flowers, trying his level best not to trip over or to disturb the fuzzy lazy bees too much. With every advancing step Rook came into even lovelier focus, a scabious flower to the left of his head making his eyes shine an even deeper blue. It didn’t seem possible that the space could be lightening too, that the rogue was making the sun shine brighter by his very joy at seeing Emmrich approaching him.

By the time Emmrich reached the blanket and the sitting Rook, his heart was beating out a joyous yet nervous rhythm against the inside of his ribs. How the rogue looked so effortlessly beautiful all the time was beyond Emmrich, having decided long ago to simply bask in the man’s magnificence whilst he could.

“Come on then, you”, Rook murmured as he patted the space on the blanket beside him and fuck did Emmrich want to swoon on so many levels. That their closeness meant he was described using such soft words, commanded with such a fond tone of voice. Besotted wasn't enough of a word to describe the feelings Emmrich had for Rook. Maybe there weren't words strong enough.

But if looks could convey even half of those feelings, Emmrich was sure he was showing them now as he gently lowered himself to sit beside Rook, immediately feeling more calm for being in his presence. As he studied the man across from him for a moment, it did genuinely seem that Rook had found solace in this little space. He couldn't take all the credit for this change, of course, but Emmrich hoped that he had contributed a fraction of that ease that Rook now felt within himself.

When Emmrich laid down fully on the comfortable blanket a minute later, he was more than settled in for the pair of them to remain where they were, to bask in their semi closeness where he could easily brush their hands together if they went to point at the same cloud.

But Rook surprised the mage once again by asking an earth shattering question.

“Would you hold my hand?”

Emmrich turned his attention from the sky and was almost immediately disarmed by the fond look in Rook’s eyes, the entire question such an open quest for comfort that Emmrich couldn’t resist. He put his romantic feelings aside for the moment as he nodded, hand inching across the blanket till he could feel Rook’s hand next to his. Emmrich wouldn’t describe himself as a particularly brave man, but the way he gently placed his hand on top of the rogue’s hand and laced their fingers together might be one of the bravest things he had ever done.

And Rook’s smile was more than worth the risk.

After that, it was just a case of both men turning their faces to the sky and watching the world go by. There were a number of clouds available for perusal, all being blown slowly across the expanse by a thermal wind much higher up. A collage of mist and cloud fluff that still couldn’t compare to the beauty of the man next to Emmrich.

Rook offered his first suggestion for a cloud lookalike, pointing upwards and to the left.

“If you squint, that one looks like a nug. I’ve heard that the Divine has all but filled the Grand Cathedral with the little buggers.”

“There’s got to be someone who adores those creatures, I suppose. Lake Calenhad looks a bit like a rabbit if you squint, or so I’ve been told”, Emmrich replied, glad to hear the little huff of a laugh Rook uttered under his breath.

As Emmrich pointed to a cloud to his right, he felt Rook squeeze his hand as if the rogue worried that the mage wanted to pull away.

“That one looks like an Ocularum. Researchers within the Inquisition produced a fascinating paper on them a few years ago”, Emmrich ventured, delighting in Rook’s smile of intrigue.

“I’ll have to look at it one day.”

The two men continued in this way for maybe ten minutes, occasionally lapsing into silence when no new shapes presented themselves. Emmrich was enjoying himself immensely, and it felt good to see that Rook was too. Sure he still had the dark rings under his eyes and his hand lingered nervously near his own hip sometimes, but the rogue did seem to be calmer and more present than he did before. He often squeezed Emmrich’s hand, and Emmrich was all too happy to provide reassurances that he was still there with him and present in the moment.

When Rook had lapsed into a longer silence than the others before it, Emmrich turned his head and found Rook still looking at the sky but with a bit more of a distant look on his face. Emmrich’s heart ached for him, it truly did, and he wanted to be exactly what Rook needed, whatever he needed.

In the end, Emmrich simply said

“Are you alright? You don’t have to be, you know. None of us would judge you for it.”

Rook’s lower lip trembled again as if he was on the verge of tears, the rogue gently biting down on it a moment later to stop it from shaking. A gloved hand went to cover his eyes for a moment as the man took a long, deep breath in and out. He was clearly grounding himself, and Emmrich didn’t want to disrupt that.

Eventually Rook lifted his hand away from his eyes and turned to look at Emmrich once more, a sad sort of resignation in his eyes.

“Today I’m not. But I’m happy to be here with you.”

The man's voice was distinctly wobbly, and Emmrich's heart knew exactly how that feeling felt. That Rook found his presence so comforting, that he was looking at him with such trust and fondness in his eyes was star shattering. That he allowed Emmrich to comfort him, asked him to hold his hand, made Emmrich feel just as safe and treasured in reverse!

Joy beyond description.

