#this was done without a reference in sight in the span of a couple hours. i dont wanna talk about it

[lucydoodlessometimes]

p... princess eater? soul tutu??? what if mytho was a weapon literally. what if princess tutu was soul eater. anime that rewired my brain

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

Correspondence, Chapter 01

Pairing: HotchReid

Summary:  An AU where Reid never joined the FBI, but got roped into consulting for the LA field office while working and teaching at Caltech. Hotch gets his email referred from a fellow agent, and they start to work on cases together -- until they start talking on a regular basis. Regular becomes frequent, frequent becomes constant. They know nothing about each other, but they don't really mind.

Rating: Mature/Explicit (eventually)

Chapter CW/notes: some profanity, a side character who is a dick about Reid, set in season 06, self beta’d

Word Count: 2437

Masterpost Link

Ao3 Link

--

Chapter 01

--

March 2010

--

Dr. Spencer Reid

(Current Tenure: California Institute of Technology): Fred Kavli Professor of Theoretical Physics and Mathematics; Director, Walter Burke Institute for Theoretical Physics, Department Head of Mathematics, Physics, and Astronomy at Caltech.

- (Degrees, in order) Ph.D. Mathematics, Caltech, 1995; Ph.D. Chemistry, Caltech, 1997; M.A. Nuclear Science, MIT, 1999; Ph.D. Engineering, MIT, 2000; M.A. Sociology, Columbia University, 2001; M.A. Philosophy, Georgetown, 2001; Ph.D. Psychology, Georgetown, 2002; M.A. Applied Analytics, Columbia University, 2003; M.A. Socio Economic Statistics, MIT, 2004; M.A. Geology, Caltech, 2006; Ph.D. Geography, Caltech, 2006; M.A. Economics, Caltech, 2008; M.A. Brain and Cognitive Sciences, Caltech, 2009

- (Teaching positions, in order) Professor of Mathematics, Caltech, 1995-1997, Professor of Mathematics and Statistical Analysis, MIT, 1998-2005, Visiting Associate, Georgetown, 1999-2002; Professor of Chemical Engineering, MIT, 2002-05; Kavli Professor, Mathematics, Caltech, 2005-; Professor of Theoretical Physics and Mathematics, 2006-; Deputy Chair, 2005-; Director, 2008-.

“Jesus.”

The dossier is just an information sheet; no photo ID, no news articles beyond text component pieces, but it is a thick stack of correspondence and case consultations that S.S.A Aaron Hotchner holds in his hands.

“Five Ph.D.’s and eight separate M.A.’s in fourteen years? What was he doing before that?”

“Who knows? You don’t earn a Ph.D. overnight, even if his accommodation sheet makes ‘em look like they pop up like mushrooms,” Mark Anderson says, audibly tired through the phone speaker on his desk. He was one of the Unit Chief's from the teams at the FBI L.A. field office, who’s phone number was given to him by an old friend, Sam Cooper -- another BAU team leader. Hotch had hit dead end after dead end on this case, and sitting at his desk in Quantico, Virginia, he looks down at the recommended consultant’s extensive list of degrees and teaching positions with a building headache behind his dark eyes. He wasn’t a fan of Anderson, or his briskness, but at this point he’d take anything he could get. “I’m pretty sure that man has never lived outside an academic field. He’s a handful, runs my agents up the damn wall, but he knows his stuff.”

“I hope so. I’ve been on the phone the past three days trying to find someone with a background in Obscure Cognitive Linguistics,” Hotch reads from a separate file, filled with violent images and depraved acts described in morbid detail. “Our unsub sites a very particular thesis about a Study of Language from a Cognitive and Developmental Law, and I keep getting sent to experts in adjacent fields. I don’t see anything in this Dr. Reid’s background about language.”

“Oh, trust me, Hotch -- you’ll get more than you bargained for. This is your guy. He’s basically an expert on everything, and if he doesn’t know anything about languages I’ll eat my tie. He never shuts up.”

Frowning at the speaker phone, Hotch keeps his comments to himself. He’s sure that Anderson probably doesn’t appreciate having an old professor puttering around the field office, but that didn’t mean he had to insult the man. Especially when he was there as a consultant. 

“Okay, fine. Thank you. I’ll give him a call now-”

“Oh, you don’t want to do that. Just send him an email. Trust me.” Anderson all but groans like a petulant child. Graining on Hotch’s nerves excruciatingly.

“I’m sure he’s busy enough with his students, he doesn’t need to be fielding emails from the FBI,” Hotch hedged, still frowning. 

“Not too busy to write you a dissertation in reply, I’m sure, but you’ll at least get the answers you need. You could be on the phone with him a half hour before you get to what you called about. Hopefully it won’t take you too long to sift through.” 

Alright, now he is done listening to the other agent.

“Right. Thanks, Mark.”

“Anyti-” Hotch hangs up on him before the man could make any other remarks. His patience is non-existent after the past week and this extremely brutal case that only seems to compound exponentially in it’s viciousness with each passing day. If Anderson felt like being an asshole to some old man with nothing better to do than rack up Ph.D.’s, he could do it on his own time. Hotch needed help, and this man seemed to be the only person around who might be able to finally do so.

Dr. Reid’s office number is in front of him, as well as about three different lab location phone numbers, and one email address connected to the school faculty. He considers for a moment just ignoring Anderson’s advice and calling the old professor, but he has a meeting with his Department Chief, Strauss, in twenty minutes and the team would be arriving from canvasing the dumpsites soon. 

So with a suffering sigh, Hotch pulls up a new email (for what feels like the millionth time for this case) and composes a standard correspondence introduction. Who he is, credentials, case numbers and specifics as far as clearance rates for civilians go, and then finally the questions he needs answered. There is something about this particular thesis that has to be very tongue in cheek to the unsub, saying something that isn’t really there, and this could just be another dead end -- but if it led to them saving a victim from becoming another dead body, he is willing to give it one last try. 

Thank you for your time,  S.S.A. Aaron Hotchner Unit Chief, Behavioral Analysis Unit, FBI Quantico, VA. 

Then he hits send, and leaves the response up to the universe.

-

The team came up with nothing fruitful. Strauss proceeded to ream Hotch six ways from Sunday for wasting valuable bureau resources and coming up with zero results. His day was spinning down the drain in a hellish cyclone when he sits down behind his desk in his office an hour after leaving it. Case files still piled to one side, grotesque photos stacked within them, and Aaron Hotchner wants nothing more than for them to disappear. For the case to be solved and to be able to go home to his son and his quiet house. But there was no break in sight, no new information, nothing.

Except a new email in his inbox.

Agent Hotchner, 

I know that thesis paper well. I can help you.

All air seems to have been sucked from the room as Hotch reads the words a couple of times, not quite comprehending after the morning he has had that someone wasn’t giving him more bad news. That this Dr. Reid said he could help him. 

 A single click of the email opens up the correspondence reply, and the agent is met with a giant wall of text. Scrolling down for pages, and a quick skim of the material shows such a complex, comprehensive amount of information that there is no way it’s just copy and pasted from any one source. Or even several. It’s a long email spanning a vast number of pages, covering every topic he had asked about (and then some).

The thesis paper, the tongue-in-cheek citation from the unsub, how this killer is acting like he’s being clever when it’s really ‘very obvious what he’s doing, as long as you know the paper’ and detailed links and quotations and references to locations and side tangents on items mentioned that could be evidence to look for or weapons of choice, and so much else Hotch’s head feels like it’s spinning. Like reading the cliffnotes of a complex spy novel, with all the spoilers in one place. 

It takes him half an hour to read through everything Dr. Reid sent, meaning the professor had to have been typing a million words a minute from the moment Hotch had emailed him to get everything replied so quickly, and Hotch was baffled to realize that an old man with a handful of Ph.D.’s and no FBI training just solved his case.

Not a figment of speech.

Dr. Reid just solved the case, without even holding the file in his hands.

Hotch is dialing a phone number on his speed dial without even looking away from the screen. 

“Garcia? Call the team into the briefing room, and phone SWAT to mobilize. We’re going down to the riverfront in thirty minutes.”

“--Wait, what are you talking about? Did you figure out the unsub’s code?”

Not me, Aaron thought to himself, standing up and printing Dr. Reid’s email after forwarding it to the entire team and their tech analyst, Penelope Garcia. He didn’t have time to explain it that many times, and the amount of information in that single email would be enough to send any of them tumbling heels over head. But it solved every aspect of their case. Hook, line, and sinker.

And the clock was ticking. 

“Now, Garcia.”

He rushes from the room with the stack of files in his hands and his laptop open to Dr. Reid’s email. Not even thinking to thank the man for his help as he heads across the bullpen with profound determination.

They have work to do.

-

They catch the unsub that very day. 

Quick, efficient, completely by surprise. They saved Amanda Sutton and another girl they hadn’t even known was missing. No one died. None of his team was hurt. The unsub hadn’t confessed, but Rossi and Morgan had played him like a fiddle in interrogation and now all of his team members were walking to the elevators leaving for a long weekend where they wouldn’t have to worry about serial killers or another dead soul on their conscience. Today was a win. As close to a win as they ever can get, in their line of work. 

And it isn’t until he’s back at his desk, the hours ticking into the night, that he opens up his email and there in his inbox is the very reply that started everything. Dr. Spencer Reid. CalTech Department Head. Professor of everything under the sun. Expert on anything, even the obscure. 

The reason Hotch will get to spend the weekend with his son, without the overbearing aftershocks of a case gone so horribly bad plaguing him. 

His hands are moving before he can stop them. Opening up the email, typing out a response to Dr. Reid thanking him for his help. Relaying what happened, detail by detail much in the same fashion he had completed the paperwork piled on his desk. Letting him know that his information really did end up helping them. All of it. Even the side tangents. 

I don’t know how I can ever thank you for the extensive consideration you gave this case, or how to explain how it solved it so seamlessly, but your time and effort does not go unnoticed by me. 

Okay, so maybe he fluffs it up a bit more than the dreadful bullet-point list descriptions required by the Deputy Chief and the Director and SWAT Team justification reports. Just so it doesn’t look so inadequate in comparison to the man’s thesis-paper-length email he sent to aide Hotch and his team. The passion he has for his work leaps off the page, but it was a lot -- and if the old man put that much dedication into a basic FBI correspondence email, then he was probably used to it being a thankless effort. 

Hotch sends the reply, and continues with his work. He always takes a bulk of the paperwork, so his team can go home and rest and recharge. He needs them at their best for each case, and if that means he spends a couple hours longer after when they finish a case, it is worth every minute. But this time, once he finishes, he gets to take the coveted time off as well. 

It’s as he’s finishing up, everything stacked neatly and ready to be dropped at records, in the mailroom, Strauss’s office, the director’s, and he’s about to log off his laptop that he sees a surprise -- Dr. Reid replied to him, again.

It’s much more brief this time.

Agent Hotchner,

I’m so glad I was able to help you. 

You are one of the only agents to reach out and tell me how the case went after my consultation, and I’m very grateful to know that my information actually helped your team catch the killer. I know I tend to spout facts at random, but I do have methods to my madness and it’s such a nice change to correspond with someone who understands that. 

My services are always at your disposal. Anytime. Whatever I can do to help.

Sincerely, Dr. Spencer Reid

Hotch types out a brief reply. Thanking him for his offer, for lending him his expertise, and letting him know in not so many words --

I’ll have to take you up on that. 

He’d be a fool not to. Someone with that much knowledge and the ability to connect it all in the way Dr. Reid had in the span of an hour? He could be a real asset to the BAU, as a permanent consultant, even through email correspondence. 

He sends the reply just as he stands to leave. Turning off his office light, and his chest feels lighter for the interaction. For giving the professor that sense of assurance that what he had to say did in fact do some real good. Hotch even finds himself smiling softly, sadly, that he has also found a little bit of solace in helping another lonely old man across the country find a sense of purpose that night. Who was working late, as well, despite it being the end of the week. Speaking to not much waiting for him back at home, in whatever shape ‘home’ takes for the man. But Hotch can relate to that, too. Jack is at Jessica’s until the morning, and there is nothing at his apartment to greet him but silence and bare walls and memories he’d rather not dote on. Maybe this Dr. Spencer Reid is in a similar boat, finding comfort in his work when he can. He certainly seems to, with the amount of time he’s poured into his doctorates and degrees. In the number of departments he runs and monitors. 

Hotch can’t help but feel a connection, a companionship between empty offices. Thousands of miles apart, but maybe -- possibly -- at least similar in that aspect.

Not so alone, even if only for a brief moment.

-

(tbc...)

-

Tagged list: @spencehotchner @ssa-sarahsunshine @gothamapologist @reidology @marsjareau @dragon-snaps-fandom​ @emmyraebird @just-an-emo-rat​​​ @aaron-hotchner187 @dk18077 @more-heid-pls

[wolfcha1k]

"One look and I can't catch my breath Two souls into one flesh When you're not next to me I'm incomplete 'Cause I'm on fire like a thousand suns I couldn't put it out even if I wanted to These flames tonight Look into my eyes and say you want me, too Like I want you"

"All my life I've been looking for a place my parents wanted me to find, and I found it… but now? All I can think about is Eep. My best friend, my first… and only love."

Summary: Guy and Eep reflect on what has happened in the wake of these two crazy moons since their Tomorrow was challenged. There's damage that needs to be fixed and broken hearts to mend. - <3 - I used a ton of references from the movie as well as loosely traced bits, the kiss was referenced from the ending of "A New Age". I wanted to draw a proper cover for my new "chapter" for my "The Sun Was a Wayfarer" series, which is a bunch of one shots/little stand alone stories set in the same timeline despite it kinda skipping around a bunch. This one is "All I Can Think Of" as of now it takes place after "It's Our Nature" and before "A Tomorrow of Our Own", ngl, this chapter was mostly to practice writing kisses, I had some fun actually writing it. Usually I get hella embarrased lol I'm gonna paste the story beneath the picture, hope you like ~

The Sun Was a Wayfarer - Series

<Previous> Its Our Nature <next> A Tomorrow of Our Own

The moment Guy saw a chance to get away from the Pack he took it, quickly grabbing for Eep's hand to pull her down a random direction into the garden. She started in surprise before willingly following him with a trust Guy didn't feel he deserved anymore after last night. Guy didn't stop until he felt they were far enough away that nobody would find them without looking very hard, hidden behind some of the large gourds and corn.

He spun around to face her, letting out a long sigh. Guy just needed a moment to look at her, dark eyes worried and concerned as the adrenaline of what happened just a few hours ago finally seeped out of his body. Guy was covered in bruises and ached all over but it was nothing compared to the pain of when he thought he lost her forever three times in the span of just two terrifying days of his life. Somehow The End of the World felt miniscule in comparison now that Eep was his world.

His Tomorrow.

He rested his shaky hands on her shoulders, relief making him dizzy. Eep supported the sudden slumping of his weight, her green eyes wide with concern. "Guy! What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I'm fine," he said, a tired smile on his face as he looked at her.

She held him up by the arms before lifting him up into hers. Eep sat down on the grass and positioned him on her lap, stroking the fringe of hair away from his face.

She could see the swollen purple bruises on his cheek and the black eye he had, his lower lip looked swollen and puffy. "You had a bad day," she sighed, cuddling him close.

"Yeah," he managed to chuckle, finding some amusement out of her words. "But it's better now that you're here…" He pressed a tired, sloppy kiss to her shoulder and rested his forehead there after. "Empathis on the better."

She just tugged him closer, as if her arms could squeeze the exhaustion and nerves right out of him. "I'm sorry," Eep suddenly said, muffling her face against his cheek. He felt moisture against his skin and the slight tremor in her arms and shoulders. "I'm really sorry."

Her warbled words cut him like a knife and he used his head to nudge her back so he could look at her. He could see the beginnings of tears on her eyelashes, gaze watery as she blinked it away stubbornly. Guy reached his hand to touch her face, feeling her recoil a bit before relaxing into his palm. He wiped his thumb under her eye, catching a tear.

He realized his own eyes felt moist all of a sudden, it'd been an emotionally charged couple of days. "It's okay, Eep. You didn't do anything wrong, I was just so stupid."

She sighed heavily, unwinding an arm from around his body so she could cover his hand with her calloused palm. Eep said nothing for several long moments, just clutched his hand like a life line.

"Eep?"

Eep finally looked at him, tearing her eyes from the random direction she'd sent her sights towards. "Yeah?"

"You're not hurt, are you?" Guy sat up a bit in her lap, cautiously letting his palms trace her broad shoulders, fingers squeezing tentatively to see if she would flinch. He knew she was good at hiding things like injuries, nursing them in private as to avoid upsetting Grug, it'd also extended to him now. She was strong but that didn't mean he wasn't allowed to worry over her.

"No, I don't have a scratch on me," she assured him but Guy didn't stop checking her. Eep let him fuss though, knowing it would make him feel better if he came to the conclusion himself. His touch felt nice though, Eep realizing how starved she was for it since being separated from each other.

He touched her back, her arms, her ribs, anywhere his hands could reach in a modest way, careful in his examination. After running a hand down her leg, his eyes fell to where the prohestic was once on her pinkie toe. "I'm so, so glad you actually don't have a toe there," he sighed, knowing it was one of the most nonsensical, bizarre phrases he'd ever uttered in his seventeen years of life.

"Guess getting bit by that bearyena came in handy for once," Eep quipped, trying to lighten the mood a little.

He also was relieved she hadn't been ripped in half during the struggle, it had to be a miracle of some kind. Guy didn't voice this though, just traced his hands slowly back up her body so he could hold her waist. He missed her so much and he was quick to show her that, words failing him as he gently brushed her lips in a kiss. He let his hands slide up her back to lovingly stroke her shoulders, feeling the muscles ripple under his palms. She shivered and he shook, he pulled her closer as if to warm them both but still the trembling never stopped.