“I'll always be happy to be by your side”, Emmrich murmured, deciding to be brave for the second time today as he let go of Rook's hand and opened his arms instead. With something that sounded like a soft sob, Rook was quick to slot himself against the necromancer's side, throwing an arm over Emmrich's middle. With a soft sigh that matched Rook's own, Emmrich gently wrapped his arms around Rook and gave him a soft little squeeze, resigned to the fact that the man in his arms would hear his racing heart.

“I'll always be here, whatever you need. You can always count on me and my affection for you, my dear.”

A delightful giggle from Rook made Emmrich's chest vibrate, and his heart leapt into his stomach as the rogue threw a leg over the mage's own for good measure.

“Thank you, Emmrich. You really are one of a kind, and a true treasure to me.”

If heaven existed on this mortal plain, Emmrich Volkarin would have sworn that this was what it felt like.

[kittyplushy]

🛌 - do you and your f/o sleep in the same bed? if you do, do you have a favorite and least favorite thing about sleeping together?

🎇 - do you and your f/o have a favorite holiday to celebrate together? what is it? do you have different holidays you like celebrating?

🥧 - have you and your f/o tried to bake something together? how did it go? what did you make?

Hai hai wrennnn I'm on lunch break so lemme run through these <3. Thank you!

🛏: Julianne initially bought a bigger bed. She was already hoping she'd settle in with someone while she stayed in Woodbrook. Her persuing Sam only came after they developed a friendly acquaintanceship so in terms of any sleeping arrangements, Julianne was more than ready.

SINGLE METAL BED FRAME😭😭😭 Initially Sam and Julianne just sleep on the floor or couch together because there's no way THAT will accomodate them both so they prefer sleeping over at Julianne's apartment. I dunno. Even into the relationship, Sam has the mindset that they'll eventually end up as an expendature she can move on from. But sometimes you just get so numb and powerless you buy another metal bedframe to connect the other to and she can finally sleep over at your house more.

I get so emotional over beds and sleeping arrangements!! It circles back to Stuffed Animal where Lesley doesn't need to sleep since she's already a doll and The Illustrator does. It's more on tapping into each other's humanity and recognizing that living beings need adequate rest and a comfortable bed to sleep in..for House Guest it's improving those living conditions or having set them already because you care enough for your partner to rest well. Julianne didn't plan on dating Sam on day one but it's probably coinscidence and a pattern she got a bigger bed not knowing how big her partner will be eventually.

Ahh them sleepin together is super comfortable but they have pet peeves about how the other sleeps. Julianne is an active dreamer and squirms, rolls, kicks, or bumps in her sleep. She also sometimes just Doesn't Sleep and starts kneading on Sam's arm. It's especially annoying when they both have work the next day and one ends up with a sore arm and one's barely alive at 2 pm.

Sam is Perpetually Warm and it's great when it's fall or it's winter but it's Bad during the Summer especially around June (for. Reasons.) Around that time she's extra physical and handsy so Julianne who's usually a hot sleeper finds it a bit annoying. Sam also hogs the blankets which would be fine most times but it's bad timing after exercise or during the winter. They both enjoy everything else so nothing here is that big of a deal.

🎆: Ohhh it's between Christmas and this springtime fair Woodbrook hosts!! Christmas reminds Julianne of her home since they like to celebrate Christmas big, and she's just lucky to celebrate Christmas with someone on her first year!! Let alone her crush!! As for the fair, in the Philippines, schools have spring fairs from February to March. One that's prominent is the Antipolo Fair I attend quite often so Woodbrook having a smaller scale version would be fun. I imagine in that one month Sam and Julianne didn't talk, it happened just outside Julianne's apartment. She people-watches from her window, her eyes obviously searching for someone. In the next year they go together as a date!!

🥧: I used to bake a lot during the pandemic lockdown so I think Julianne likes baking but now just doesn't have time. She bakes pies, cakes, some local recipes, but she mostly bakes cookies for Sam during the pining stage. It's fairly easy to do in between work and you can keep the batter in the fridge for days plus it keeps its shape in the oven when refridgerated. They have tried making sourdough together early into the relationship after Julianne attempts it and it goes awry. It's another fic idea simmering because sourdough is such a hard bread to bake and I get intimidated by most bread recipes. I dunno. Maybe it means something somewhere hehe

[ask-sibverse]

Can you write ShatteredxReader enjoying some downtime somewhere only to be confronted and yelled at by the Crescents or maybe an old friend?

Oooh boi that's gonna be fun

"You're sure this is a good idea?" You asked, stepping with Shattered into the AU.

"Not everywhere hates me, you know. And you need fire proof clothes for your daily wear now, your powers keep having flare ups and while I can have your room charmed, clothes are constantly touching you and need to be specially purchased."

"So this is where you got my other clothes from then?"

"Yes. This AU specializes in clothing for different monster types, among a few other things. Hotland's section is obviously where we need to go for you."

You let him lead you through the AU. It was a quiet outing for once. You were mostly used to leaving for your treatments and the occasional attack on an AU to generate negativity, usually ending in a fight against the Crescents. (One of these days you were going to kick Killer's ass for stabbing you. Your determination to do this seemed to amuse Shattered.)