He always did love her shoulders and muscles, the clinical and practical part of him admired the strength and power there, how they could flex and be used to take down beasts twice her size. Then there was the simplicity of just being a man who loved a beautiful woman and it inspired a different kind of appreciation in him.

One that he knew Grug who absolutely skewer him alive for, his heart longing and aching as he hugged Eep. He never knew he could be so needy, it should have been pathetic as a puppy following its master for attention, never satisfied.

They'd shared an intense kiss over the raging flames but it still wasn't enough after the longest dry spell he had ever known since meeting her. After that first kiss in the ocean, he never got enough of her now. He was greedy and never was ashamed of that when it came to loving her.

He only wanted to be with her until there were no more Tomorrows that crossed the sky.

Eep quickly cupped his face in her hands and surged forward against him, her ferocity taking him by surprise. He practically squeaked when he felt the nip of her teeth on his bruised lip but somehow he couldn't care less. Just welcomed it, tilting his head and taking in the taste of her as he brushed her tongue with his. It was like fire and he was more than happy to be burned, letting Eep fly with him like the wild tiger in his stories.

He drew away a moment, just the slightest breath away as he spoke, pressing a few rapid kisses to her lips with each word. "You." Kiss. "Have." Kiss. "No idea." Kiss. Kiss. "How much I missed you," Guy finished in a rush, breathless as he lowered his head to trail a series of kisses down the column of her throat, grazing his teeth lightly on the skin of her collarbone.

There was a hitch in her breath at the affection. "Can't be more than I missed you."

He went to nuzzle her ear, placing a chase kiss on her earlobe. Eep arched into him and he clutched her tight as if she were water slipping through his fingers. "I thought I was going to die seeing you up there," Guy uttered in a strained voice. He could picture it so clearly, seeing her leaping and bounding across skeletal remains hanging precariously from old tendrils of vine. The spiny mandrilla closed on her heels and he could do nothing but watch, screaming her name out in desperation until his throat went raw. "I screwed up and almost didn't get to fix it."

Guy felt Eep nudge his head away from her so they could look at each other properly again. She just traced her thumb over his cheek, tender as she marked one of his hand print shaped bruises. "You saved me," she finally said, leaning forward to steal a kiss, smiling against his lips as they brushed, once, twice and finally a proper one that had Guy's toes curling and his head fuzzy. "I was so happy when I saw you again, Guy."

He'd been more than shocked to have seen Eep and the others arrive, riding Chunky and a pack of wolfspiders. He had practically given his last rights, resolving painfully he would never see her again, never fix what he had done to her. His first and only love, he didn't need to meet any other girls to know what he felt was real and it was more than just a beautiful teenage romance.

"You want to talk about heroics? How many people come swooping in on a tiger and take on a giant monster single handedly," Guy pressed his forehead against hers, awed by her courage and humbled by her love for him. "And here I picked a tree over you."

"It wasn't just a tree," she lightly scolded him much to his surprise. "I get it now."

Guy felt moisture collect on his eyelashes and without another thought, closed the distance between them once more. He let his hands roam, touching every part of her out of fear he would forget how warm and solid her body felt in his arms. It was almost like a dream, eyes shut tightly and listening to the soft little gasps in her breath, the way her chest heaved against his own. He hated needing to breathe when all he wanted was this, reluctantly pulling away as he felt light headed, exhilarated and breathless.

"Never again," he promised her, nuzzling his nose against hers. Eep practically purred at the loving attention, letting her palms rest on his shoulders to gently knead the tension there. He shuddered, forehead pressed into hers, knowing the gesture meant so much more than simple touch to her. "I'd rather chop off both my legs than lose you again. Please never scare me like that, I couldn't bare it."

She kissed his lips, gentle before in all her passionate nature, looped her arms around his neck and kissed him enough that Guy was convinced he'd forget his own name.

But that was okay, because she reminded him, pulling away. "Guy, I love you," she only said, beaming at him.

"Please say it again," he pleaded.

"I love you."

He felt his eyes growing glassy again and Eep kissed a tear away from below his eye, soft and tender. He smiled at her, embracing her tightly once more from his comfortable position in her lap. "I love you more," he murmured, kissing her shoulder.

"I love you more," she protested, lightly shoving him to nibble his ear, feeling his weight push into her.

"No, I said I love you more first."

"And I'm telling you I love you more right back," she purred, lifting her neck to give him better access to her jawline when he started to press an open mouth kiss there.

He felt her pulse rush under his lips like she'd ran a marathon, skin flushed as red as her hair. He couldn't help but kiss her again and again.

"You're so stubborn," he grumbled good naturedly, nuzzling her.

"Takes one to know one, babe." Eep grinned at him, stroking the nape of his neck and fiddling with his top knot.

It was just them now and feeling thrilled that he had her to himself, gently nudged her down, feeling her eyes bore into his. Guy braced his arms above her, not caring his muscles throbbed in protest. He could see the sun as it set shimmering there, burning with more than mere fire.

Her eyes were nearly amber in the low light of the evening, glinting with love. Those same eyes reminded him of the first night they met, curious and glowing as the fire flickered. He touched her face, fingers curling under her chin, taking in her flushed cheeks and kiss swollen lips. It was a good look for her. She was beautiful, and no amount of sleeping suns in the sky would ever compare.

There must have been something in his expression for he saw her tremble and emotion swelled within him as he shut his eyes. He ached in more ways than just the pain from the ordeal with getting pummeled by a bunch of punch monkeys.

No more words were spoken for a long time, whoever reached for whom first he didn't care. All that mattered was now she was in his arms, heart pressed against heart and the gentle whispers of breath against lips. She arched into him and it took all his might to remember how to breathe. She palmed his shoulder suddenly with a growl, pushing him beneath her and he didn't fight her.

No one and no thing would ever separate them again, he thought as he caught her lips once more in a fluid movement.

Grug had panicked when he realized Guy and Eep had disappeared. After today, who could really blame him for it? Everyone was quick to volunteer to find them, Ugga crouching to encourage Sandy to use that skilled sense of smell of hers. The fierce little tot bounded into the fields, disappearing into the tall grass and crops.

"She's got the scent!" Gran exclaimed, hobbling after her youngest granddaughter.

Grug just worried and worried, Ugga absently massaging a kink out of his large neck. "Relax, the farm is safe. I'm sure Eep and Guy are alright, Grug."

"Still," he began with a frown. "I'd feel better knowing that with my own eyes, honey."

They'd followed Sandy through the gardens, the farther they went the more Grug fretted. It felt too long when Sandy finally paused, several large bushes and crops shielding the view. She pawed in the direction of it, turning to giggle and pounce into Ugga's awaiting arms.

"Good girl, Sandy," she praised, pressing her cheek against hers fondly.

Grug lead the way, parting the foliage. Everyone shoved about behind him and attempted to peak around him, making the caveman huff in annoyance.

The family came upon the couple hidden amongst the fields of other worldly produce, cozy together on the grass as they traded needy little kisses. Alternating between whispering, giggling and pressing a small kiss here or there, Guy and Eep were content in their bubble. Guy was curled up as content as a house cat right in her lap, Eep's arms around him in a hug. The sight would have infuriated Grug once upon a time ago but he'd seen a lot in just two days.

Things changed and so did he. His daughter deserved happiness and having seen just how broken Guy had been over her, he knew it wasn't just puppy love.

It was full grown.

"Aw," Dawn gushed as she peeked over Grug's shoulders, standing on her tiptoes. "How cute, are they always like that?"

The typical young boy that he was, Thunk made a face, his travel window lowering. "Bleh," he only said. "Again already?"

Gran snorted and leaned over to Dawn to say inconspicuously, "You have no idea, smart girl."

Belt's only response from around Dawn's torso was to make a swooning gesture, unwinding an arm to drape it over his face. Dawn chuckled when immediately after the sloth was gushing over Sash who'd leaned down to nuzzle noses with Guy's little friend. "I get the picture."

Hope folded her hands to her chest, "I can't believe we tried breaking them up… who does that?"

The words Hope said affected Grug more than he wanted to admit and guilt swelled inside him.

Ugga patted him gently on the shoulder, rousing her mate's quiet contemplation. "Well?" Ugga asked him in that soft voice of hers, gray eyes shifting back towards Guy and Eep.

"Leave them be," Grug told her and the others, shaking his head with a reserved little smile. He felt sad but there was a fatherly resolve in his heart. Eep would always be his little girl but he had to accept she had her own life to live now.

One with many Tomorrows that he knew Guy could give her, there was no doubt the young man was going to give her the world on a silver platter. The thought of her leaving was like a knife in his heart, even Guy would be a tough bone to swallow, after all, Grug had called him son. And as a father, he only wanted what was best for them, even if it meant it wasn't here with him anymore.

Gran stomped her cane on the grass. "Who are you and what have you done with our Lunkhead?"

Grug grunted, "What? I'm not allowed to have a change of heart now?"

Ugga leaned her head against his fondly. "I'm proud of you, big guy."

Grug didn't want to get emotional, feeling the moisture gather in his eyes. Phil threw an arm over his shoulders on the side Ugga didn't occupy.

"Something on your mind, bro?" His eyes were sympathetic.

He sniffled, "Nothing, really." Grug shrugged Phil's arm off and sighed.

"You can tell me," Phil encouraged, lifting a hand in an encouraging manner.

"I don't wanna."

"I'm knocking on the door, big guy. Let me in!" He persisted.

Grug side eyed him, knowing no matter what he said the lanky Betterman was going to get his way. "It's just… gonna be hard to let them go," he said, the words slightly warbled. He was a big scary caveman but he'd always been soft in the heart despite the stoney exterior.

Gran scoffed, the old matriarch beginning to hobble away. "There's our Grug now. The big baby."

Phil patted him on the back, "There, there, it'll be alright. Besides, I have a solution to your little problem."

He looked uncertain as Phil led him away from the serene couple, the rest of the family following behind. "What do you mean 'solution'?"

"Let's just say it's a wedding present for our favorite pair of lovebirds, Gruggers. You can help me get it ready, they'll take one look at it and want to stay forever." Phil then fondly nudged his friend's back. "Just please learn to use doors, Guy won't be happy if you tear a hole in their little love nest. Knocking will save you a lot of grief too."

"Love nest?" Grug echoed and for a moment the protective father that wanted to smother his daughter peeked out.

Before he could regret his decision, it was a joint effort to shove him towards the large tree on the property, hefting a sigh and pouting as Ugga just laughed.

And oblivious to the world around them, Guy and Eep stayed stuck together, joint by the heart.

[wnterflower-a]

so  yesterday  i  posted  what  my  personal  werewolf  lore  was  and  so  today  you’re  getting  my  vampire  lore . like  i  stated  in  my  wolf  lore , this  is  open  to  tweaking  and  picking  and  choosing  if  things  don’t  match  up  with  your  lore . we  can  make  things  work  between  our  lores ( : 

also  like  my werewolf  lore , i  will  more  than  likely  add  as  i  go  on  and  more  things  come  to  me .

✚  unlike  lycanthropy , vampirism  is  a  disease  alone . you  cannot  pass  it  down  .

✚  there  is  no  known  information  as  to  how  the  first  vampire  originated . the  oldest  known  vampire  is  from  the  early  1100s , and  he’s  become  so  decrepit  and  crazy  from  living  such  a  long  life  that  nobody  has  ever  gotten  a  straight  or  same  answer .  ✚  the  only  way  someone  can  become  a  person  is  if  they’re  killed  with  a  vampire’s  blood  in  their  system . this  is  usually  done  by  drinking  a  vampire’s  blood  but  it  can’t  also  be  injected , or poured  into  an  open  wound . ✚  vampires  who  sire  new  vampires  often  have  a  connection  to  their  fledglings  in  the  first  couple  of  days . this  can  influence  a  fledeling’s  habits . for  example : a  vampire  on  a  binge  who  sires  another  vampire  during  this  time  will  usually  result  in  the  fledgling  going  on  a  binge  as  well . ✚  a  sire  can  also  feel  when  a  fledgling  has  been  killed  and  vice  versa . however  the  other  passed , the  other  feels  similar  effects  and  pain , though  at  a  muted  level . unless  they’re  older , the  moment  incapacitates  the  vampire  for  at  least  a  day .

✚  vampires  are  strongest  during  the  full  moon  and  weakest  during  the  new  moon . 

✚  if  a  vampire  is  well-fed  during  a  full  moon , their  strength .  ✚  on  the  other  hand , a  vampire  during  a  new  moon  often  has  a  larger  appetite  and  have  less  self-restraint  when  it  comes  to  feeding . during  new  moons  are  when  turnings  are  usually  at  their  highest  rate .

✚  vampires  live  in  what  are  called  covens . 

✚  covens  are  usually  led  by  one  head , though  larger  covens  have  been  known  to  have  more  than  one .  ✚  covens  tend  to  house  together  or  in  the  same  area ( ie : all  in  the  same  apartment  complex / neighborhood ) . they  feel  a  pull  to  the  members  to  stay  close  by  one  another  in  case  of  any  sort  of  threats .  ✚  covens  often  are  very  selective  and  exclusive . siring  is  something  you  get  permission  from  your  head  and  if  you  don’t , older  covens  are  known  for  kicking  the  member  out .  ✚  ‘ lost  covens ‘ are  covens  that  are  mainly  made  up  of  around  ten  older  vampires  and  abandoned  fledglings . they’re  considered ‘ modern ‘ covens  and  sneered  at  by  the  older  generations . 

✚  attributes  to  vampires  include : inhuman  strength , senses  and  grace , supernatural  healing  abilities , and  immortality  as  well  as  certain  physical  appearance  changes .

✚  vampires  are  stronger  than  werewolves . their  strength  allows  them  to  jump  higher  and  further . as  they  age  they  become  stronger .  ✚  they’re  extremely  graceful  and  are  light-footed . their  footsteps  are  silent ,  and  since  they  don’t  actually  need  to  breathe  you  can’t  usually  hear  them  come  up  behind  you .  ✚  their  sight , smell , hearing  and  taste  are  all enhanced ; all  stronger  for  the  hunt . their  hearing  they  can  kind  of  control  like  one  would  the  volume  on  their  headphones  and  their  sight  can  span  up  to  about  a  half  mile  away . they  can smell  and  taste  things  like , alcohol  and  drugs  in  someone’s  blood  system . ( this  often  gives  a  vampire  similar  side  effects  and  seeked  out  at  times . ) ✚  they’re  immortal  but  can  be  killed . the  easiest  way  is  by  staking  them , but  you  can  also  decapitate  them  or  burn  them  alive  by  stranding  them  in  direct  sunlight . ✚  a  vampire’s  eyes  are  usually  a  reddish-brown  color ( #762700  to  #6A2300  for  html  color  reference ) . the  younger  the  vampire  the  lighter  the  eye  color . ✚  they’re  skin  is  normally  a  lighter  than  when  they  were  human  but  their  don’t  lose  all  of  their  melanin .  ✚  their  fangs  are  retractable , but  their  canines  are  sharper  than  the  average  human  beings .  ✚  they  are  very  attractive  beings . if  you  weren’t  attractive  as  a  human  you  sure  as  hell  are  now .  ✚  they  give  off  a  natural  pheromone  that  lures  humans  in  unknowingly . to  werewolves  they  just  smell  like  they  put  too  much  perfume / cologne  on .  

✚  even  the  oldest  of  vampires  cannot  walk  in  direct  sunlight . 

✚  sunlight  burns  them , and  can  cause  second  to  third  degree  burns . ✚  a  vampire  can  walk  in  direct  sunlight  with  the  help  of  daylight  jewelry . these  are  often  in  the  form  of  rings  and  necklaces , though  bracelets , watches  and  hair pieces  have  also  been  seen . the  most  common  stone  used  is  lapis  lazuli  but  moonstone  harvest  during  a  full  moon  also  works . ✚  they  cannot  walk  around  without  their  daylight  accessories  in  cloudy  or  rainy  weather . it’s  thought  that  the  uv  rays  are  what  effect  them  not  necessarily  just  the  sun’s  rays .

✚  their  bodies  only  receive  nutrients  from  blood , but  they  can  eat  actual  food .

✚  while  they  can  eat  human  food  for  the  sake  of  looking  normal , they  will  end  up  throwing  it  up  later  on  in  the  day . their  bodies  cannot  digest  actual  food  anymore .  ✚  fresh  blood  is  the  best  option  when  feeding , though  bagged  blood  and  even  the  blood  of  the  already  deceased  and  animals  will  work . much  like  produce  though , the  fresher  the  better  though .

✚  a  majority  of  vampire  ‘ weaknesses ‘ are  all  fake .

✚  mirrors : vampires  can  see  their  reflections  in  the  mirror  as  can  others .  ✚  garlic : it  doesn’t  keep  them  away  but  it  does  smell  and  they  don’t  like  it . it’s  not  going  to  keep  them  away . ✚  holy water & religious symbols : holy  water  stings , but  does  not  burn . ingesting  it  in  large  amounts  will  make  one  sick  though . religious  symbols  burn , but  some  vampires  will  grow  immune  to  it  if  they  wear  it  long  enough  even  then  though  ✚  invitation : a  vampire  does  not  need  an  invite  in  order  to  enter  a  residence .   

✚  vampires  can  feel  pain , though  in  a  very  vague  sense 

✚  major  and  minor  cuts  and  stabbing ( with  anything  other  than  a  wooden  stake )  feel  usually  no  more  like  a  papercut  or  a  cat  scratch ✚  direct  sunlight  will  give  second  to  third  degree  burns  depending  on  how  long  one  is  exposed  to  it . it  feels  like  a  very , very  bad  sunburn . if  exposed  for  too  long  though  it  will  kill  a  vampire . 

✚  this  are  a  few  ways  you  can  kill  a  vampire .

✚   it  must  be  to  the  heart  though  in  order  to  work . otherwise  you’ve  got  a  very  irate  vampire . any  sort  of  wood  will  do  for  the  job . ✚  decapitating  a  vampire  will  result  in  death .  ✚  prolonged  exposure  to  sunlight . ✚  starvation will  eventually  kill  a  vampire , though  it  is  a  long , slow , painful  process  and  usually  a  vampire’s  choice  of  killing  another  vampire .

✚  they  do  not  have  any  correlation  with  bats  and  honestly  don’t  know  where  that  thought  came  from . 

✚ they don’t  say  bleh , bleh , bleh .  

✚ vampires  are  able  to  have  children , but  as  stated  in  the  first  bullet  point , the  vampire  disease  does  not  carry  over .

✚ females  are  not  able  to  have  children .

✚  because  of  this , females  are  known  to  turn  children  as  young  as  three  years  old  . ✚ vampires  who  are  turned  so  young , and  up  to  age  thirteen  are  often  killed  off  early  on  because  while  their  minds  mature  and  grow  their  bodies  do  not  and  they  often  go  mad  because  of  it .

✚ many  older  vampires ( around  as  young  as  one  hundred  depending  on  self-restraint  and  work  ethic )  are  financially  well  off . this  is  just  due  to  being  able  to  save  for  so  long .

✚  many  vampires  know  how  to  play  the  system  such  as  the  stock  market  and  pull  out  before  anything  crashes .  ✚ many  are  in  new  technology . it  isn’t  uncommon  for  a  vampire  to  be  the  founder  of  a  new  social  media  platform  or  app , especially  in  this  day  and  age . ✚ some  just  spent  the  early  days  looting .

✚ vampires  are  able  to  compulse  somebody  to  do  something . 

✚  this  is  normally  how  vampires  get  consent  to  feed  on  live  humans . ✚  this  is  always  a  temporary  thing . you  cannot  influence  somebody  for  an  extended  time  into  the  future  and  fades  the  farther  you  move  away  from  said  person . so  you  can’t  tell  somebody  to  do  something  in  the  future  past  an  hour  ( or  up  to  six  hours  later  if  you  are  particularly  skilled  in  this  area )  ✚ while  most  people  have  a  fuzzy  recollection  of  that  happened , most  don’t  remember  it  at  all . the  feeling  is  similar  to  being  blacked  out .  ✚ you  can  warp  a  memory  from  the  influence  but  it  doesn’t  extend  past  changing  your  appearance  in  the  case  the  person  remembers .  ✚ older  vampires  can  use  this  on  younger  vampires  as  well . in  this  case  it’s  usually  with  younger  fledglings  who  are  messengers . 

✚ vampires  are  very  territorial .  

✚ this  differs  slightly  from  werewolves . while  werewolves  are  territory  in  a  land  sort  of  sense , vampires  are  in  a  feeding  ground  sense ??? ✚ basically  werewolves  don’t  like  each  other  on  their  property  at  all . sure  they  have  to  co-exist  in  the  same  area  and  often  cross  pack  territory  lines  on  a  regular  basis  but  it  doesn’t  necessarily  like  it . ( take  my  muse  jimin  for  example . the guy  HATES  non-pack  members  stepping  foot  into  his  house  and  if  he  could  avoid  walking  into  another  pack’s  territory  he  wold ) . meanwhile , vampires  don’t  care  where  you  go  as  long  as  you  don’t  feed  in  their  area .  ✚ a  vampire  marks  their  coven’s  feeding  ground  perimeters  by  usually  leaving  a  ‘ blood  mark ‘  on  things  such  as  telephone  poles , fences , etc . ✚ a  blood  mark  is  exactly  what  it  sounds  like . the  coven  leader  uses  an  open  wound  to  stain  the  object  with  their  blood . even  when  washed  away  or  dried , a  vampire  can  smell  the  blood  and  usually  knows  to  steer  clear . ✚ these  marks  aren’t  permanent  though  and  usually  need  to  be  redone  every  month to  month  in  a  half  depending  on  what  the  weather  is  like . in  the  winter  they  can  last  up  to  almost  three months . ✚ crossing  feeding  lines  and  feeding  there  commonly  results  in  death . the  coven  of  the  vampire  who  crossed  lines  doesn’t  hold  it  against  the  other  because  it’s  viewed  as  SUPER disrespectful . 

[gasp-iwrotesomething]

prompt idea, sort of going off a couple of the earlier ones you've done - xenia finds out she's carrying the heir instead of mc after they use gideon's potion and they have to figure out how it happened; maybe include a reference to xenia's dream of starting a family coming true after all, even if it's not the way she expected (if you'd like).

Wow, this is such a cool prompt idea, anon! I would love to write this for you! Also, when you said ‘she’s carrying the heir instead of mc’, I assume you mean that the child is the heir instead of MC--do correct me if I’m wrong though. Thanks for requesting and I hope you enjoy! (Sorry this got out so late, had a moment where I lost motivation 😬)

Summary: Xenia and MC discover that the heir to the throne isn’t MC... but the baby flourishing in the Spymistress’ belly. The two of them must investigate the cause of the weird phenomena all while Xenia struggles to come to terms with the fact that she’s becoming mother.

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How could this be?

Xenia paces restlessly, her chin stroked with thought as the room seems to spin with her footsteps. How could the heir be... Her extra set of arms wrap around the swollen bump where her child rests--grows and listens to the world through her belly button. She wondered if the child could feel her heart thumping--if it could feel the stress wobbling her composure. Stress... A tip advised by Gideon flares in her mind about pregnancy and she stops, taking a deep breath to soothe herself. Stress wasn’t healthy for the baby; Xenia had to keep that in mind for the sake of her child. Of the rightful heir of Altadellys. Still, even after a few hours of sitting on the newfound scrap of news, Xenia could not believe it. MC wasn’t the heir--their baby was. The baby that had been conceived through one of Gideon’s magical potions after Xenia and MC had decided to become mothers together. Maybe it was inappropriate and selfish to think but Xenia found the second portion to be the most enthralling part--the one about her making the decision to become a mother. Just a span or so ago, Xenia was unable to perceive a reality where she bore children--where she was able to indulge in her dreams rather than leave them out of grief and acceptance. Now here she was: far enough along to stick out like a sore thumb among the nimble and slim nobles of Lysende.

MC enters the room then. Her arms are laden with various massaging oils, scented candles, and sweets that had been of Xenia’s request. “Special delivery for the gorgeous Mistress of Spies,” MC teases. Those elated, freckled features rise then fall at the sight of Xenia’s perplexed and utterly crestfallen face. “Xenia, is there something wrong? Is it your back again?” Quickly but carefully, MC sprawls the ingredients across the nearest surface and approaches her stricken wife, who sighs and absently rubs her belly. “No, it isn’t so much a problem with me as it is a problem-” Xenia’s eyes open again and her gaze is a white monument of anxiety and worry befalling MC “-a problem between the two of us.” MC blinks, even more confused, her brows dwindling down into a perch of concern. What was bothering Xenia? Was it... was it their baby? With that question in tow, MC is at Xenia’s side within moments with an arm cautiously wrapped around her waist. “I don’t understand. Is there something wrong with our baby? Did Gideon find a side effect to that potion-?!” The redhead’s intrinsic questions are snuffed out when Xenia tugs her into a tight hug, her protruding belly pressed against MC’s midsection. MC returns the embrace with all that she has since she knew that something had happened and that it had saddened--or at least perturbed--Xenia. Her wife was always composed and cool, never one to emit her true emotions unless she was comfortable with the person in question. Now, with how vulnerable she seemed to be, MC feared that something had gone terribly wrong. Was it the potion? The pregnancy? Her age? Gideon had said her age might affect her pregnancy but still... why not tell me? 

“It’s not physically affecting neither me nor our child,” Xenia prefaces in MC’s fiery red hair, “it’s something that I’m afraid trivializes our entire plan to place you on the throne.” That shocks MC. After a moment more, MC pulls away from Xenia and grasps her tenderly by the arms encircling her waist. In MC’s, the spymaster’s hands felt like an embrace continued; something MC could revel in for comfort. “What? Xenia, I’m not sure I understand still. It trivializes our plan?” She watches as Xenia’s delicate eyes fade into something grim--the gentle concern melting away into glum reality. The look made MC fear the worst. “Gideon summoned me to the tower for an intrinsic meeting this morning, claiming that there had been a new discovery born from his extensive research. He had said that the potion had little to no side effects when we retrieved the potion but he had assured that the side effects were minor--nothing to worry for, correct?” Xenia’s explanation lulls with a brief question and MC nods, wanting to hear more. Her dark lips thin as she continues, eyes suddenly a distance away. “Well, after months of more intensive studies, Gideon has contrived that there was one more significant side effect. One that could threaten the welfare of our effective plan to place the crown upon your head as rightful Queen of Lysende. How it works is still being thoroughly sleuthed but the effect is that... that the child is now the heir; not you, dear.”

Like a punch to the gut, MC’s breath is sucked away and her previously formed thoughts swim.

“I... I am no longer to be crowned Queen? Our baby is-?” Everything fails her, including words, which coalesce then dangle uselessly from her mouth. Xenia continues to observe her reaction as an arm strokes her back, coaxing the tumult inside her to thin. “No one knows that you are no longer heir,” Xenia assures softly, the illusion of professional equanimity falling over her, “other than Gideon and I. That is why I believe that we can still manage to continue with our original plot. But the problem arises with where the rightful heir is--it would seem frugal and improper to steal the crown from the child who had little to do with it all.” Suddenly, the atmosphere becomes much thicker and prone to splintering under pressure; a feeble but heavy air. MC ponders their options all while tracing the concerned lines of Xenia’s face. She lets go of Xenia’s hand to touch her swollen stomach, mind askew. The breath of life within doesn’t react to the touch, which in a twisted and slightly selfish sense made MC feel as though it was ignoring her. But that’s not true; it’s still early in the pregnancy, there’s little chance that our baby will kick now. Xenia overlaps their hands and they share a solemn silence, as if giving their condolences to the plan they had toiled over for so long. “I’m unsure of how to feel,” MC finally shatters the carefully sewn silence, “but I know of how to think. We must try to figure out why this has happened. It is only right--for not only our plan, but for our baby.”

The redhead’s voice softens as her emerald eyes gaze down at Xenia’s belly--the space where a child woven from their genetics was flourishing.

Though her words don’t wipe away the sad glint in Xenia’s eyes, they do cause a gentle smile to curve her thinned lips. She slants to her wife and presses a kiss to her temple. “I believe they agree with you, darling,” she grasps MC’s hand and relocates her palm to a lower position on her belly, “I felt it move when you said that. Our baby gives its blessing.” The Spymistress coos softly, her tonality one of motherly love along with melting affection. It was hard to remain disdained after that. MC laughs gently, cheeks coloring, as she rubs circles in the spot Xenia relegated her hand to. “Good. I don’t believe it would want it’s mother to wear herself rugged.” Though her hands frame the swoop of Xenia’s stomach, she feels little to no movement--just a gentle flutter that could go unnoticed if MC wasn’t so focused on feeling something. Xenia’s crackling laugh follows and a hand sifts through MC’s hair. “Perhaps. If it is your child truly then I believe compassion and empathy will be its birthright.” That makes MC blush but she doesn’t deny Xenia’s gentle acclaims--masked compliments disguised. To abate the flush in her cheeks, MC throws her head to the side to the range of ingredients laid out on the table. “I do believe you are due for some pampering, Mistress Xenia. If there is nothing to be done today, of course.” MC’s fiery brow cocks and she slinks her arm around Xenia’s waist; a suggestive touch. Xenia thinks for a moment, running over all of the plans congregating in her mind, before nodding with a faint smirk.

“I do believe I am free for the day. Do you think you could cure me of all of these hardships of bearing, dearest MC?” Xenia quips back, gently, like the brush of a thousand feathers.

MC is already scampering towards the items in question, a goofy grin on her lips.

“You won’t ever know what it feels like to be without a cure; promise!”

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Thanks again for the request! I hope this could live up to your expectations cause I loved writing this for you 😘

If you want to request something, here’s the Prompt List, here are the Guidelines, here’s Who I Write For, and here is where you can Request me.

[ivegotaheadlineforyou]

Welcome to the Dust Bowl

The Dust Bowl is the Hadestown modern au that @ratcarney and I have been working on for a long time. Welcome to the Dust Bowl, Hermes’ bar, and the world surrounding it. Orpheus bartends, Persephone owns a flower shop, Hades runs an electricity infrastructure company, and Eurydice is just trying to make it through the work day and get to graduation. Here, you’ll meet some of our major players, and get a glimpse into their world. 

Somehow Jo and I have made this world that now encompases about 4 google docs, spans over 25K words worth of fics and headcanons (and that’s only counting the ones we haven’t lost to tumblr messenger), involves way more office romance and family drama than we ever could have predicted, and Keeps Us Up At Night. So here’s your entry point into the world.

You can see Seph and Eurydice here.

(written by me: developed with Jo)

Summer was lingering into September. There wasn’t a September in recent memory that brought such beautiful sun, such delicious warmth. Days were long, nights warm, and she had never felt as full as she did right now.

But her days still started early and ended late. Eurydice’s alarm buzzed every morning at ten to seven. Some mornings when she woke up, she was greeted by the sight of a sleeping Poet, or to the sound of soft talking in the next room over, usually Hermes. This morning was more solitary. She woke up alone in her bed, stretching to turn off the alarm.

Eurydice’s apartment wasn’t tidy, per se, but it was functional — a studio, most of the space occupied by the biggest bed she could afford, a small love seat she had found for cheap online, and a kitchen that was more a glorified cabinet with a sink, a hot plate, and a coffee machine. Also plants. When Seph first came over to check out her digs, she was appalled by the lack of greenery. Now every spare inch of space that received even an ounce of sunlight was filled with plants. 

Her alarm sang and she begrudgingly pulled herself out of bed, and into the shower. She quickly fired off a text to the Poet as she waited for the water to heat up. She hadn’t seen him last night and it was now odd when she went more than a day without seeing him.

E: good morning poet 🌝 💞

She smiled to herself — he never did understand her emojis, but he put up with them. She knew it would be a couple hours before she heard anything back from him. The life of a bartender meant long nights and

Her morning went on uneventfully — She showered, got dressed in a black silk blouse and grey slacks, which made for appropriate, if boring, work attire, but she stashed another shirt in her bag for class, packed her school bag, and then was out the door. She would normally make coffee for herself but she had just paid her tuition and hadn’t had the cash to grocery shop that week. She would make some as soon as she got to the office.

Eurydice tried to get to work early — at least an hour before the boss man. She got more work done when he wasn’t around. Hadestown Corp was one of the largest businesses in the city. It provided infrastructure and electricity to all the big buildings in the state, and it was all run by Mister Hades himself. Eurydice used to work as his secretary, and it was a fine job but it was only part time work. She was smart, and Hades could see that. He could see that she would be better in a bigger role, so he promoted her to his personal assistant. They made a good team, even if she did refer to him as a dirty capitalist every once in a while.

***

Hades liked structure. Liked routine. He liked respect. He had worked tirelessly for over twenty years building the company to where it needed to be, building up a team of people that worked hard. He knew how to play his roles and took pride in how well he played them. To his wife, he was a loyal and strong husband. To his employees, he was the CEO, the fearless leader. 

In short, Hades didn’t truly make much note of the personal lives of his employees. 

Eurydice was the one exception. And he did not make it willingly. 

He walked into his office, nodding to Eurydice as he passed her desk. She had her headphones on, her legs crossed in her chair and she was busy typing something on the computer. She half waved at him, mumbling “give me ten” as he walked into his office. 

When she walked in, she had folders for him. 

“Good morning, Eurydice,” Hades said, sipping his coffee. 

“Don’t see what’s good about it, but yeah, good morning to you too,” she said, only half paying attention to him, her attention on the files in her hand. He rolled his eyes at her. 

“I need you to sign off on vacation time for a couple people — Ahmad, Tim, and Jessie all put in requests last week,” she placed a folder on his desk, her eyes focused and her movements sharp. “I want to get it back to them, like, yesterday. And then I need you to sign off on catering for the office holiday party.” She placed the next folder on top of the other one. 

“Which place?” He said, putting on his glasses to glance over the forms. 

“Same people as last time. But we’re doing open bar — I’m not being in charge of drink tickets again, and you’ve got the cash to spend so why not spend it on us.” Once again, he rolled his eyes at her. 

“Anything else?” 

“Uhh, yes. Guest lists for the fundraiser in November. I’ve already run it by Seph, and she approves.”

“I really wish you would stop referring to my wife so casually. I don’t refer to your partner in such a way.”

“Yeah,” Eurydice scoffed. “That’s because Persephone is my friend, and you instill the fear of the Gods in my boyfriend.”

He held his hand out and took the guest list and seating chart from her, opening it to glance at what his wife had added to the list. “I’ll make some changes and once I’ve signed off on it, I’ll let you know.”

Eurydice made a face at him, and raised her hands in surrender. “If Seph gets angry, I’ve got nothing to do with it,” She said as she turned to leave his office. “Your meetings are all updated in the calendar!”

“Thank you,” He murmured low enough that she could hear him say something but couldn’t make it out. She shut the door behind her, and he pulled up their shared calendar. It all looked the same as it had yesterday — meetings about the southern expansion of the company, mostly, but towards the middle of the day, there was a 40 minute slot just titled “Personal” with a ... was that a leaf emoji? He shook his head, making a mental note to remind Eurydice to stop using emojis on the company calendar. 

But he knew exactly what that personal slot meant. Lunch with the Misses. The day couldn’t go by fast enough. 