But this time there were no treatments, no fighting, no stress. Just shopping and walking around, a bit of goofing off. Your blood sugar started dropping and the pair of you separated for just a moment for you to grab a snack and eat it.

"Come on, just let us help you!"

You returned to find Shattered already in the middle of fighting two skeletons. One was using a giant brush as a weapon and the other was dressed in a blue knight armor sort of getup. Ink and Blue, you'd been briefed on them by Shattered ages ago, although you hadn't met them until now. Two on one wasn't as bad as five on one, but it was still your job to even things out.

So you jumped straight into the fray, launching a fireball at Blue. You weren't sure you were ready to take an immortal head on, the Crescents were bad enough and they were mortal as well. But one on one should be easier.

Blue turned on you, weight of his giant hammer spinning him a bit. It kind of reminded you of fighting Horror, but a much smaller opponent. Still, your usual method of quick, short movements and setting your entire body on fire worked pretty well to get close and get some hits in, especially as he didn't have any backup. You also managed to keep him focused on you enough that he couldn't keep trying to argue with Shattered, which seemed to be helping him it seemed.

Still, you wore out faster than Ink or Blue, you hadn't been doing this as long as them. So you were glad when Shattered made a portal and called you to follow him through.

[tagsecretsanta]

From @tikatu

From @tikatu to @soniabigcheese

My prompts were:

1. Stuck in a chimney - any Tracy brother or maybe Jeff? 2. Herding Santa's reindeer - what do you mean Santa isn't real? 3. Star on the Tree - that's open for interpretation.

The last one spoke to me, so over 5500 words later, here it is! Hope y’all enjoy!

Merry Christmas!

Brianne Craig glanced up as the bell over the door to her studio rang as someone entered. It had been doing that all day; the Open Studios event brought much more foot traffic than she was used to. Her glance registered: male, adult, unlikely to break anything, possible sale.

She finished the line of solder and set her soldering iron into its bracket before smiling at the newcomer. "Welcome to my studio. Feel free to ask any questions you have."

"Thank you."

He browsed the shop, joining the few other visitors. She pulled out some more foil; the custom piece she was working on was nearly done. Engrossed in her work, she failed to notice when he came up to her work table, a small piece in his hand.

He cleared his throat. She started, glancing up.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." His smile was warm as he set the cardinal on the table. "I'd like to purchase this."

"Oh! Of course!"

He moved to see what she was working on as she processed the transaction and wrapped the piece securely for travel. "You do excellent work. I'm very impressed with your 3-D offerings."

She smiled, a touch of color on her cheeks, as she handed him his purchase. "Thank you."

His eyes remained on the worktable as he asked, "Do you take custom orders?"

"I do." Brianne waved toward the piece he'd been examining. "There's an example in front of you now. It's for an October wedding."

He swallowed before raising his brown eyes to meet hers. "Are you able to take a custom 3-D piece? I'd want it at the beginning of December."

"I'm… not sure." She paused to wave at the couple who left the studio. "Thanks for coming in!" Turning back, she was surprised to see he had a small holoemitter in one hand. The hologram was small but detailed, showing just what the possible commission would be.

"This is what I'm looking for." He gave her an abashed smile. "I'm an artist and also an engineer but sculpture isn't my forte—and I have no idea how to do this." He gestured toward the worktable. "Even if I did, my day job doesn't afford me much time to pursue it. I'd rather leave this in the hands of someone experienced."

She turned the hologram from side to side with a finger. "I can't see the colors very clearly."

"Would an exploded view help?" Before she could answer, he pressed a button and the piece grew in size, while the component parts spread out as in a blueprint.

"It helps me to see what you're asking for, but the blue tint still interferes with the colors." Leaning against the table, she folded her arms. "Can I ask why you want this?"

"Does that matter?" He closed down the exploded view.

"I'd be spending a lot of time on this; time I'd normally use to make smaller pieces to sell for Christmas. I also have at least one more commission to complete after this." She gestured to what she'd been working on. "Knowing the reason for a custom job often motivates me."

He drew in a deep breath, nodding as he let it out through his nose. "I can understand that." A small smile played about his lips. "This will be the first Christmas my brothers and I will have with our Dad in nearly a decade. In years past, we've not made much of an effort at home; either we've been working or we've spent the holiday at a friend's home in England."  Turning off the holoemitter, he stuck it back in his pocket. "We usually topped our tree with an angel our late mother had crocheted…"

"Virgil!" Alan sounded upset as he climbed up to the mezzanine where Virgil was painting. "It's broken!"

Laying his palette aside and dropping his brush into a cloudy jar of water, he wiped his hands on his jeans, expecting to get pieces of something he could repair. "What do you have  there?"

"Mom's angel!" Gordon followed on Alan's heels. "When we heard Dad could come home for Christmas, we went looking for the ornaments." He gestured toward the mass of shredded bubble wrap and tissue paper Alan held. "I think something got into the boxes."

The crocheted angel, made of well-stiffened white cotton thread, had been decimated. One wing was missing as was half the arm on the same side. Whatever had nibbled away it had also sat on it, crushing the long skirt. It was badly stained—Virgil could easily guess with what. He gently took it from Alan's hands, wrapping it up again to hide the damage.

"Can you fix it?" Alan turned a worried frown toward his older brother. Gordon put a hand on his shoulder as Virgil shook his head, eyes closing in sadness.

"I'm afraid there's no fixing this. Even if I had the skill to make another, it wouldn't be the same."

"It wouldn't be… Mom's." Gordon's voice was soft.

"Hey! What's going on up there?" Scott's voice carried from the lounge level.

Virgil sighed. He handed the bundle to Gordon. "Go show it to him. I'll be down in a minute."

"So, I want to replace that keepsake with another, one which will honor each member of the family. One that will hopefully come to mean just as much."

Brianne leaned her backside against the table, arms folded across her chest. She shook her head slightly. "I don't see how it could."

"But you see, the colors have meaning…" He pulled the holoemitter out again.

She shook her head more vehemently now. "I don't think you understand. Your mother put some of herself into that angel. That's what made it significant to you, to your family. What you've shown me… anyone could do it. If you want this new heirloom to have the same kind of meaning, you have to put something of yourself into the making of it."

He frowned at her, tucking the emitter away again. "The design, the colors are not enough?"

"Not for me." She countered his frown with a soft, compassionate expression. "Your mother likely found the angel pattern somewhere and worked it up from that. It was the love she put into it that made it special." Unfolding her arms, she turned back to the work table. "If you truly want to replace it, you have to do the same."

Neither spoke for a bit, then he let out a deep breath. "I won't take up any more of your time." Gathering up his purchase, he made for the door. "Thank you for considering my commission. Good luck with your work."

Before he could leave, she spoke up. "If you're willing, I could teach you how."

He stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. She gave a half shrug. "I have a beginner's class tomorrow night if you're available."

His response was to open his mouth as if to speak, a puzzled frown on his face. "Oh-kay. What time?"

"Seven pm. Right here."

"I'll be there." He turned, then swiveled back. "By the way, I'm Virgil. Virgil Tracy."

"Nice to finally get your name." She glanced up, a playful smile on her lips. "I'm Brianne. You can call me Bri."

He smiled. "Okay, Bri. I'll see you tomorrow."

"You certainly know your way around a soldering iron." Brianne glanced over his shoulder as he worked.

"In my line of work, I have to," he replied with a smile.

She'd started the class of four off with something simple, all right angles, easy to cut and piece together. Some of the equipment in her studio was familiar; he was sure he could use what he already had at home to serve the same purpose.

He found Brianne spent far more time keeping his fellow students focused on what they were doing than she did keeping tabs on him. They kept glancing his way, distracted by the presence of either a Tracy (billionaire) or a member of iR—or maybe even both. He fervently hoped they'd get used to him by the end of the class!

The protective gloves she'd insisted on were getting in his way as he soldered another seam. They were thicker than what he was used to--when he used any at all. Still, Brianne was a stickler for safety, which he appreciated. He decided to bring a pair of gloves from home for the next class.

"All right. Our time is up for today," Brianne announced. One of the students, a middle-aged woman, groaned as she straightened up.

"Now," Bri continued as she handed out shallow wooden boxes. "The frames you've been working in go inside a box. Careful there, Jeremy, keep it all together. That's better." Each person also got a small card. "Write your name on this to keep track of who's project is whose. Just tuck it in the box."

As everyone followed instructions, Bri came up to Virgil. "I have homework for you."

"Oh?" His interest piqued, he almost missed the box with his name tag.

"Can you make a full-sized model of the item you want to build? I think you'll get the hang of this…" She gestured to the work table. … faster than some of the other students." She handed him a small square of corrugated plastic. "I usually use this to build my models. You can find it at the craft store near the mall."

"Okay. I'll look for it." A stray thought hit him and he paused. "Would it be easier if I used 3-D printing to build the model? It would come out in one piece—or two, since I'd need both sides."

Brianne said goodbye to Jeremy before turning back to Virgil. "That might work. You'd have to scale the model down a bit if you want to build on top of it." She strode over to a shelf and took down a can of foam sealant. "I usually fill my prototypes with this stuff then build on it."

"Heh." Virgil grinned as he took the can from Bri. "This brings me back! If you only knew how many…" He shook his head. "Let's just say it was an inspiration in more ways than one." Handing it back, he gestured to it. "I'm glad to see it's been made safer."

"Me, too." She drifted back to the work table, taking a whisk broom to collect the leftover bits and bobs. "I'm sure we'll be tweaking it throughout…"

The pronoun caught his ear. "We?" he asked, his tone hopeful.