***

Some days it felt like wherever Persephone went, the sunshine followed. She didn’t spend much time around the office, but when she stopped by, it felt like a breath of fresh air. She brought flowers with her, plants for desks, and lots of smiles to the workers. 

Where Hades wore pinstripes, dark suits and polished shoes, she wore thrift store finds. When she walked into the office on this day, she was wearing a jumpsuit in her signature green, belted at the waist, and her hair piled up high on top of her head. 

“Hey sweet thing,” she said waving to Jessie as she walked in. Jessie had taken over Eurydice’s old gig when she was promoted, and the young girl always had a smile to spare for Persephone. Seph stopped for a moment to lean over her desk. 

“Good peonies won’t be around for another few weeks. I promise I didn’t forget,” she whispered, winking at Jessie. The young girl smiled wide. 

“Oh Miss —“ Jessie started, but Persephone cut her off. 

“Don’t ‘oh Miss Persephone’ me,” she said, pulling a small succulent out of her bag and placing it on her desk. “Now, if I catch you watering this more than once every two weeks, you’ll be in trouble!”

She continued her rounds. A sweet fern for Tim. A potted violet for Kimberly. Daisies for Afra. Foxglove and mint for the HR team. 

“And for you,” she said, walking over to Eurydice’s desk. “Something from Mister Hermes.” She pulled a wrapped sandwich out of her bag, and passed it to the girl. She rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. 

“Thanks, Seph,” she said, unwrapping it to see that it was one of the BLTs that she loved so much. “I’ll thank him when I see him tonight.”

“Don’t you have class tonight?”

She nodded, and sipped at her coffee. “Yup. Til seven, then I’ll head to the Dust Bowl.”

Seph slipped into an absolutely shit eating grin. “To see your Poet?” Eurydice laughed and shoved at her arm. 

“Yes, to see my Poet,” she said, half-delighting in the way Seph smiled. She had been the one to introduce them, to shove them together in a sense. She had known Orpheus since he moved in with Hermes, and started working the bar, and when she met Eurydice, she thought that they would hit it off. But the duo they had become had exceeded her expectations. 

“Well I might see you then. But now,” she said, picking up her bag and tapping Eurydice’s nose. “I’ve got a hot date.” Eurydice laughed and said goodbye as Seph walked up to Hades’ office door, knocking as she let herself in. 

Hades looked up from his paperwork, and smiled as soon as he saw his wife. 

“You’re early,” he said, standing up and walking over to her. He wrapped his arms around her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. He leaned in to kiss her, and as their lips met, he dipped her slightly, just so that he could feel her smile against his lips. 

“I missed ya,” she mumbled before pulling away. He took her hand and led her to the desk. He pulled one of the chairs around so she could sit next to him. 

She placed her bag on his desk and he got to work unpacking the lunch she had brought them. Chicken with soft herbs. Fresh vegetables from her garden. She spoiled him and he knew it. But she loved to do it. 

Her husband had whatever the opposite of a green thumb was — the company he had worked so hard to build was in direct opposition to the wilderness and nature that she loved so dearly. But her man was just that — he was just a man. A bit of a softie when it came to her, and just perfect for her. 

So they sat and ate, and he held her hand, and smiled at her with those damn eyes of his. They looked like polar opposites from afar, but they had one thing in common—they loved each other fiercely. 

***

Hermes was the owner of the Dust Bowl—a mix between a student bar and someplace a little more trendy. Either way, it was a hole in the wall. You had to know it was there in order to find it. He had been running the joint for well over 30 years. When he was laid off from the post office years ago, he took his severance package and invested the lot into this place. He gave it all he had. 

And gods, it just kept on giving back to him. 

He lived in the apartment above the bar, had lived there since he bought the joint. The Dust Bowl was his whole life. It was where he met Calliope, a young girl in a desperate situation. She had frequented the bar in it’s early days until she found out that she was pregnant and on her own. Hermes was there, along with her sisters, to walk with her through it all.

When Orpheus was born, Cal asked Hermes to be the boy’s Godfather. Which meant that he got to see Orpheus whenever he could, was there to watch him grow up, play his first instrument. It meant that, when Cal found out she was sick, when she found out she wasn’t going to get better, and when she passed away, leaving behind a boy of seventeen, Hermes had to be there to pick up the pieces.

 He shared the space with Orpheus for a little while after Cal died. He barely ate, barely spoke, barely moved. It took long months of support, lots of tears, and finally some tough love from his Godfather and Aunt Euterpe, but he slowly started moving. He started playing music again. He started living again. They lived together until recently, when the boy decided he needed his own space -- he was ready for it. It was always a temporary arrangement anyway, and Hermes was glad to see him up on his feet. 

The Dust Bowl had given him Calliope, a beautiful friendship. It gave him Orpheus, too, his sweet godson. And as time went on, it gave him Seph. And now Eurydice. 

The dinner rush was just starting, and Hermes threw an apron at the boy behind the bar. “You’ll wreck your clothes if you don’t put this on,” He said laughing, and Orpheus smiled and slipped it on, going back to pulling drafts. 

Hermes still worked the bar every so often, but he spent most of the time at his spot, ringing in orders and watching the ebb and flow of patrons. He liked his perch, liked getting to know who came in and when, and who they were with and why. 

“Will Eurydice be stopping by tonight?” Hermes asked Orpheus when he was finished with customers. Orpheus nodded,  wiping down a couple glasses. 

“She just texted, and she said she was on her way soon,” Orpheus said with a smile. Every time that boy smiled, Hermes wanted to knock on wood, point to the skies. It was a rough go after Orpheus lost his mom, and for a while, it felt like they would never see him smile again. 

Then Eurydice entered their lives and it felt like it was only uphill. She had been living in town for years, taking classes at the university and working for Hadestown Corp. But it was only when she had been promoted to Hades’ assistant, and when she met Seph, that she stepped into the Dust Bowl for the first time. With her, she brought a cool breeze and the feeling that something exciting might happen. And she upended their lives for the better.

Hermes was broken from his train of thought by the sound of the bell on the door.

“Speak of the girl, and she shall appear!” 

***

The sound of Hermes words and his laugh made the Poet perk up, smiling as he saw the girl walk through the door. 

The regular patrons knew Orpheus and Eurydice from afar, so they just smiled when he left his post at the bar to run over and greet her. She reached up to cup his cheek, and he placed a soft hand at her waist, as they leaned in to share a quick kiss. She pulled him in, and was the one to pull back. Always in control, she was, and he was always willing to let her take it.

“How was class?” He asked, taking her hand and leading her to her favourite spot at the bar. She had changed clothes, swapping out her work blouse for a white cropped t-shirt. He recognized it as one of his own that had gotten holes at the hem that she must have cut up. She looked stunning as always. 

“Boring,” she said, plopping down at her seat and dropping her bag on the counter. “Ran into Urania on the way there, though. She says hi.” Orpheus smiled at the name of his aunt who worked at the same university Eurydice attended. 

“No bags on the bar, Girl,” Hermes shouted down to her, and she rolled her eyes. “Sorry, brother!” She shouted back, pushing her bag onto the seat beside her, before turning her attention back to Orpheus. 

“How was your day?” She asked, reaching for his hand, which he gave her. She tangled their fingers together, smiling at the slightly tacky feeling of his fingers, no doubt due to the alcohol.  She ran her thumb over the heel of his hand, and his calloused fingers danced against hers.

“It was good. Did some writing,” He said smiling wide at her, and she grinned back. 

“Finish anything?” She asked. He was cagey with his work that he deemed unfinished, and rarely was his work ever finished. 

“Not yet, but almost. Soon.” She nodded and leaned over, placing a kiss on his lips once again. “Come home with me?” He asked when she pulled back.

“Sure. But you’ve got customers, Poet,” she grinned, leaning back in her chair. He blushed a bit when he realized and he pushed off the bar to start making drinks. 

She hopped off her seat and walked over to Hermes. The man had an air of cool to him, with his shoes shined, and his suit crisp. He looked timeless and placeless in the best possible way. “Thanks for lunch. You really don’t have to do that.” Hermes scoffed and brushed her off.

“I know you’re strapped for cash right now, kid. It’s the least I can do,” Hermes said, placing a hand on her arm. Orpheus was watching the interaction from where he stood pouring wine for a table. Eurydice had been something akin to a lone wolf before he had met her, and now she had more people than she knew what to do with. When Orpheus and Eurydice officially became a couple, she gained Seph, Hermes, and the rest of Orpheus’ family, including his eight aunts. Eurydice loved fiercely and she attracted people who did the same. 

“What are your plans for tonight?” Eurydice asked when Orpheus had finished with customers. He nodded to Hermes, and asked “do you want me to close up tonight?” Hermes shook his head. 

“You kids have fun,” He said to them. “Once we’ve hit last call at 10, you’re free to go. Just don’t forget to restock the bar.”

“I’ve got that,” she said, hopping behind the bar, and grabbing Orpheus’ notepad from his back pocket. She leaned in to kiss his cheek and he whispered a quick ‘thank you’ as she did. Orpheus loved the Dust Bowl, but the downstairs stock room sometimes sent him into a panic. It was too far underground, and the space was too tight for his liking. It meant a lot that, without prompt or asking, Eurydice jumped in to take over. She knew how debilitating his panic attacks could be — she would never forget finding him on the floor, shaking like a leaf, the first time she had seen him during a panic attack. She would do whatever she could to prevent them.

“Stop hopping the bar,” Hermes said to her, shaking his head, but she was already over it, leaning down under the bar, counting bottles and cans and kegs, tallying up what was left. Once she had made a few trips back and forth to stock the bar, and once Orpheus had called for last rounds, the two wished Hermes a good night, as they headed out.

Once outside of the bar, Eurydice pulled him off to the side of the pavement and took his face in her hands. She pulled him down to her level and gently kissed him. He responded with enthusiasm, his hands finding her hips, just like she taught him how she liked it. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him like she was breathing him in, and he gave himself over to her.

It could have been seconds or minutes or months or years, but when Eurydice pulled back, gone was the weight of the work day, and the pressure of her classes. All that was left behind was a look of relaxation, and it was all Orpheus could do to not kiss her right back. He wanted nothing more than to see her relaxed and well rested, to see her happy with no reservations.

He squeezed her hips slightly, and she smiled gently at him. “Hi,” she said, nudging his forehead with hers.

He smiled. “Hi.”

“You gonna take me home?” she asked, and he nodded softly. 

“If you’ll let me,” he said, his voice light. Eurydice looked up into his big, beautiful eyes, and she questioned how she didn’t follow him home the first night she met him. Orpheus, with his big heart, and eyes that hid nothing, had told her he was in love with her after only a few days of knowing her. She tried to keep her distance, but there was something magnetic about him. She couldn’t keep herself away, couldn’t remove herself from his orbit.

She kissed him again, softly this time. Still filled with passion and want, but gentler, and only briefly. “Always,” she said. Orpheus knew that four months ago she never would have dreamed of uttering that word to someone. He knew how tightly guarded she kept herself. And his heart fluttered at the thought that he was allowed to hear her say these things. That he was allowed to be the one who got to take her home, and kiss her, and tell how special she was. It was Orpheus who she had chosen, baggage and all. 

He threaded his fingers through hers, and they started their walk back to Orpheus’ apartment, surrounded by a city still clinging onto summer, and blissfully in love.

[falseroar]

Goretober Day 2: Demonic

((Day 2 of @purple-anxiety-blog ‘s Goretober prompt list! I originally planned to do something with Actor Mark or Darkiplier, but instead have George the Groundskeeper, dealing with things that are very much none of his business.

Warnings: Blood, vomiting, references to off screen deaths))

George had seen many people come into that old house whose grounds he cared for, and many less come out. It had been almost twelve years to the day since he himself had the misfortune to enter those halls, and he prayed it would remain the last time.

After all these years, he knew his warnings would go unheeded. Every new owner smiled and nodded; no doubt sure the groundskeeper who came with the place had spent a little too much time out in the sun. Still, he felt he had to say something, to give them a chance to do the smart thing for once and just turn around and leave.

This last owner had the gall to laugh in his face three months ago, but George had shrugged it off and thought no more about it. His business was the grounds, after all, and he preferred it to stay that way.

But it was hard not to notice the day the car pulled up in front of the house and a man dressed in black from head to toe except for a slim white collar around his neck stepped out. The priest looked up at the house with a grim determination that George had seen time and time again, before he turned around to pull out his large black case and paused at the sight of the caretaker, leaning on his shovel and watching with mild interest.

“Do you work here?”

“No, I just like digging,” George answered, the sarcasm coming faster than he could be bothered to stop it. “Worked here going on twelve, thirteen years I suppose? Hard to keep track these days.”

“What do you know about this house?” the priest asked.

More than you would ever believe, if you’re lucky, George thought, but said, “That it ain’t worth going in there. Did the owner call for you?”

The priest hesitated and then nodded. “I have been called to—”

He was interrupted by the owner himself, throwing up the front door and practically running down the steps to greet the priest. He shook his hand like it was a life preserver, his distracted greeting soon giving way to dire whispers as he led the priest inside.

George sighed and shook his head.

Not his business.

Just as it wasn’t his business hours later when thunder split the air hard on the heels of a bright flash of lightning, despite there not being a single cloud in the sky.

When the doors slammed open, only one man came out. He walked in a daze, his blank, staring eyes barely registering the step his foot caught on as he dragged it and himself in a straight line to the car. There he stopped, and crumpled in on himself.

“Thought you might need this.”

He startled at the sound of George’s voice, but could not bring himself to look away from the house for long, not even as the groundskeeper sat down next to him. Without a word, the priest reached out a shaking hand and took the offered bottle, downing it so fast there was no way he could possibly taste the contents. Good thing George didn’t bother with the good stuff.

Despite the blood soaking his black clothes and staining the once neat little white-collar crimson, George couldn’t see anything wrong with him other than his probably sprained ankle. At least, nothing physically wrong.

When the priest finally came up for air, he tried to pass the bottle back to George, but he waved it off. The priest sat there, hand around the neck of the bottle, eyes still on that house as he said, “They’re dead. All of them. The owner, his wife, the staff…”

“It happens.”

The callousness of George’s voice caused the priest’s eyes to flicker toward him, briefly.  “No, what I saw in there, it doesn’t just ‘happen,’ there was—There is something in that house. Something demonic, something…But you knew, didn’t you?”

“I know dying isn’t the worst thing that can happen in that house.” That would be something walking out that hadn’t walked in before, but George kept that dark thought to himself. Better if the man didn’t know what fate he and the others had been spared.

The priest shuddered. “I saw…someone, just before I walked out. I thought it was the owner, but…it was hard to be sure.”

He took another gulp from the bottle, for all the good it did. “Hard to tell though, without his eyes, and with that—with that smile—”

The priest’s chest heaved and he turned away. George grimaced and took the bottle away, and after a moment or two gave him a pat on the shoulders.

“Yeah, best to get it all out now,” George said, trying to ignore the sounds and the smell. After all, it was nothing he hadn’t done after the last time he left that house.

He didn’t comment on the priest’s words about the owner--the former owner. George knew the signs well enough to know that whatever had happened to him in that house, whatever he had become, would not be leaving those walls. It would burn through him before it came even close. If it came to it, stopping that thing from getting out is the one thing, the only thing that would get him to go back in there now.

“We should…we should call someone,” the priest said weakly, once his stomach was empty. “The police…”

“Won’t find anything,” George answered. “Once that house has its hold on someone, it ain’t letting go. Found that one out the hard way.”

“Won’t find—No one could miss it! The bodies are everywhere, or what’s left of them. There were…some of the bodies, they were missing—”

The priest turned away again, but George doubted there was anything left in his stomach to come up at this point.

“And it’ll all be gone by the time that door opens again. Whole house, spick and span and ready to lure another set of fools in,” George said. When he saw the disbelief in the priest’s eyes, he added, “You can check for yourself, if you want.”

The priest glanced at the house and shuddered, his hand moving to cross himself but losing heart halfway through.

They sat there in silence for a while, just looking at that house. So beautiful and grand on the outside, but inside…

“I should go,” the priest said, eventually. “Whatever you think, someone needs to be told.”

George helped him up to his feet, which the priest needed. Even without his ankle, which he could barely put any weight on, he was still unsteady, still trembling so much the groundskeeper wondered if he would even be able to hold the wheel.

“Sure you don’t need to wait?” George asked. “There’s a shed on the grounds, away from that place. You can rest there, if you need to.”

The priest shook his head. “No, no I’ve been gone for too long as it is. It’s been…days, weeks?  I don’t even know anymore, but someone’s bound to start worrying, and I don’t want…”

Didn’t want anyone he knew getting too close to this place, George knew, but he said, “It’s only been a few hours since you drove up here.”

“What?” The priest paused in the act of opening his car door to stare at George. “No, no, that’s impossible, I…”

He refused to listen as George tried to assure him it had been only hours, and soon drove away. George didn’t know what happened to him after that, only that the next person to arrive at the house was not an officer or an exorcist, but a realtor with a ‘For Sale’ sign. The house didn’t even stay on the market for a week.

It wasn’t any of George’s business.

Just as it wasn’t any of his business when the couple arrived, young child in tow. He tried to warn them, but even the little kid just looked at him like he was crazy. And, as the years passed into decades, even he wondered at how long they lasted. The kid, soon joined by another, seemed happy enough, and when as a young man his parents passed away, no one could say it was more than just an unfortunate accident.

Then one day, as George saw the new young master of the house pacing around on one of the upper balconies, shoulders hunched and eyes dark with some quiet thought, it clicked:

The house had been waiting, planning. Patient.

George’s hands shook momentarily on the handle of his shovel, but he gradually pushed the thought out of mind. After all, it was none of his business.