She shrugged. "Well, I will be teaching you each step of the way—though I expect you to do most of the work. The next two classes will give you the rest of the basics and I'm sure you'd like to hit the ground running after that."

Virgil grinned. "I sure will! Any other homework for me?"

Bri stopped to think for a moment, then nodded. "Yes." She ducked into the office at the back of the studio and came back with a card. "Take a look at these websites to get a feel for the colors you want. Don't order any yet, though. I'll want to look over your choices."

He took the card from her hand. "I will! Thanks!"

She walked him to the door. "See you next week—rescues permitting."

He chuckled. "My reputation precedes me, I see. Next week, then, unless my work interferes."

He stepped outside, hearing the lock engage behind him. Taking a deep breath, he let his shoulders relax. A grin spread over his face. He could hardly wait to see his family's amazement at the finished product.

"So, how was the date?"

Virgil rolled his eyes. "I told you, Gords. I'm taking a class."

Gordon, fresh from a supersoaker fight with Alan, tousled his hair dry. "Ah, but you didn't tell me what you're taking a class in!"

"You're right; I didn't." Pushing past his brother, Virgil headed for the piano. He had an urge to start playing Christmas carols. An urge he quickly squelched as being suspicious, considering they weren't really in the season yet. Still, there had to be something to scratch his itch…

As he went through the scores downloaded into the piano's holoemitter, he became aware of his younger brothers talking about him, loudly enough to for him to hear.

"What do you think, Al? Ballet? Tuba playing?"

"I dunno. Maybe making balloon animals or something." Virgil had his back to his brothers but he could almost see the expression on his brother's face through his voice. "I know! Ice sculpture! Or maybe chocolate sculpture!"

"Nah. Virge always said carving stuff wasn't his thing." There was a pause. "Well, except maybe for bushes." A snort. "How do you carve chocolate, anyway? You'd need a really big chunk of it!"

"Nononono!" Virgil could hear the leather on Thunderbird Three's chairs squeaking as Alan bounced. "Oh, man! There was this one guy…"

The alarm cut off his explanation. Virgil slid off the piano bench and headed to the sunken area of the lounge. Scott came running in from somewhere, a tablet in his hand, just as John's larger-than-life hologram shimmered into view.

"International Rescue, we have a situation…"

Later (much, much later to be honest), Virgil finally had time for his homework. As the 3-D printer chugged through his design, he browsed through the websites Brianne had provided. The offerings made his color-loving heart sing! He had multiple windows opened, choosing between several shades of red—loving the opalescent swirls here, the deep, saturated texture there. The blues—it was so hard to choose! There were ambers, both dark and light. Bright yellows and rich oranges. Teal or turquoise was harder to find, as was something silver, but they were available. And the greens! He had at least five favorites to choose from! He was even looking at various shades of purple.

"I'd better start making some choices here," he muttered, dismissing three out of the five green shades and adding the last two to a list.

The model finished printing. Brains chose that moment to enter the room.

"Wh-what's this?" He carefully lifted one of the pieces, turning it this way and that.

"Something I'm working on for that class I'm taking." Virgil put out a hand. Brains gave him the piece.

"Ah, the class your br-brothers don't believe you're, uh, taking." As Virgil double-checked the measurements of the model, Brains leaned up against the workbench. "Why this? Why now? I can guess wh-what you're doing…"

Virgil glanced at Brains, then lowered the piece with a sigh. "To replace Mom's crocheted angel."

"Ah." Brains cocked his head to one side a questioning expression on his face. "Why are y-you doing it yourself? Why not have it made?"

"Umm. Yeah." One side of Virgil's mouth quirked up in a half-smile. "About that." His eyes slid from Brains's face to gaze, unfocused, on the model. "My instructor reminded me that the angel was special because Mom made it. Poured something of herself into it. For this to truly replace it, requires the same." He turned his attention back to his companion. "So, I'm doing this—with help." His smile grew, became whole. "Learning a new art form is a plus." He paused. "I do want this to be a surprise."

Brains echoed his smile. "I see. Your s-secret is safe with me." He picked up the second part of the model. "Have you g-given thought to lighting this?"

"Some. I want to talk to Brianne—that's my teacher—and see what she suggests."

"I'll think on it, too, if that's okay."

Virgil grinned. "I welcome your input."

He was almost late for the next class; in fact, he had Gordon pilot while he got cleaned up and into civvies for a quick drop-off at a park three blocks from the studio. Because of the rescue's timing, he'd brought along his tablet and the model.

"How are you going to get back home, huh?" Gordon asked before Virgil disappeared into the pod.

"Don't worry; I'll find a way."

He caught his breath before entering the studio. Brianne was at the door, just about to lock him out.

"I thought you mightn't make it," she commented. "I heard you had to work today."

He nodded. "I had my younger brother drop me off."

Brianne's eyes widened. "Is he going to pick you up, too?"

He shook his head, chuckling. "He'd like to; he thinks I'm on a date. I'll probably call my sister instead."

The other students had their projects out already. Virgil dropped his bag in a corner and brought out his own. As they worked, Brianne talked more about the materials they were using. Virgil thought it was no coincidence, considering his homework.

When the class ended, Virgil took a minute to text Kayo. He didn't mind her knowing where he was; she kept secrets like no one else. She agreed to bring him home.

"So, what do we have?" Brianne asked. Virgil grinned and brought out his model.

After looking everything over, she rubbed her chin. "Some of your color choices aren't very festive."

"I know." He pointed to one of his selections. "That's for my sister. This red is for my youngest brother. I chose this for my father." Glancing up at her, he looked for comprehension. "I tried to tell you when we first met; this is all about my family."

She nodded, finally seeing his reasoning. "I remember." Putting the two pieces of the model together, she frowned. "At this size, you're going to end up with something too heavy for a tree. I think you should scale the size back by about twenty percent. Have you considered how this is going to be mounted?"

He paused to tamp down on his annoyance at her question. "Yes. That's why this end is open." He pulled the schematics up. "There'll be a clear tube here, perpendicular through the center, and the mount will attach vertically to the support."

"Why a clear support?" Her frown was more inquisitive than anything else.

"Lights!" He pulled out a sealed pouch. "These are rechargeable, remote-controlled LEDs; they shine cool, so don't need ventilation. I plan to run the charging dongle down through the mount." Her eyes narrowed, turning her inquisitiveness to a more incredulous expression. "Hey! We use these at work!"

"How are you going to create the support and mount?"

"Our 3-D printer will handle them." In fact, he planned on using one of the nigh-indestructible materials Brains had used in his Thunderbird.

There was a long silence as Brianne considered the idea. Her face relaxed a little; she'd decided it would work.

"All right. I'll go with it." She pointed at a blank spot at the center of each piece. "You've been pretty specific about everything else. What's going there?"

"Something to honor my mother." He rubbed the back of his head. "I know what I want, but I haven't found it yet. Not at this size, anyway. Making this smaller might help."

"What is it?"

Virgil told her. Brianne took another good look at the model and nodded slowly. Then she smiled, satisfied. "I think you've got a good plan here. Your color and material choices are good and once you have a size on that center object, I think I know someone who can provide what you're missing." She shook her head in amazement. "This will be gorgeous once it's done."

His shoulders dropped and he sighed in relief. "I'm so glad to hear you say that!"

There was a knock on the glass door. They turned to see who was outside. Kayo stood there, giving Virgil a small wave. He began to gather his things.

"I take it that's your sister?" Brianne glanced back and forth between the two of them. "You don't look much alike."

"Tanusha's a sister of the heart," he explained as they walked to the door. "So, what's my homework for this week?"

"Resize the model. Send me a list of materials; I'll order them—I can get things wholesale. Get me a measurement for the center item. Then come back for next week's class. We'll be working on framing."

"Got it!"

Brianne unlocked the door, opening it. Virgil stepped through. "Kayo, meet Brianne Craig. Bri, this is Tanusha Kyrano. We call her Kayo because she's knocked more than one person out."

Bri offered her hand. "Nice to meet you."

Kayo took it. "Same here. I hope he's not giving you trouble."

Bri laughed, shaking her head. "Nah. Though this project might."

"Really?" Kayo gave him a calculating look. "Now I'm intrigued."

"Uh-oh." Virgil's eyes flicked from one woman to the other. "I think I'm in trouble."

“That’ll depend on what you’re working on.” Kayo tugged on his arm. “Let’s get going.”

“Goodnight. See you next week!” Virgil called as she pulled him away.

“So, what’s this all about?” Kayo nudged him with an elbow as they headed for the parking garage where Shadow sat, invisible, on the top level.

Virgil told her. She nodded thoughtfully.

“I can see where you and Bri are coming from. Are you going to have time to finish this before the holidays?”

Virgil sounded upbeat. “Yeah, I think so. I should have time—depending on rescues.”

The following week, Brianne was surprised to see Virgil arrive early with his right arm in a brace.

“Pulled some tendons in my wrist,” he explained, his mouth twisted into a rueful expression. “Hazards of the job, unfortunately.”

“Are you all right? Is it painful?” Brianne took the bag he offered, setting it on the work table.

“I’m fine. It only hurts if I try to move it—or I fail to take my pain medication.” He shook his head, sighing. “I don’t think I can do anything at the class tonight, but I’ve brought my homework to see if you approve.”

He grabbed the edge of the bag with two fingers and drew out the shorter, squatter model pieces. Brianne took one of them and began to examine it.

“I did a little reading on doing this sort of thing. Since I figured we’d be making a mold to work on, I added the light tube and mounting base to the design.” He huffed out a laugh. “You can even put the two sides together and see how it’ll work.”