[smoochcal]

numb without you (part two)

a/n: this is part two (2/???) of numb without you!! please refer to part one to follow the timeline correctly. I really haven’t written something along the lines of this in a very long time, so I am very thankful for every single one of you that have read, liked and reblogged this series already. feel free to message me about any blurbs you want me to write or talk about on here :) with that being said please enjoy part two of numb without you

pairing: readerxluke (and calum lmao)

word count: 2.3k

summary: three months down the road from the night you spent with luke and calum at the club and you have to figure out what to do / movie night with luke

playlist: numb without you by the maine & intoxicated by the cab

rating: PG-13

warnings: swearing, mention of a hookup, mention of blood

----------------------

Y/N’s POV:

You inhale and exhale slowly, trying to focus on everything but what you are currently buying at the drug store around the corner from your place. This is the absolute last place you wanted to be. Nothing against the drug store, you have spent many late nights grabbing last minute snacks and groceries you had either forgotten at the store previously or things here and there that were more convenient to pick up there. You feel your cheeks get warm the minute you put your item on the counter. The elder woman checking you out gives you a look of disappointment that you try not to take to heart considering that she probably had kids at an age much younger than you are right now. You give her the money for the box and head back home to take the test.

As you sit on the floor of your bathroom with the door locked you sigh trying to remember exactly how you got here. It’s been about three months since your drunken hookup with Calum occurred and since then you have missed your period twice. This normally wouldn’t be a big deal, but you are always regular like down to the hour and you thought skipping one was abnormal let alone two. And if we’re being honest, you were scared shitless. You’re hardly 22, you can’t be a mom. You aren’t ready for that responsibility; you killed your last goldfish within the span of a week last year.

But maybe you don’t have to worry about this all just yet. The timer on your phone reads that you have a minute and a half left until you can check the pregnancy test that is resting on your bathroom counter next to the sink. Maybe you’re just under a lot of stress and that is what is causing your periods to be extremely late. I mean you have been under a lot of stress at your job. You have had about fifteen manuscripts sitting on your desk at work since the beginning of this week. You have been busting your ass to get them done in time, working late every day hoping that you wouldn’t have to take any of them home with you for the weekend so your edits can be done and on your boss’s desk bright and early Monday morning. It’s Thursday evening now and the thought of trying to get things done is sitting heavily on your shoulders. Just as your mind starts to drift off to other things the timer on your phone goes off indicating that it is time to check the test.

Positive.

You blink a couple times, quickly trying to keep the tears forming in the brim of your eyes away from your line of sight. You’re pregnant. You can’t even begin to comprehend the little lines staring back at you. There are two other tests in the box. You quickly unwrap them and go to take them both. This can’t be happening. It has to be a false positive. Those happen, right? What are you going to tell your mom? She already thinks it’s a bad idea for you to be living in a small apartment in the middle of LA by yourself. You can’t expect her to be overjoyed that you are going to have a baby out of wedlock. You set the timer on your phone again, which is a seemingly difficult task considering you are now shaking.

You wait the few minutes until both tests are ready. This wait seems longer than the last, fear boiling inside of you causing you to worry ten times more than you previously were. This can’t be happening. It was one night, one mistake.

The timer goes off for a second time and you slowly get up off your bathroom floor and check the other two tests.

Positive.

Positive.

Fuck.

What are you going to do?

-------------------------------------------

{three hours later}

Your phone rings. You hate yourself for picking “Intoxicated” by The Cab as your ringtone as you glance at the Caller ID. Quickly you wipe your tears and clear your throat and answer the phone.

“Hello?” you choke out, your emotions not doing the best job at hiding themselves in your tone.

“Y/N, what’s up? Why do you sound like you’ve been crying?” Luke asks concerningly.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” you respond quickly, hoping he would change the subject before more tears spill out.

“If you say so…anyway I was calling to ask if you wanted to have a movie night tonight, but if it’s a bad time I can let you go…” he replies tentatively.

“No no you can come over it’s fine,” you say hoping this conversation will end sooner than it started.

“Okay, I’ll be there in 10,” he says quickly before hanging up.

You sigh the second he hangs up. You don’t want anything to seem out of the ordinary, so you quickly compose yourself. A few deep breaths seem to do the trick for the time being. You grab the tests from your bathroom counter and throw them away in the trash can, putting some toilet paper in the bin to cover them up. As you finally exit the bathroom you take another deep breath, holding back the tears that are threatening to spill onto your cheeks purely because of the stress you are now under.

You tidy up your place as fast as you can, knowing Luke could knock on your door at any minute. You don’t worry about what movie you will watch or how he is going to try to pry this secret out of you, you only focus on the then and now in order to keep your composure. Just as you fold the last blanket and set it on top of the couch, you hear a knock on your front door. You know it is Luke by the way he knocks, softly 3 times, and you open the door without even looking at who is behind it. Luke smiles as soon as he lays his soft blue eyes on you. He follows you to the kitchen where you went to find some snacks to make when he picks you up and spins you around throwing you over his shoulder.

“Luke!” you exclaim, laughing ever so slightly, “put me downnnnn.”

“Fine, but only because you asked OH so nicely,” Luke responds sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he puts you down, plopping on the nearest chair as he watches you move about the kitchen.

You look through your cupboards and refrigerator and finally decide on making some nachos for the two of you to share. You grab the ingredients and all the things you know he likes on his nachos; I mean the two of you are best friends after all, and you throw your masterpiece into the microwave to heat up. Luke seems to have a careful eye on you particularly tonight and you can’t tell if it is due to the conversation the two of you had on the phone earlier or if it was because of something else. Maybe he has always looked at you this way, but now you are extra paranoid because of the new information you found out in the bathroom a few hours prior to his arrival.

When the nachos are ready you grab the plate and a couple of napkins and sit on the couch as Luke paws through your extensive movie collection. You swear he is taking his sweet time picking a movie when he finally decides on one of your favorite comedic dramas, Life as We Know It. He puts the DVD into the DVD player, grabs the remotes and finds a blanket before sitting next to you. He covers both of your legs with the blanket and presses play while grabbing a nacho from the plate in your hands. And if everything hadn’t crashed and burned earlier today, all would seem right in the world.

About an hour into the movie Luke asks you to pause it because he has to use the bathroom, you think nothing of it knowing he has a tiny bladder and a short attention span and normally can’t sit through a two hour movie without asking you to stop it at least one. You finish the last of the nachos and get up to put the dish in the sink and grab a water for you and your apparently already overhydrated friend. You and Luke both get back to the couch at the same time and you get settled back where you were. Just as you are about to press play on the remote, Luke looks at you quizzically, causing you to wonder what is on his mind.

“Well are you going to say something or are you just going to give me that dumbass look you wear so well?” you ask as he continues to stare at you.

Luke sighs before speaking, “I mean… do you want to tell me why I found this empty box of pregnancy tests on the floor next to the toilet?”

You look at him like a deer caught in headlights. How could you be so stupid as to leaving the box in the bathroom? What are you going to tell him, the truth? That you had sex with his best friend over three months ago and now you’re 99% positive that you are pregnant with said friend’s child? This is too much for just another movie night.

You begin to form the words you want to say when Luke goes on, “Not to mention the three positive pregnancy tests in your trash poorly hidden under some wadded-up toilet paper. I knew you were hiding something but this? This is a lot, Y/N. When did this happen? Why did this happen? Who’s the father? Does he know yet? Does your mom know yet? What are you going to do?”

“Well,” you start taking a deep breath knowing you don’t have a lot of the answers he’s looking for, “if you’re asking what’s up, apparently I’m pregnant which I only found out a few hours ago. I didn’t necessarily want to hide it from you, but I barely have an explanation for all of this myself let alone an explanation for someone else. I’m assuming this happened a few months ago. Fun fact I haven’t been bleeding like I’m supposed to, and I know you hate when I mention all that girlie stuff but it’s true. I was drunk when this hookup happened and you’re going to hate me even more when I tell you all the details. The father does not know yet and neither does my mother. Honestly you’re the only one besides myself that knows right now and I’m scared out of my fucking mind.”

Luke opens his mouth lie he is about to say something then closes it as he continues to think. You take this opportunity to just bite the bullet and tell him what really happened.

“Remember that night where we all went out to that club you like? Me, you, the guys, their girlfriends and the few strays they must have conjured up along the way? I really didn’t want to go out that night, but I owed you one, so I went. The club was not my scene at all. Too loud, too many people, not enough air circulating around the dancefloor. I stepped out to catch my breath and found Calum smoking outside. We got to talking, and you know how much he gets under my skin sometimes. This time was different though, it was more playful, which made it easier to have a real conversation with him. We talked and one thing led to another and I woke up the next morning with only his ratty drop-dead t-shirt on while sleeping in a unfamiliar yet familiar enough bed. And all I can say now is that I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry, Luke. I know he is one of your best friends and I’m one of your best friends. I wasn’t thinking and I lied to you saying I took an uber home and got there not even twenty minutes after stepping out of the club. God, I’m so sorry.” You burst into tears towards the last sentence you spoke, knowing this is the worst you have ever hurt him.

“How could you?” He softly asked as he slowly got up from the couch grabbing his wallet, phone and keys heading out of your apartment. You could tell how broken he was, finally comprehending the madness.

The minute he walked out of your apartment it was like a bomb just exploded in your own living room. The blanket only covering half of your body, the remotes sprawled out on the cushion where he was sitting just a moment ago. Your life is slowly falling apart right before your own two eyes and there is nothing you can do about it except cry. The tears flow and flow, creating a damp spot on the blanket below you. Your sobs echoing throughout the otherwise silent apartment. You want to call Luke; you want to call your best friend and ask him to come back just to hold you and tell you everything is okay. But you shouldn’t and you won’t. You have hurt him enough for today. Instead you allow the sobs to take over your body, feeling completely and utterly lost.

And just when you think you could not cry another tear, Intoxicated plays quietly from your phone perched on the other end of the couch. You grab it quickly praying that it was Luke calling to say he is outside your door waiting to come back in and be there for you. You check the caller ID and see that it is not who you expected it to be, not in the slightest. Your phone read one name that hurt so much you could hardly stand it.

Calum.

[advernia]

fic: time has a place (in our little space)

— the seven of hearts and alice the second: a glimpse of the ticking hours between doctor and a young woman, with bottles of alcohol lost along the way.

1: spoiler warning for those who haven’t gone through kyle's route! said spoilers are just vague references to some of the route's events, but still tread lightly folks (°∀°)b

X I I

The clock strikes midnight when the Seven of Hearts stretches his arms over his head and decides that it's time to bust out a drink from his stash - the soft sigh and narrowed gaze coming from Alice the Second could've spelled either disapproval or disappointment (or even both simultaneously), but she walks over to the sofa where he sat anyway with two small glass cups in her hands.

                                            I

The drink he pulls out of his stash is a thin bottle of gin, and this is what she says to him as the clock struck one -

You know, I still think it isn't professional to keep a stash here in the infirmary.

He snorts at that, looking at her rather pointedly -

Say that again when you can admit that you're not hiding anything in the white cabinet just behind us - third drawer, rightmost side, innermost portion.

Her shoulders jump and her eyes widen at his words, and he chuckles at her reaction. 

    I I

She attempts to explain herself first, stating that it was the Jack of Hearts who gave it to her earlier but she wasn't able to find a brief moment or a place to set it aside properly since there were already patients coming in, but the Seven of Hearts cuts in and tells her that she shouldn't even bother hiding unnecessary stuff in the drawers and that she should just bring it out; so by the time the clock had struck two and he had poured some gin in their cups, she brings out a plate of fish chips from the aforementioned drawer with a slight blush on her cheeks.

        I I I

The flush in his face is threatening to color the entirety of his cheeks with a hue that rivals that of his hair by the time the clock strikes three, and that's her signal to take his glass away from him - he pouts and grabs at her like a child would, and the words that escape his lips make some sort of pity blossom in a part of her heart:

Why would you take my only source of happiness away from me? he moaned, golden eyes glimmering bright.

She doesn't buy it anyway, and proceeds to take the bottle of gin away from the table - and away from his twitching fingers. 

            I V

She's done cleaning up after their drinking session when the clock strikes four and before she's to make her way back to her room, she decides to see if she can wake him: he's not sprawled out on the couch but sitting on it, what a miracle, so she has easy access to both his shoulders to shake him awake - hopefully, the task wouldn't prove as difficult as it seemed.

                V

Her voice rings in his head, and what also registers in his hazy consciousness is the feeling of his body being shrouded in something and the words goodnight: the words are a fleeting whisper, a breeze to his ears, and something just tells him to hold on, hold on before it disappears -

And that he does: he extends an arm and just reaches out, hand wide open, fingers stretched as far as they can go to the direction of that voice and they prove successful in their task - he takes hold of something warm and familiar against his skin, and he gathers all the strength he has left to pull it close as the clock struck five.

                    V I

(She finally falls asleep just minutes after the clock strikes six, with her hand still wrapped in his and her head resting snugly on his shoulder - somehow, the warmth of his body beside hers and the mingling scents of antiseptic and lime made the issue of propriety bubble away from her mind, so she resigned herself to stop struggling away from his grip because in the first place, she already found a sense of comfort in his company days ago - 

 - and she sincerely hoped that the Seven of Hearts, in some way or another, felt the same about her presence, too.)

                        V I I

When he wakes up to the clock striking seven, he realizes that he has slept on the couch sitting upright; or as upright as he could - his body aches from sleeping in such a position, but when he sees that his assistant had done the same beside him, with her head resting on his numb shoulder; he squeezes her hand and relishes in the thought that he's not the only one going to be complaining about muscle pain later.

                            V I I I

The Ace of Hearts doesn't exactly get why Alice the Second occasionally winced as she moved her head (even in the smallest of angles), but he does (he really, really does) know the reason why the Seven of Hearts kept complaining about muscle pains for the umpteenth time (again) - and so after breakfast, when the trio have stepped out of the dining area as the clock struck eight; the Ace asks Alice -

Did you have a hard time sleeping last night?

She visibly flinches and beside her, the Seven of Hearts' lips curl upwards -

Awww, would you look at that, he says with a lilt in his voice, she's got muscle pains!

I certainly do not!

                                I X

It's the Jack of Hearts' troop up for morning training again, so the Seven of Hearts and Alice the Second return to the infirmary as soon as the clock struck nine: before anyone would rush in explaining how they got their injury or mourning about something broken or just lamenting about their sorry state in general, the latter takes a deep breath before she turned around to face the former -

Say, Kyle? she says, and he looks up from his book casually.

Yeah?

Thank you, she breathes, for lending me your shoulder.

He blinks once, twice; before a lazy grin slips onto his lips, and into his features.

                                    X

The clock had already struck ten but the line of patients, as he jokingly mumbled to himself, was still as long as a lock of her hair - she shakes her head and hits him playfully on the shoulder before asking him what she could do now to help their current patient, a middle-aged soldier who had a mass of purple bruising on his upper forearm. The Seven of Hearts nods at her and says -

Get me an ice pack. After that, grab five more thick towels, a roll of stockinette, a pair of gloves, then go to that kettle over there; it still has some water - check its temperature: if it's lukewarm, boil it for a bit then pour some in a basin; don't fill it up to the brim and set it beside me to cool down. If the water's still hot, you can just pour some in the basin and set it aside immediately. Oh right, the basins are...

... in the left-hand shelf, bottom compartment, she finished with a vigorous nod. So: ice pack, five thick towels, a stockinette roll, gloves, basin of water - check temperature; if lukewarm I should boil then pour, if hot I'll just pour - is that right?

With nothing in her hands but with a gaze that demanded affirmation, she waited with bated breath - and all he could do was grin.

Not bad, he mumbles - and she smiles at him before taking off. 

                                        X I

The middle-aged soldier is permitted to go a little later after the clock had struck eleven, with a secured sling supporting the cast in his arm: before he leaves, he stands tall and proclaims his utmost gratitude to the Seven of Hearts and Alice the Second in a booming voice - the former just waves casually and tells the soldier to take it easy, while the latter states that she just offered assistance. The soldier shakes his head and says to her, however -

Assistant you may be, Alice, but you should take pride in your work, he declares. I may be just one of the many soldiers under the Jack of Hearts, but under his wing, I pride myself in being able to help in his and the Red Army's efforts in making Cradle a better place. It may seem arrogant of me - but I believe that even minor efforts count in a bigger picture... just like your assistance can help save lives.

The soldier salutes with a small smile on his face, then turns around to leave.

                                            X I I

The infirmary usually closes for lunch break when the clock strikes twelve, but the Red Army's doctor and assistant finish treating their last patient a couple of minutes past that time: when the pair is left alone in silence, the Seven of Hearts swivels his chair to face Alice the Second, who blinks at the sudden action and squeaks -

What is it?

Crouch down a bit, will you?

Her lips curve downwards but she complies anyway: while crouching she's within better reach without much effort, so he puts his hand on top of her head and moves his hand back and forth in a languid motion, the strands of her blonde hair soft against his fingers.

The sensation is familiar - somewhat enjoyable, somewhat calming yet very vexing all the same, so her mouth opens to say something about manners; because a man shouldn't just ruffle a lady's hair like he would to a dog, but their eyes meet: their faces are not that far apart from each other so she can see that the smile on his lips reaches his eyes, and his direct gaze set on her holds so much warmth.

A sudden heat flows through her face like a flood so she looks down at her hands that now grip at her skirt, lips still quivering -

- but not a single word is voiced.

                                                I

The lunch they have is fulfilling to their stomachs but brief to their bodies, and the Seven of Hearts bemoans this to Alice the Second as they walk back to the infirmary minutes before the clock struck one: he explains that while the food is good (but the drinks are better), there's not enough time to properly digest and appreciate what they've eaten if their break only spans for an hour then it's back to work they go - listening to him ramble about his explanation as she washed some towels, she lets out a laugh but says nothing in reply.