Brianne did just that, sliding the space for the light tube from one side into the other’s. “Yes. I think this will work well. The final product won’t be as heavy and your base should be sturdy enough, too.”

His face lit up with a grin; he pumped his uninjured fist. “Yes! This is really coming together now!”

Brianne chuckled. “This is just the beginning. There’ll be a lot more work to do.” She glanced at her watch. “I think we have enough time for me to show you the materials I ordered before people start arriving for class.”

“Then I can get out of your hair.”

She shook her head as she led him to a box in the corner of the studio. “I think you should stay. Even if you can’t work on your class project, you can watch and learn.”

Virgil considered this, lips pursed thoughtfully. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

It took three weeks until Grandma declared him healed enough to go back to his regular activities. Three weeks of anxiety, not just about this project but also other irons he had in his personal fire. As far as rescues went, he was allowed to ferry his brothers to and from the Danger Zone twice. As far as the project went, he managed to create the mold on which this grand replacement would be built.

“Are you sure about this teal?”

Virgil glanced up from where he was tracing a pattern to cut. “Like I said, the colors represent my family. The teal is for Kayo.”

“And the purple? Who does that represent?” Brianne was cutting small strips of said material.

“My grandmother. She’s been the rock of the family, which is why her color will go around the clear mounting base.” He turned his attention to the pattern. “It’s her favorite. She wears it every day.”

“Ah, I see, now.”

Virgil took a metal straight edge and began to cut through the streaky blue material. It reminded him so much of blue skies with white cirrus clouds. So very, very Scott…

“Shit!”

Brianne glanced up. “Virgil?”

“I’m okay. The shortest corner broke. Again.” He snagged the pattern and began to trace it out, not looking at his instructor.

“This is why I bought as much as I did.” She returned to her own cutting, the knife gliding smoothly across the surface. Upon reaching the end, she separated the cut piece from its surroundings and laid it carefully with its mates. Straightening, she arched back to stretch.

“I think we need coffee.”

“I can get this. I’m just pressing too hard.”

Brianne snatched the marker out of his hand. “We need coffee,” she said, her firm tone butting up against his fuming scowl. “Besides, I have something to show you.”

She drew him into the office where a coffee maker stood, a gadget that made one cup at a time. She filled the reusable pod, slid it into the machine, and set it to brew. As the aroma filled the air, Virgil drew in a deep breath, closing his eyes, and letting the breath out slowly. He did this twice more, his shoulders relaxing, his glower smoothing out. Brianne opened her small safe; she often worked with gold and her insurance company insisted on the security. Taking out a small velvet bag, she picked up Virgil’s hand and placed it in his palm.

“These came today.”

Opening the bag, he spilled the contents into his hand. The gasp was slight, barely heard over the gurgle of the brewer, but it was there nonetheless.

“They’re beautiful.” He picked one up between thumb and forefinger. “Better than I imagined.” He tucked the items back into their bag.

“A friend from Austria sourced them for me.” Bri handed him a cup of coffee and set to brewing her own. “Now, tell me about them.”

“They represent my mother, who died in an avalanche years ago.” He kept his gaze on his cup. “Like my brother, Scott, she was born in April.”

“So her birthstone.”

“Yeah.”

“You put them—you put her--in the center.”

There was a long silence. Bri sipped her coffee and waited.

Finally, he spoke. “It seems fitting. Even though she’s no longer with us, her influence remains strong. It’s my way of honoring her, I guess.”

Bri hid a soft smile behind her coffee. “I think it’s very fitting.” She sipped and swallowed. “And you were right out there. You were pressing too hard. Perhaps physically; most definitely emotionally. I told you from the first this would take time. But a lighter touch and a touch more patience will see us finish this in plenty of time.”

Finally, Virgil smiled. “Thanks, Bri. I’ll try to have a lighter touch, both with the knife and with my impatience.”

“Good.” She set her cup aside; no beverages were allowed at the work table. “Now you finish up with Scott and I’ll work on your grandmother. I’ll see you again next week.”

“Thanks for this, Brains!” Virgil held up the separate pieces of the lighting tube and base. “I appreciate you printing this out in clear cahelium for me.”

“You’re, uh, welcome.” Brains hitched a hip onto the workshop’s desk. “How’s it c-coming?”

“We’re almost finished! Today we’ll fit this in, install the lights, and cover the base with purple slices. Then just a few finishing touches and it will be done!” He shook his head. “I had no idea this was as fiddly and time-consuming as it is. But I’ve learned so much and, who knows? I might just take the intermediate course!”

They laughed. Brains knew very well the actual class was over; Virgil had finished his project there. Besides guiding and helping him finish his Christmas piece, Bri was gearing up for Christmas herself, fulfilling her other commissions and making Christmas ornaments for purchase. He’d satisfied the invoice she’d sent—a final bill with any further hours or materials would be due when the project was complete and she had a minute to breathe.

To be truthful, he was going to miss working on this.

“Are the lights charged?”

He clicked on the remote. “Yup!” Shaking his head, he murmured, “I can’t believe how great that looks.”

“I know! It’s gorgeous!” Bri nudged him on the upper arm. “You do good work, Mr. Tracy.”

“So do you, Ms. Craig.”

She pulled out a length of recyclable bubble wrap. “Let’s put this baby to bed and wrap her up for safe transit.”

Finally, his replacement project snugly packaged and gift-boxed, Virgil headed for home. Tomorrow they were supposed to decorate the tree—rescues permitting.

Decorating the three-meter-tall spruce was half-chaos and all fun. After finding the angel in such poor condition, Grandma, Scott, and Alan teamed up to go through all the other ornaments, discarding anything broken, repairing what could be fixed, and cleaning everything. As they worked, Scott or Grandma told Alan stories about the decorations—like how Grandpa insisted on a new, tall, utterly kitschy Nutcracker for each one of the boys. Or how Lucy crocheted several new snowflakes every year—never using the same pattern twice. And the reason they used beads for garland instead of tinsel—something to do with a cat who ate it and got sick.

Brains brought two anti-gravity lifts from the hangars so they could reach the top boughs. Gordon was banned from using one for nearly falling off and taking the tree down with him! John untangled lights and garland, handing them off to Alan and Kayo, who circled the tree to install them. Jeff put hooks on ornaments, bringing up the memories they provoked, and handing them off to Scott and Virgil to either hang or send up to Alan and Kayo.

“Now, where’s the angel?”

Jeff’s simple question brought the whole party to an abrupt halt. Alan looked at Gordon and Scott.

“Didn’t you tell him?”

Gordon shook his head. “I thought Scott was going to tell him!”

“Tell me what?”

“I’m sorry, Dad.” Virgil’s voice cut through the silence. “Earlier this year, we discovered something got into the ornaments.”

“I still d-don’t know what it was.” Brains sounded apologetic.

“Whatever it was,” Gordon picked up the thread, “did a number on Mom’s angel. Chewed some of it up, pooped on it…”

“That’s enough, Gordon.” Scott’s tone showed his disgust.

“What?! That’s what it did!”

Jeff sighed. “I get the picture, son. No need to continue.” He addressed Virgil. “I suppose it couldn’t be repaired.”

Virgil shook his head. “No, but… I’ve been working on something. Something different. A new tree topper that represents us all, and honors Mom, too.” He handed the gift box to his father. “I’d like you to open it, Dad.” He moistened his lips. “You might want to sit down.”

Jeff did as he asked. With the box in his lap, he untied the ribbon and lifted the lid.

“Oh my!”

From the folds of bubble wrap, Jeff drew a stained glass star.

Seven equal points spread out around it, with the base making a sort of eighth arm. Each arm had a panel of pebbled clear glass and a panel of colored glass, usually something opaque. The top arm had white shot through with silver, while the arm to its right had a blue with milky white streaks, like thin cirrus clouds. Next was a dark green, like oil paint smoothed over a canvas, uneven.

The arm to the right of the base was a fiery tangerine, invoking magma shooting toward the sky. To the left of the base was a teal, cool, and laced with a touch of gray, ranging from dark to light in swirls.

Yellow was next in line, bright and sunny, shot through with paler tones. To the left of the top stood red, resembling a nebula in space. At the base, slivers of wavy purple shades alternated with clear.

And in the center on both sides, faceted circles, shiny and clear as the top of a diamond.

“It’s… beautiful.” Jeff gazed up at his son. “Did you… did you make this?”

Virgil nodded. “With a lot of help from a professional who taught me how.” Gesturing to it, he explained, “As you can see, everyone in the family is here,” he tapped a nail on the gem, “even Mom.” He shot a look at Gordon, eyebrow raised. “This was the class I was taking, Gords. Not a date, as you can see.”

Gordon shrugged, a mischievous grin on his face. “For all I know, you could have been dating a stained glass artist.” “I thought sculpture wasn’t your thing.”

Virgil turned his attention to Alan. “Hacking away at stone or ice isn’t. But I’m very good at putting things together., once I know how.”

“Who’s going to put this on the tree?” John asked.

Gordon and Alan jumped up and down, shouting variations of “Me, me!” and “I will! I will!”

Jeff held it out to Virgil. “You should, son.”

Virgil shook his head. “No. Brains should. He helped me build some of the more fiddly bits.”

Brains blinked. “M-Me?”

“Of course you.” Jeff held out the star to his engineer. “Put it up there, Brains.”

John took charge of the star until Brains was securely on the lift. Then, as it rose slowly, Virgil tapped his dad on the shoulder, gesturing to the box.

“There’s a remote…”

Jeff dug it out. Brains secured the star to the top of the tree and descended again.

“On five… four… three… two… one!”

Jeff hit the power button.

Light blazed from the pebbled glass. The colored glass was backlighted clearly.

And the gems threw rainbows all over the room.