Oh, but I guess lunch tastes better than usual nowadays.

How so?

You're right there, eating happily beside me, he grins. I've always thought that dining hall's too wide for just one person.

    I I

The Jack of Hearts visits the infirmary exactly as the clock strikes two, and when he sees the doctor by his desk but no assistant in sight, he casually says:

Ah, has she finally managed to escape your clutches?

The Seven of Hearts snorts and shakes his head - 

Last time I checked, you were the one with the name 'Gentle Demon'. Why are you painting me in your image?

Come now - it was just a jest. That aside... where has Alice gone to?

The doctor gestures to the closed curtains of the infirmary's ward, so the Jack of Hearts walks over to the said area to part the curtains slightly: there he sees the woman he was looking for sitting on a chair set by an open window, head and arm resting on the windowsill with a book on her lap; eyes closed and breathing in a steady rhythm.

Ah. What a shame for her to be asleep.

She fell asleep just minutes before you came in.

Oh? And you didn't bother to at least ward her from the cold?

Huh? But doesn't she look comfortable enough?

The Jack of Hearts let out a laugh as he took off the sheets from the nearest cot to carefully settle over Alice's shoulders.

Forget I asked. I was expecting too much of you, it seems.

        I I I

The two ranking officers share a conversation about the Red Army's current situation and also about a certain someone's training regimen which leaves the Jack of Hearts utterly perplexed on who could be the subject of the Seven of Hearts' ire (who would ever dare get on the good doctor's nerves, he says, while said doctor rolls his eyes), and it lasts until the Jack of Hearts decides that he has overstayed his welcome - he leaves a bag containing two jelly doughnuts right in the center of the Seven of Hearts' desk with a smile, leaving the infirmary just as the clock struck three. 

The Seven of Hearts scowls at the gift, taking the bag and walking over to where Alice the Second still lay fast asleep - he sets the bag on the windowsill then proceeds to close the windows as quietly as possible, and when he's done he spares a glance at his assistant: eyes land on her mussed hair first, covering a good portion of her face enough to make him wonder if she could still breathe.

So carefully he extends his hand toward her, fingers moving as gently as they could to brush the strands of her hair away from her face. He uncovers her eyes first, and the slightly darkened color of the skin under her eyes catches his attention: he recalls that they did sort of sleep late last night, so maybe he was at fault for that -

- but still, she stayed by his side all the while.

A ghost of a smile begins to grace his lips, and he decides to watch over her a little longer.

            I V

Alice the Second wakes up to see that the sky outside was no longer in vivid shades of blue but now stained in orange, red, and yellow hues; and that's enough to make her rise quickly from her seat, throw the book that she was reading onto the nearest cot, then pull aside the white curtains separating the ward from the infirmary in a flurry, just in time to see the Seven of Hearts about to take a swig from his mug, glasses perched upon his nose and expression dumbfounded, until -

- he just burst out in peals of laughter, drops of water spilling out from his cup and onto his clothes -

Wha- what's so funny!

Y-your hair, he manages to wheeze out, it - wow, just look at it go - looks like birds just nested in there-

H-hey! You don't have to laugh that hard!

And so doctor and assistant continued their banter - and by the time the clock had struck four, the Red Army's infirmary was painted completely in the warm sunset hues and mingling laughter.

                V

With night approaching and little to no soldiers dropping by the infirmary, the Seven of Hearts calls it a day when the clock strikes five - with a nod, Alice the Second stands up and begins to gather any tools left behind on the trolleys and desks then placing them all together in one basin set by the sink. She's about to grab the kettle when she sees him take out his medical bag, so she says:

Don't forget that Zero asked for a roll of bandages!

Got it. Thanks for the reminder.

Jonah mentioned that if we had some salve to spare, he'd like a bottle for himself, too.

Ah, that. Most likely he isn't going to use it for himself, but oh well.

And there's an ice pack ready in the ice box, if you need it.

Oh? Someone's well prepared.

That's because you - and other people - need it.

He chuckles as he picks up the aforementioned items, storing the extra bandage roll and antiseptic in a separate pocket then wrapping the ice pack in two towels before setting it carefully inside his bag. After making sure that everything was in place he zippers the bag shut and slings it over his shoulder, walking towards the door and about to leave but not before he -

I'll be back, he calls out before closing the door behind him.

I'll be waiting, she replies, seeing him off with a smile.

                    V I 

These are the things that Alice the Second does while the Seven of Hearts is away from the infirmary:

She washes any and every medical implement used within the day - first, she lets everything she gathered settle in a basin of hot water for a minute to sterilize them; then she brushes each tool carefully with soap. After rinsing, she wipes everything with a towel then puts each tool away in certain cabinets. 

While she's at it, she also takes down the towels and gloves hanging on the standing rack not far from the sink; ensures that they are dry, folds them, and also puts them away in their respective drawers.

She tidies up the rest of the infirmary, starting from the medicine cabinets to the doctor's desk to the rest of the cabinets then finally, the ward. Ointments and assorted salves are placed back in the shelves, books and papers are neatly set aside, and any used beds are remade.

She grabs a broom and sweeps the infirmary clean; going around once, then twice until she's satisfied. She even hums a tune while she's at it, her skirts swirling around her legs as she swept every nook and cranny with practiced ease.

The thing she does not do, however, is to escape - she is on her lonesome and every avenue was open to her, whether it be the door or the windows. Perhaps a clear layout of the Red Army's headquarters has imprinted itself well in her mind considering the length of her stay, but she makes no indication of leaving and instead, she waits. She waits, even if the clock had struck six and the minutes continued to pass by.

Just like she had told the Seven of Hearts.

With nothing else to see, the King of Hearts waves his hand in the darkness of his room and the image of the infirmary becomes wisps of smoke, just as his eyes reverted back to their blue hue.

                        V I I

The Seven of Hearts and Alice the Second's company for dinner tonight happens to be the Queen of Hearts, who permitted them to eat with him given that they would not be rambunctious to the point that they would spoil his dessert. The latter takes note of that and sits two chairs away from the Queen while the former just sprawls himself on the seat next to her, not paying any heed to the warning and instead mourns out for ale. He also effectively ignores the looks of distaste coming from both the Queen and Alice upon being served with said drink, draining his glass in a couple of gulps.

With a satisfied grin, he turns to Alice and says with a voice thick with ale and suggestion -

Come by my room later, yeah? We have some unfinished business tonight.

Silence.

The clock struck seven.

The unfinished business that the Seven of Hearts was referring to was making a comfortable bed for his piglet Goo, which they talked about on their way to the dining hall: he knew that and Alice the Second somehow knew that he was referring to that, but -

- the Queen of Hearts, on the other hand -

Scandalous, he hissed with narrowed eyes, you are truly a man without a single shred of propriety...

W-wait! It's not what you think, I swear!

You would defend his loose tongue!?

Huh? Does that mean we ain't going to do it tonight -

Stop talking for a second!

                            V I I I 

... Got you!

Ah!

Short of breath but with some strength left in his arms, the Seven of Hearts manages to take hold of Alice the Second's wrist, using his grip to pull the rest of her body towards him with mixed results: she trips on her own feet so her head buries itself on his shoulder, and he has to wrap his other arm around her waist to keep her steady. The sheer proximity of their bodies makes her go as stiff as a board, but his voice is unfazed as he says:

I'm sorry about earlier, really.

They're outside, in the Red Army's garden - the dining hall misunderstanding had her bolting away out of embarrassment and strangely enough, he adamantly followed her with the sincere intent of asking her what was wrong: she began running and he did the same, she told him not follow and he asked why; until their chase somehow led them outside then in their current position.

A period of silence envelops them, and when the clock strikes eight, she finally mumbles into his shoulder -

... I'm not really mad.

Wha - really? Then why won't you show your face?

You said something incredibly embarrassing, that's why! I'm completely aware that you can be so tactless at times and I convinced myself to get used to you and your awkward way of phrasing things, but it's just unbelievable that you had to say something like that in front of Jonah, of all people! I'm glad he understood that we were planning nothing improper, but imagine if someone else heard you -

... Wow, you don't hold anything back, do you?

                                I X

Alice the Second, albeit grudgingly, finds it in her heart to forgive the Seven of Hearts once she had calmed herself - so when all is said and done, they walk back inside the Red Army headquarters with his initial grip on her wrist now a hold on her hand: it stays that way as they continue their walk through the corridors and up the stairs, and until she realizes that they were heading for her room.

It's only when they stand right in front of her room's door that he lets go of her, her hand; and that makes her frown -

Why are we here? she asks him, and he shrugs.

I thought you were worn out from all that running.

She blinks for a moment before laughing - if she recalled correctly, he was the one out of breath from chasing her, but she decides to keep that tidbit to herself.

I'm fine, really. We still have some time, so how about we just take Goo's measurements for today?

The clock in the hall chimes nine - smirking, he crosses his arms over his chest and mock sighs:

And to think that just an hour ago, you were rambling about how you didn't want to be seen with me...

H-hey! Don't you use my words against me!

                                    X

When they enter his room and light up a magic crystal, they find his pet piglet smack in the middle of the bed, snoring away like its life depended on it: while the Seven of Hearts had sudden images of pork roast flashing through his mind, Alice the Second had walked over to the bed; cooing over the pig as she carried it up and cradled it gently in her arms.

The clock strikes ten, but he doesn't move from where he stands and instead watches the spectacle in silence: he notes how much a smile can do to her features; how it would make the blue of her eyes go warm and bright, how it would make her appear softer and noticeably more feminine, how it perfectly represented the very level of happiness she was feeling -

Yeah, you really do look better like that, he says all of a sudden.

What do you mean? she asks as she looked up at him.

The corners of his lips lift themselves up lazily as he says -

A smile suits you, that's what I'm saying.

She flusters, soft pinks dusting cheeks her quickly -

Didn't we just have a talk on how to be careful when you phrase things!?

Oh right, we did, didn't we? Sorry.

At least be a little more sincere about it!

                                        X I

The piglet had been measured and they've already gone over the remaining details about the pig's bed, but Alice the Second still finds herself seated in the sofa of the Seven of Hearts' room, a book about herbs in her hand. He mentioned that they would be picking herbs again tomorrow but they'd be getting them from the Central Quarter, so he encouraged her to read up a little to familiarize herself with other herbs not growing in the Red Army's gardens or in Cradle itself - granted, there were some herbs listed in the book that she had never seen in London as well, so they were of interest, but...

... She also found herself throwing occasional glances at he who was hunched at his desk again, a quill in his hand and a thick tome in the other. The clock had already struck eleven and yet he continued on with his studies without stopping, while she, on the other hand; felt that a moment of respite for her eyes was sorely needed. Setting the book aside for a moment, she stretches her arms over her head and begins to go over the day's events -

- only to end up blushing out of sheer embarrassment: she covers her face in her hands, shaking her head while mumbling to herself repeatedly like a madman for what seemed like minutes; but still...

... a smile, for whatever reason, still dances its way onto her lips.

                                            X I I

The clock strikes midnight when Seven of Hearts carries the sleeping Alice the Second in his arms, laying her down as gently as possible in his bed in order not to rouse her. As he pulls the sheets over her body, he hears her mumble something about doughnuts - he recalls the Jack of Hearts' gift earlier that afternoon, and he shakes his head.

Reaching under the sofa, he pulls out a bottle of white wine - the bottle is quickly opened as it is quickly consumed and discarded, and seconds later he settles himself under the sheets and beside her in the bed. He breathes in, and the various scents crowding in his room come flooding in: the peppermint plant on his bedside table, soap from the sheets, whiffs of herbs escaping from the cabinet, drifting touches of almond from the books in his desk, a little of that pork-like smell of Goo, and -

- a waft of something sweet but not cloying, of something unusual yet also comforting... just inches away.

Good job today, he whispers before closing his eyes.

                                                1: from ikerev's prologue alone, i already felt that i would like kyle as a character - reading his route now, i'm so happy my expectations were correct + goddamn son that mc??? her mindset / attitude + lines of thinking + internal conflicts & realizations (that i also wanted to see in other routes)??? holy shit fam, i like her characterization on kyle's route, bless.  2: following that this is just a self-indulgent fic so it's sort of a hot mess™ - i don't usually start writing a piece until i'm done reading a route/ending, but i'm just really happy with what i've read of the route + their dynamic, i dig... mc first and foremost developing genuine respect for kyle + admiring his determination to his profession??? slay me (*≧▽≦) 3: on pt X (morning), i just like the idea that eventually mc would get so used to kyle barking orders at her to the point that she's trained herself to get used to his dictation, haha. kyle secretly feels proud of her when he realizes that she no longer needs to make use of the pen & paper to list down his orders lol. 4: on that note too, i'd like to believe that mc was able to adapt quickly to the pressure of the infirmary environment was bc she was employed in london's best confectionery: lotsa customers + demanding kids + orders coming left & right, so at least she knows how to work her way around the pressure - her problem, of course, is how to get around a medical setting. 5: on pt V (evening), i also like the idea of kyle checking up on the chosen thirteen, maybe at least four to three times a week, maybe? they usually don't need to go to the infirmary anyway, but kyle makes it a point to do maintenance on them, especially on lancelot & jonah - both can be incredibly stubborn and sometimes unreasonable to deal with when it comes to minor injuries bc they just shrug it off, lol. edgar and zero are careful, and honestly they probably do their own first aid. 6: tumblr can't get the spacings like a03 does, but the spaces were set accordingly to the hours, lol. the top-light and bottom-heavy content distribution wasn't intentional, tho.

[missytearex]

Hi! So I’m combining my October and November favourites here, as I never made a post for last month! Oops. Anyway, I’ve started making fic boards! I’ll link to those throughout. Here you go!

Larry

Boiling Blood Will Circulate by whoknows | @crazyupsetter (42k)

The wait isn’t long before something starts rustling in the bushes. Harry takes aim, squeezes the trigger, body moving unconsciously. They’re motions he’s done a thousand times before, and his body knows how to do it without the input of his brain now. It’s what makes him such a good shot.

He misses. The shot misses.

Something howls in the woods, a pretty clear indication that Harry hit it, but there’s no telltale sounds of a big body dropping, no animal charging out at him to take him out before he can finish the job.

Something does turn and run, though. “Fuck,” Harry spits out, scrambling to his feet and slinging the rifle back over his shoulder, giving chase. He’s not going to lose this hunt.

The trail of blood goes on longer than Harry thought it would. He doesn’t know how long he runs for, but his muscles are burning, chest heaving with exertion, until the trail just - goes dead. No more blood, just like that.

“Fuck,” Harry says.

deleted your number (so i can't call you) by tofiveohfive | @tofiveohfive (9k)

Harry wakes up to a voicemail.

It’s Saturday morning and it’s raining, a barely there drizzle. He sees the notification as soon as he picks up his phone from the bedside table, bleary eyes making it hard to distinguish the words. He’s got a few instagram mentions, a couple unread texts, but what really stands out is the “Missed Call and Voicemail”.

From Louis.

Or the ten hours before Harry comes home to Louis, and the five hours after he does.

Lilo

don't you hear me howling by theamazingpeterparker (13k) - [my board]

Liam turns and looks at him for a while. A scruffy, sleep-warm Louis Tomlinson curled up in a Star Wars blanket, asking what’s for breakfast after a night of running around the upstate forests. Werewolf or not, Liam had almost forgotten what a goddamn menace Louis Tomlinson was.

Louis has seen An American Werewolf in London enough times to know that city living isn't an ideal lifestyle for a new werewolf. He moves back home to find that Liam never left.

i'm never gonna fall (but i'm never hard to catch) by carissima (5k) - [my board]

TFLN: we were supposed to fuck one time, but ended up fucking for 2 years

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” he mutters, hooking his fingers into the waistband of Liam’s boxers and shoving them down past his knees. He’s inordinately pleased to find Liam’s dick is just as nice as he remembers. He curls his hand around him and hums happily as Liam fattens in his grip. “You know that, right? Who cooks breakfast for their one night stand? And then washes up afterwards? I feel like I should send your mum a thank you note or something for raising such a polite young man.”

“God please don’t,” Liam says fervently.

Lirry

the stars look very different today by colourexplosion | @jessimond (5k)

Harry's an alien who blogs about aliens. Liam's a human. Or is he?

an AU

Narry

just a little rush, babe by theamazingpeterparker (10k) - [my board]

“You know everything they say about Dracula? All that stuff I wrote in my paper?” Niall asks as he rips one of the glazed donuts in half. Harry hums. “It’s all bullshit. Real vampires do tomato juice cleanses and do yoga. Fuck.”

Harry's a vampire who's awful at parallel parking, being scary, and being alone. He meets Niall walking home alone one night.

Niam

Building Castles in the Air by el_em_en_oh_pee | @dulosis (10k) - [my board]

Liam is overwhelmed by his bootcamp roommate, who is loud and friendly and so totally up-front about what he wants out of this competition.

"I plan on winning," Niall says, twenty seconds after introducing himself, slinging his duffel bag down on his bed. "Touring. Playing my guitar, you know. Selling albums. Maybe working with Justin Bieber, if I'm lucky."

Lately I've Been Taken In by el_em_en_oh_pee | @dulosis (53k) - [my board]

Niall is the youngest in family of vampire hunters that extends back, generation after generation, for the thousands of years since St. Patrick brought vampires to Ireland to get rid of all the snakes. He's been well-trained in the fine art of slaying practically his whole life, racking up over eighty kills by the time he leaves the motherland to join a boyband.

His new bandmate, Liam, swears up and down that he’s not a vampire. But Niall’s senses never lie.

Nouis

Ask If You Know The Answer by disarm_d | @onedisarmed (4k)

It takes them longer than it should to realize that something is up. Telepathy.

Zarry

baby I'll never leave if you keep holding me this way by estrella30 (10k)

“Does he have your mark?” his mum asks. Zayn shakes his head. He’d looked at Harry’s wrist explicitly for the edgings of Zayn’s family crest but couldn’t find anything. Not that that means Harry’s not the one; it might need a touch or connection to come to the surface. Zayn’s not sure he wants to find out though. He doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to know for certain.

“Ah, well. It could be coming,” she adds, and Zayn shrugs. She’s silent for another moment, before quietly adding, “You could pick him, you know.” She sounds thoughtful, distant even. Zayn wonders what she’s thinking about, what she’s remembering. “If you want to that is. I know you’ve not been looking for your mate Zayn, but maybe this was what you needed. Maybe you needed your mate to find you.”

or - Zayn is an immortal modern times non evil sexual incubus who is reluctant to find his mate. And then he meets Harry.

Ziall

our names are written with starlight by softzindagi | @softzindagi (7k) - my board

After four years of failed attempts, Niall is still hopelessly single with no match to his soulmark in sight. But just because he can’t find his soulmate, doesn’t mean he can’t find love.

Got fire for a heart, i'm not scared of the dark by geewhizmo | @sleepymouses​ (45k)

“I dunno,” Zayn mutters. “I just think you’re much more in the business of flying than falling, y’know?”

That’s not entirely true, Niall thinks. I’m falling for you, aren’t I?

*

Niall leaves home for the first time and moves to a big city. There, he meets a group of people who will shape the course of the rest of his life. He tries (and fails) not to fall in love with one of them.

Also, they all have superpowers.

Ziam

Heart of Stone, Life of Fire by SoftlyandSwiftly (96k) - [my board]

A war with the city of Banshia and its conquering King threatens all of the Cities on the continent of Kiza. Young Zayn Malik finds himself hopelessly entangled in the web of the war, his future rewritten in the span of a morning as allies and enemies shift. Traded for the promise of an ally, Zayn finds himself among the warrior tribes of the Nakizi people, where he must carve out his own place and take his fate into his own hands.

For All the Stars We Cannot See by iambluehead | @iambluehead​ (30k)

Zayn grins sheepishly, the light hitting his face and making him squint, his fingers curling around the strap of his bag and his other hand rubbing at the back of his neck, a habit of Liam’s own that he recognizes on the other boy. “Yeah,” he finally says. “Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow?” “Yeah,” Liam says, letting out the breath that he’d been holding in his lungs until it burned. “Yeah, see you then.” The door slams shut, and Liam watches him walk up to his front door, wondering what would have happened if in that moment, he would have just leaned forward and— “The boy’s in bloody love with you,” Louis says bluntly, pulling away from the house and slamming around a corner at the speed of light. “You should get over your fear of everything and just kiss him already.”

(This is the high school AU where Liam plays football and is afraid of failure until someone puts Zayn in his life and he learns to be brave. There’s music Liam’s never heard of, eventful rides home from school, and drunken toasts to the stars they can’t see from Wolverhampton.)

Zouis

all the stars were crashing by sarcangel | @sarcathlon (25k)

“We should practice,” Louis says. He’s got a faraway look in his eye that doesn’t bode well for anyone, based on Zayn’s newly-formed knowledge of Louis. “Find a place, set up a schedule, all that.”

“What?” Zayn says, not sure where the conversation is exactly headed anymore.

“You know, in a movie - like, this would be our montage sequence,” Louis says, hands everywhere, gesturing wildly. “There’d be some song playing in the background while we spar and gain strength and -”

(and lick sweat off of each other’s necks, Zayn thinks, and then you knock me to the floor and lay on me and)

“Yeah, that’d be sick,” Zayn says, instead, not knowing if he’s more surprised that anything coherent comes out of his mouth or that he’s actually agreed to Louis’ awful plan.

In A Small Town I Saw You by zouee | @louiswmalik​ (153k)

Zayn nods a few times, judging whether or not he should just fucking spit it out. He should rip off the band-aid, jump into the cold water, throw this earth-sized weight off his shoulders and look Louis in the eye. “You should’ve remembered me.” He feels like saying. “I’m the reason you couldn’t.”

~

Zayn Malik spends the past eighteen months alone - using whoever and whatever he can to take his mind off of the one person he regrets leaving - and it’s not until he finds himself residing in a small town called Hillside when he finally remembers what peace feels like. Louis Tomlinson spends the past eighteen months surrounded by people - he’s coddled, fawned over, and most sickeningly; sympathised with - until he finally breaks away from the suffocation and finds himself face to face with someone who instantly hates him. Cue: endless angst, devastation, pathetic pining and Disney references mixed together in a pot full of misunderstandings and one-sided memories. The end result is ghastly. Proceed with caution.

Gryles

hold this thread by disgruntledkittenface | @disgruntledkittenface​ (26k)

The air is heavy between them as they both watch Nick’s clumsy fingers mend the fabric. It must only take a minute, but it feels like ages. Beads of sweat form on Nick’s forehead and he can’t tell if it’s from the panic of the moment or the way the man seems to be waiting for something. He’s done a bad job of it, but finally the hem is stitched up. Nick loops the end of the thread and can’t stop himself from lightly poking the man’s skin again, next to the dark ink smudged on his hip that Nick is currently dying to ogle in full, just to… see.

The man shudders this time and luckily Nick is still looking down or he would have missed the man’s cock very clearly twitch in his bloody loose trousers.

Fucking hell.

On his way to visit Henry getting ready for his London Fashion Week show, Nick bumps into a (stupidly pretty) model and pulls a loose thread on the sample he’s wearing. Horrified, Nick tries to mend the simple mistake, but it may just unravel into the best thing that ever could have happened to him.

Tomlinshaw

Lost and Found by shiftylinguini | @shiftylinguini​, Writcraft | @writsgrimmyblog​ (31k)

In a year when things are coming to an end for Nick, an unexpected chapter begins at the start of a long, hot summer.

An accidental romance in Malta. Featuring Annie on the decks, Nick and Louis below deck, a handful of bad nautical puns and weather that's far too hot for trackies.

OT5

The Youth Branch of Magical and Fairy Tale Creatures and Beings Anonymous (Volume One) by sunsetmog | @magicalrocketships​ (5k) - [my board]

Sometimes trying to pass for human is hard. Monthly meetings of the Youth Branch of Magical and Fairy Tale Creatures and Beings Anonymous offers them the chance to be themselves, have an agenda, and work on some life goals. Just so long as Zayn can stop asking people to marry him after just one kiss, Harry can turn his Veela powers down, Louis can stop pre-emptively trying to usurp the god of mischief, and Niall can stop turning things into scythes. Liam just wants some orange squash and a biscuit.

steal my heart tonight by ThankYouMerlin | @thankyoumerlin​ (40k)

Niall rips off his ski mask, it was cliche and stupid (and totally Harry’s idea) anyway. “This is my mission.”

“We know,” Liam says, pulling his own mask off. Niall thinks they’re all wrapped a bit too much around Harry’s finger, maybe. “We just like watching you work.”

or,

An OT5 international thieves AU that contains very little actual stealing because I have no idea how to break into vaults in real life and lots of friendship and feelings from five boys in love.

Lilourry

only because you know (that you wanna feel the same) by words_unravel (34k) - [my board]

Liam may be able to catch glimpses of the future, but he never saw this coming.

Shiall

After All, You're My Wonderwall by alienharry | @aceniall (7k)

Guitar Prick: best eagles song, hands down, is peaceful easy feeling. they knew their stuff.

And Niall can't hold in his outrage. He's pissed. The Eagles are his thing, and how dare Shawn think he can message Niall, only nineteen years or so of experience under his belt, and shove his shitty musical concepts and overall terrible taste in Niall's face.

Niall: victim of love is clearly their best song. ya really ought to get your head out of your ass and educate yourself before running your mouth lad.

-

Niall's used to being the center of attention, so when a bright, musical boy with a charming smile starts routinely stealing his spotlight, he decides then and there to do everything in power to put an end to it.

[imaginetonyandbucky]

How to get away with Winter (without murder)

Prompt by Anonymous: what if Winter is separated from Bucky and Winter is very protective of Tony, like more so than Bucky, and he baby's the hell out of him so Tony complains to Bucky who just laughs and joins Winter in spoiling Tony to death 

A/N: I wasn’t sure about how much separated are we talking about, so here’s Winter as his own person, but still part of Bucky - hope that’s alright ^^

Written as a sequel to another prompt fic: How to get away with (murder) Tony (AO3), but can be read as a stand-alone fic as there’s just a minor reference to the previous two stories - that’s where the Bucky/Winter/Tony dynamic comes from though ^^ Enjoy! <3

Tony loves Sunday mornings.

If anyone told him a year ago that he would like any morning at all, he’d laugh for days. He’s hated mornings ever since his early MIT days. Partying and school didn’t mix all too well and once he added late night tinkering, mornings became his worst adversaries.

He’s an owl, he thrives in the night. But then there’s Bucky, an absolute morning person if he’s ever met one – and he does keep on meeting Steve heading off to his morning run at 5AM so, yeah.

Where Tony prefers to hide from the offending rays of sunlight, Bucky bathes in them, enjoying the warmth and light. That’s what he figured real fast – the guy is a morning person and despite his codename he’s a summer guy, too. And Tony can work with that, even though the first few times he’s been woken up by a waaaaay too lively supersoldier at six o’clock on a Sunday were bordering on torturous. He used Sundays to reboot and get enough sleep to warrant another week-long sleepless workshop parties.

Now...well, let’s just say he’s not too unhappy with the new Sundays.

Waking up to a kiss and his all-time favorite Bucky-smile is definitely better than waking up at noon – rested, but alone. This waking up scenario is not limited to Sundays only, so now that he thinks about it, Tony just loves mornings these days.

Especially if they’re coupled with Winter-made waffles for breakfast.

The Other-other guy gets to be in control every now and then – under the promise of not killing anyone during the time – and he uses it for two things: cooking and pranking. Since murder is off the menu, he opted for the lesser evil and just pranks whoever he deems deserving of punishment. And it usually ends up being either one of the Birdbrains or Steve. Tony would berate him about it…it if wasn’t so much fun to watch.

It’s a strange symbiosis the three of them have.

He wakes up alone after yesterday’s eventful game night with the team – playing Activities with Steve, who couldn’t pantomime a growing tree even if he tried and Clint, who made everything look like a scene from the Hunger Games, was admittedly a bad idea. So he immediately guesses the sad display of skills forced Winter out to calm down in the kitchen…after setting up more pranks for the boys of course.

Shuffling into the bathroom, he takes a quick shower and blow-dries his hair to at least look a little respectable before heading down to the common floor.

“I’m afraid he likes spicy, hot meals. I have witnessed him emptying an entire bottle of tabasco onto his lasagna.”

Tony halts at the sound of JARVIS’s voice.

“That is…barbaric,” Winter replies through the clanking of glass bottles.

“Indeed. He is however allergic to lactose.”

He silently moves toward the open entrance to the kitchen to further inspect the scene.

(read-more ahead!)

“Mortally allergic?” Winter asks with renewed interest.

“No, of course not. But he gets a very bad case of acne whenever he drinks milk or eats chocolate.”

Winter pauses and then takes out the opened bottle of milk out of the fridge. “This will do.”

“Isn’t it a bit early for pranking?” Tony says, putting his hands on his hips, trying to look stern. Although he has to admit the sight of pre-pubertal looking Clint was way too funny the last time he indulged in dairy.

Winter’s usually passive expression ignites with something close to satisfaction as he smirks at Tony. “It is the perfect time. He must suffer for his absolute incompetence,” he says, deep and threatening.

“Yeah, I figured. Go crazy, soldier,” he waves at him, rolling his eyes. Registering the blissful smell of waffles he moves towards the counter but Winter blocks his way, hand raised in a stopping gesture.

“No,” he simply says and points at the table. “Sit,” he commands, slipping past Tony to pull one of the chairs for him.

Tony chuckles and lets the man help him get seated. Bucky is the same way. Holding the doors open, helping out in the workshop with heavy lifting, serving him food first before serving himself…but Winter positively spoils him lately. It was cute at first - now it keeps on escalating and Tony’s not sure what to do about that bit.

A minute later, he is presented with a hefty portion of waffles with a side of whipped cream, mashed strawberries and a cup of coffee. His favorite combination. Not the healthiest, but he can’t but indulge every once in a while. And Winter had figured out this particular pattern very early on.

“Thank you. It smells…divine,” he winks at him and digs in with the fork the former assassin quickly procures for him. He hums in appreciation the second he tastes the dish and oh to hell with health. This is better than life.

Winter just nods and moves back to his pranking mission. That somehow involves JARVIS now. Given their past, Tony is happy to see them working together if only it wasn’t pranking. He almost feels bad for Clint at the moment…almost. They’re just too good at this. Today it’s pranking Clint and tomorrow they’ll be taking over the world!

He watches them work in silence, as they eventually decide to sabotage Clint’s very own bottle of coke with just enough milk to not be noticeable, but still effective. For some reason, Birdbrain dumps his morning cereal into coca-cola…who does that?! That’s just…bizarre. And those tabasco lasagna, too. He’s got some seriously weird…bird…tastes.

When he’s done with the plate – somehow managing to restrain himself from licking it clean – he tries to get up and at least do the dishes but nope. The Soldier is quicker than lightning. He takes the dirty dishes, drops them off to the washer and refills the almost empty cup of coffee - all in a span of five seconds. “Uhhhh…thanks. Next breakfast is on me,” he jokes, but Winter gives him a dead serious look.

“No.”

He rolls his eyes at his antics again and sits back in the comfy chair. “Fine, you can have breakfast. Lunch is usually Steve’s. So dinner’s on me next,” he decides, but the other man’s expression only intensifies.

“No.”

“I can cook, too, you know?” he folds his hands defensively, starting to feel a little offended. He’s Tony goddamn Stark! He creates new elements every other Tuesday, he can handle a dinner!

“Of course you can,” Winter agrees. “I would not ever doubt that.”

“It’s settled then!” he beams at him, not bothered by the man’s profound frown.

 He forgets all about the tiny dispute - until he wants to cook that dinner one day and finds that Winter is already in the kitchen, hard at work. He dismisses it and tries to go for it the next day but no luck, Winter already has meat in the oven by the time he shuffles out of the workshop.

When he complains about it with his perfected pout of doom to Bucky later, the little shit just laughs. “’S nothing, Tony. He’s just so happy when he can cook for ya, let him be.”

So he lets him. It’s not like Tony actually likes to cook anyway. And if Winter is happy then he’s happy. And Bucky’s definitely happy.

The problem is that Winter doesn’t just stop at food.

Spoiling him rotten with all his favorite dishes all the time is one thing, but then he moves on to his laundry. Like, the whole deal.

He sorts to clothes by color, then starts up the washing machine, then the dryer, then he irons the clothes, folds them or hangs them neatly into the wardrobe and depending on the day of the week, he even prepares Tony’s favorite pieces for him come morning.

Big ongoing project in the workshop? There are sweatpants and the AC/DC Tee waiting for him. Wednesday SI shareholder meeting? No problem, there’s that sleek black suit paired with the white shirt and crimson-gold tie. Evening date with Bucky? Winter’s got that covered as well with the dark jeans and a casual T-shirt + black jacket combo. He even picks his underwear for fuck’s sake! So what if Bucky’s a fan of those tight boxers! Yes he is and yes, Tony’s aware and by proxy Winter must be aware, but it’s too much.

“I’m more than capable of picking my clothing, thank you very much!” he tells him one day, when Winter nearly puts his choice of clothes on for him as well.

“Of course you are,” he answers immediately, with the same frown as before with the cooking and actually looks appalled by the very idea of Tony being incapable of something so simple. Incapable of anything, really.

So he lets it go again. But laundry only seems to be the beginning for Winter.

When he’s got food and laundry handled, he moves on to the workshop. He can’t do Tony’s work for him – thankfully – but that sure as hell doesn’t stop him from helping out any way that he can. Within few hours, he learns all about the tools Tony uses, so whenever he finds himself in need of a hammer or a screwdriver, the tool materializes on his worktable. Without him even saying anything! He gets so good at it he just knows what Tony’s gonna need and brings it over in a second. And because he’s a master multitasker, snacks and drinks materialize on his table just as well.

“The tools are five steps away from the bench. I can just walk over there when I need something,” he tells him, not sure what he’s expecting in terms of answer.

“Of course you can.” Is naturally the response he gets.

“Then why do you keep bringing them to me?” he asks patiently.

“Because I can, too. You focus on your work. It looks important,” he adds and gets back to being the tool-bringer.

Tony gives up and just calls out whatever he needs and Winter happily brings it to him. Bucky, the little shit he still is, comments on it later, saying they have a funky surgeon - assisting nurse thing going on in the workshop. 

And just when he thinks it can’t in any way escalate from there, Winter is ready to prove him wrong. With the smallest and silliest things possible!

Like sneaking out and going grocery shopping so early in the morning the bagels are still hot when him and Bucky are having breakfast. Or washing the Tesla after a particularly dusty night out. Or turning the bots into his personal army and commandeering them to behave well and basically recruiting them in on his mission – and they’re listening to him. Hell, JARVIS is listening to him. And aside from pranking, the AI supports him in all his Tony-spoiling endeavors.

In the end, he does the only thing he can do. Complain to his all too entertained boyfriend.

“I’m so done with your obsessive inner assassin, like…so done!”

“Oh?” Bucky raises an eyebrow, looking at him innocently.

“It was cute at first…sweet even, I’ll admit. Watching him become a master chef, bully JARVIS for recipes, be so damn happy whenever he got complimented on his work. But come on, now! He’s like a fucking Mary Poppins these days, just more like a perfectionist butler from hell! I can’t do anything when he’s around! Other than work and…walk. And I bet he’s already getting an MIT degree so I don’t have to work either! It’s only a matter of time before he’s carrying me around, too!”

“He likes doin’ things for you, s’all.”

“Wh…that’s…great and…lovely. But there’s a line! He’s going to extremes now!”

Bucky pauses for a moment and then chuckles, presumably because of whatever Winter says. “Tony…trust me when I say, that compared to the extremes he was planning to go into before agreeing to stick with house chores, him pranking the Avengers and caring for you is what I’d call mild.”

“Oh really? What was he gonna do? Murder everyone but me and then bathe in their blood?” he scoffs, but Bucky doesn’t look amused.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Even if he wasn’t looking so serious, Tony would believe him. Winter does have a proclivity for murder. “Okay. So maybe him being all…,” he flails about with his hands, “…attentive is not as bad as it could be. But I seriously don’t need to be baby’d like this to know that he likes me! I know it makes him happy but we’d all be happier if he…tuned it down. Just a little bit!” he suggests, immediately raising a defensive hand. He doesn’t want to sound like a jerk…especially not to the two of them. “I’m sure we can find some new, exciting hobby for him that doesn’t involve murder and obsessing over me.”

Bucky takes a moment to have his inner conversation with the Other-other guy and the way he smirks afterwards should have been a warning. “I’m sure we can.”

“Good. That’s…great. Now, where were we?” he returns the smirk and winks, resuming the cuddling on the couch. 

Somewhere in the heat of that late night conversation, Tony must have forgotten one very important fact. He can easily blame it on Bucky and the effect he has on his usual perceptive and top notch brain activity. But even then he should have realized that Winter and Bucky are…on the same wavelength. The HYDRA-made assassin has spent every waking minute in the presence of Bucky and his thoughts for the past two years. No Handlers to torment him, no murder orders to carry out…just him and Bucky. And it’s the latter, that’s behind his de facto rehabilitation…and everything he does or doesn’t do these days.

In other words, the two think very much alike.

And Tony doesn’t get a better example or proof of this theory than during the next few days after their talk. Winter no longer escalates things, but then Bucky comes into the picture. And where Winter draws a line, Bucky takes the reins and continues on for him with just as much determination and twice the subtlety. While being the one thing Winter is not quite yet – tactile.

So Bucky distracts Tony with a kiss, or more kisses or a touch…and then he’s suddenly being spoon-fed breakfast in-between. Or his formerly messy work table is in absolute order and ready to be used again. Or his favorite coffee, that Birdbrain hides at the very top shelf so that Tony has to all but build a chair pyramid in order to reach, is presented to him in one, swift ninja move, while Birdbrain’s favorite cornflakes get superglued to the ceiling – not the box; every single cornflake, one by one.

Or like right now.

One moment he’s having a conversation with Bruce while watching some weirdly accurate movie about Mars and the next, he’s being wrapped in a duvet like a damn burrito and then deposited on the other end of the sofa, away from his now openly grinning science bro.

Bucky plops down next to him, kisses his cheek and turns away to watch the movie with a tiny smile playing on his lips.

He looks down to inspect his now…mummified state of being and opens his mouth to complain.

Before his brain to mouth filter gets to fail, he swallows the complaint, realizing two things in rapid succession worthy of the genius that he is.

It’s actually quite nice and comfy… he had been getting a little cold so sure, duvet burrito, why not.

And more importantly, the last time he complained about being pampered to no end, instead of making Winter go easier on it, Bucky joined in. He even started pranking the team when an opportunity presented itself just as much as the former assassin part of him.

It leads him to a very simple conclusion.

The more he’ll complain to the two of them, the more they’ll pamper him. Because that’s what they are – birds of a feather. Who else would Winter learn everything from anyway? Of course it had to be Bucky. And Bucky surely got some lovely pointers from none other than the meddling overlord himself – JARVIS.

Tony sends a fiery glare to the nearest camera, but by the time he turns to his boyfriend, it’s transformed into a squinty pout. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he accuses him in a quiet, offended voice. “Both of you,” he adds, knowing Winter is definitely tuned in on this.

“Damn straight,” he smiles at him…like he’s the happiest person on the planet.

Oh hell…Tony isn’t one to give up a fight. But he’s kinda okay giving up this one. Because maybe some fights are actually worth giving up, if the result is as great as that smile right there.

“Fine…you win. Pamper me senseless,” he melts into the cushions, pout replaced with a content smile.

“That’s…not a euphemism, right?” Bruce sends them a strange look. “Because if it is, I have some work in the lab I can go get back to if you need to…pamper each other, you know?”

Tony bursts out with laughter at Bruce’s horrified expression and Bucky’s now frozen smile. “Shut up and watch the movie, Brucie-bear,” he rolls his eyes and wiggles his hands out of the duvet. “Now, you scoot over here,” he points at Bucky and then at his lap.

He raises a questioning eyebrow but slides a little closer and lets himself be maneuvered against Tony…who then gains the most perfect access to his hair.

“If you two get to meddle with my underwear, I’ll get to braid your hair,” he explains, running his fingers through the man’s wild locks.

“Hmmm…’s nice. Braid me all you want,” Bucky murmurs back, relaxing in the half-embrace.

“I swear, if those are all euphemisms I am turning green and killing you both,” Bruce groans, glaring at them now.

Tony feels, rather than hears the rumble of quiet laughter that erupts in Bucky’s chest and smiles, combing through his hair soothingly. “Careful now with the murder talk, Bruce. Wouldn’t want to wake up Winter now, would we?”

“I hate you all,” Bruce mumbles, but smiles at them anyway.

“Watch the damn movie, boys,” Tony prompts them and focuses on the simple fish tail braid and the warm, comfortable weight that is Bucky - and Winter against him.

~Fin

[its-btrz-blog]

The Lunar Chronicles (by Marissa Meyer) Series Review

The Lunar Chronicles is a YA fantasy/science-fiction series by Marissa Meyer, published between 2012 and 2015 by Feiwel & Friends. The main books are Cinder, Scarlet, Cress and Winter. There is a middle book, Fairest, and a collection of short stories, Stars Above. Marissa Meyer also wrote Heartless, a re-telling of Alice in Wonderland, Renegades and graphic novel Wire and Nerves.

What made me want to read it:

This is one of those series that comes highly recommended from all sides on GoodReads, and it fit last month’s group read, so I guessed why not.

What is it about (no spoilers):

The lives of four girls in planet Earth and the Moon intertwine in an effort to save both from the evil Queen of Luna. Cinder is a cyborg in New Beijing who works as a mechanic and is despised and mistreated by her evil stepmother – one day, her shop gets a visit from the prince, and her whole life changes. Scarlet lives in a farm in rural France with her grandmother, an ex-pilot who went to Luna on a diplomatic mission and who has important secrets to hide. Cress is a shell – a Lunar without abilities  - who despite that fact is a genius hacker kept secret and a prisoner used by the evil queen of Luna. Winter is the stepdaughter of the Queen, said to be the most beautiful person in Luna, even though she does not use her abilities and that is making her insane.

What I thought about it (no spoilers):

The first thing I have to say is that the whole concept of this series is amazing and, to my opinion, very original. The second thing, however, is that I don’t feel it was used to its full potential and ended up falling into very average territory.

So yes, we have four fairy tale re-tellings (Cinderella, Red Riding Hood, Rapunzel and Snow White) set in a futuristic world, where our planet’s moon (Luna- yeah, ok, that one wasn’t original at all) has been populated but it’s population has somehow mutated and is not even referred as human anymore, with the Moon being its whole different nation – ruled by an evil queen who wants to conquer Earth. There are Lunars, who are gifted beings (though it is passed off as science and evolution, rather than magic), there are androids, and cyborgs, and spaceships. Still, this managed to be a collection of clichés, including lost princesses and four stories of basically love at first sight. Like, all the main characters – specially Cinder, who is very, very… boring – are made up of two or three superficial traits, with no development beyond that. Cinder is determined to do the right thing and save the world, but feels insecure about herself, Scarlet is headstrong and brave and loves her grandmother, Cress is timid and a day-dreamer and a hacker genius, Winter is the lovable, kind but mad princess. Each one has her love interest, which, apart from a couple who are friends from childhood, is just someone they met like an hour ago, but still they would all die for each other because everyone knows these are fairy tales, so true love is instant and forever, and what are re-tellings for, if not to keep love stories exactly as bland as that?

The villain is basically also directly ripped from fairy tales, as there is not much substance to her, even though there’s a book dedicated to her backstory that’s just… I don’t know, but not interesting at all.

Conclusion:

The general plot of the story sort of kept me entertained but it is really just very basic and average, specially considering all the good reviews and the concept that it spans from. There’s nothing special about any of the characters or their relationships, and I feel like so much more could have been done here.

[This review can also be found here.]

[chloe3629tum-blog]

P90X

In the event that you've observed late night or end of the week digital TV, chance are you've seen promotions for the P90X exercise and exercise recordings in the course of the most recent year or somewhere in the vicinity. They highlight a great deal of genuine when examples of overcoming adversity from individuals who have utilized their program. 

They include a ton of fit individuals turning out to be hard in an entirely extreme looking exercise center setting. Furthermore, they highlight some rowdy music out of sight, making the entire thing look quite cool and welcoming. Also, it has worked - they have sold a great deal of these DVD and video exercise schedules. However, what is P90X? Would you be able to deal with it? How can it work? How are the exercises? What amount does P90X cost? Do you need unique exercise gear for P90X? We'll put forth a valiant effort to address each one of those inquiries and more in this guide as we share our genuine experience utilizing P90X.

P90X (with Tony Horton) means "P"ower, 90 days, Xtreme. On a basic level, P90X is a multi day extraordinary exercise program including a great deal of cardio exercise, extending and yoga, weight lifting and pull-ups and push-ups, genuine 3X every week stomach schedule, and center quality core interest. The program is brought to you by the people at BeachBody.com, and supplements different assortments of video exercises they offer like Hip Hop Abs, Rockin' Body, and Turbo Jam. So truly, while they are in the wellness and exercise business, and they need to sell you items, P90X isn't some vibe acceptable, imagine practice program - it is some genuine stuff and delivers genuine outcomes, however more on that later.

 What amount does P90X cost? It costs $120 direct from BeachBody (they normally offer free transportation), yet we saw many marked down at Ebay for about $80-100 utilized. So what do you get for your cash? P90X is an assortment of 12 DVD exercises, each around 1 hour long. It likewise incorporates a total sustenance and diet plan (the 3 Phase Nutrition Plan), which is exceptionally careful, with itemized supper plans and nourishment data to assist you with accomplishing your objectives of losing fat and building muscle. Also, you get worksheets to keep tabs on your development. The exercises are:

n the event that you are accustomed to working out for 30 minutes or thereabouts, it tends to be a genuine stretch to keep the force up for an entire an hour. Also, you'll be working out 6 days every week for this multi day time span. The exercise schedules were planned and are driven by wellness coach Tony Horton, who is in top condition in his mid-40s. The exercises are totally shot on a harsh looking rec center set, with Tony and 2 or 3 others working out with him, indicating various strategies and style (ie, marginally simpler moves, or utilizing obstruction groups rather than loads).

 In general, the disposition is happy however extraordinary, and it certainly keeps you inspired. The individuals on the screen might be very fit, however they are perspiring and battling simply as are you. As far as hardware, you need a draw up bar (you can get one for about $50 - look at our audit page for pull-up bars for additional subtleties), a yoga tangle, some dumbells or obstruction groups, and alternatively some push-up represents better wrist backing and more scope of movement when doing push-ups. The main other thing you need is to - "BRING IT" as is commonly said, appear every day and put in the exertion. You can purchase the P90X framework from here - we saw some pre-owned ones for under $70.

Before you start, you have to take the P90X Fitness Test to check whether you are prepared for this sort of extraordinary exercise. It begins with a pulse screen. At that point there is a draw up test - you ought to have the option to do at any rate 3 for men, 1 for ladies. At that point you measure vertical jump (reach up and contact divider, at that point hop and perceive how much higher you can reach) - you ought to have in any event 5 crawls for men, 3 creeps for ladies. At that point it's push-ups - men should wrench out 15 least, ladies 3 (or 15 knee push-ups)

. At that point an adaptability test - how close would you be able to get to your toes when plunking down with legs outstretched? You ought to be close to 6 inches away for people. At that point the divider squat - would you be able to keep yourself crouching with down against the divider for 60 seconds? On to bicep twists - men ought to have the option to deal with at any rate reps of 20 lbs dumbells, ladies 10 reps with 8 lb loads. Abdominal muscle test - have the option to do 25 in and outs (sitting generally up, lift legs off floor and carry knees to chest, rehash without letting feet hit ground).

 At long last, complete 2 minutes of hopping jacks, going as quick as conceivable during the most recent 30 seconds. So you can see that the necessary wellness level isn't excessively outrageous, yet individuals who are excessively overweight and flabby will make some intense memories with it. You can download the P90X wellness test directly from their site: pictures/us/neighborhood/items/p90x/p90xFitTest.pdf. My inclination is that the program is advertised to middle age people, say mid 30's to late 40's, who are as of now fit as a fiddle yet who need to propel themselves and truly recapture a portion of the shape and quality and perseverance they had when they were more youthful.

So enough foundation information - how are these exercises, how accomplishes the program work? The preparation program is broken into 3 stages. In each stage, you complete 3 weeks of exercises and afterward have seven days of recuperation before moving to the following stage. Stage 2 includes two new exercises that you haven't seen previously, at that point Phase 3 consolidates Phase 1 and 2 so you are doing all the various exercises during the last month. There are 3 weight/muscle building exercises every week, exchanging with cardio and extending exercises.

On each weight lifting day, you likewise get the opportunity to accomplish something many refer to as Ab Ripper X - an extra 15 minutes of 340 assortments of stomach muscle crunching moves. Once more, the vast majority of the exercises are 1 hour from beginning to end, aside from Yoga X which is an hour and a half. So when you add on Ab Ripper, you are working out for very nearly 80 minutes 3 days per week, an hour and a half one day, and an hour the other 2 days, with one day out of every week for rest or extending. I'm not catching this' meaning? 

Time responsibility. This thing sets aside some effort to do it appropriately, so in the event that you have a surged plan and can't focus on turning out to be every day, you will make some intense memories gaining ground. I think my story was like most - I had been setting off to the rec center to exercise 2-3 times each week for a long time, simply remaining fit as a fiddle without truly propelling myself hard or taking a stab at anything new. I wasn't entirely adaptable, couldn't contact my toes. Could likely bear to shed 10-15 pounds. So I chose to attempt P90X to perceive how hard I could propel myself and what the outcomes would be from 90 days of straight, serious exercise.

When you fly in your first DVD and start the Chest and Back daily practice in Phase 1, you'll see that even the muscle building schedules are a major cardio exercise too. There are 12 arrangements of activities to finish, and afterward you rehash and do them! Aside from a periodic 30 second water break, you have just a 10-15 seconds between works out, so you are in consistent movement, bunches of sweat and substantial relaxing. You will need a water bottle and a towel close by. Every DVD starts with a warmup and extending meeting for around 5 minutes, at that point you get into the difficult work.

 There is likewise a chill off segment toward the end for a couple of moments too, so your genuine exercise time will be 45-50 minutes out of great importance. Every meeting has a clock slider at the base of the screen, indicating how much time is left for every specific exercise, and how much time is left in the entire exercise so you can keep tabs on your development. Love them or disdain them, you'll wind up doing a ton of pull-ups and push-ups. In week #1 I could do only 6 force ups - a month and a half later, I could do 14. Fortunately you "give a valiant effort" - if everything you can put out is 6 push-ups, that is your main thing, record it, and go for 7 one week from now. So the vast majority of these exercises are as hard or as simple as you need them to be, since you work at your quality level and movement. 

During those first weeks particularly, you should push delay and give yourself some additional chance to relax. Also, you WILL have sore muscles everywhere on over your body practically all through the primary month - I'm talking genuine torment in your glutes strolling here and there steps in the wake of doing Plyometrics or the Legs and Back exercise, chest and arms that are consistently delicate to the touch. I truly attempted to get past these exercises the principal week or 2, however after the main month I began feeling truly sure and way more grounded, way more adaptable.

 As I would see it, the Plyometrics exercise is the most testing - I am truly battling for breath and depleted when it is finished. Yoga X is exceptionally testing too on the off chance that you have not done it previously - a ton of those moves that look straightforward require so much quality and equalization, it truly works your body. The fact is, you do see improvement every week as your continuance and quality forms, and on the off chance that you are submitted, you start to anticipate these exercises every day as you travel through the schedule. I discovered Tony, even in taped configuration, to be uplifting and persuasive, regardless of whether his jokes get a bit of tiring after you hear them for the eighteenth time.

ou see many individuals giving tributes on the P90X advertisements about how their bodies have changed, and I think I trust them. Like I referenced previously, I went from having the option to do only 6 draw ups to just about 15 throughout 60 days. Without following any extraordinary eating regimens, I shed 8 pounds in the initial 45 days.

 I figure you should consume 500-600+ calories in these hour long exercises, and at 6 times each week, I was buring WAY a larger number of calories than I did from simply heading off to the rec center two times every week. As far as adaptability, I made enormous increases, going from not having the option to contact my toes to having the option to putting my palms level on the floor. Another genuine model is the Ab Ripper X exercise. The principal w

[motherofadamsfamily]

Nepal 2020 - Pokhara

Day 4 - Pokara 11 March

A wet n wild ride.....

We set off for Pokhara today- a 200 km drive to the east from Kathmandu. To break the trip, we decided to spend some of the time white-water rafting, on the Trishuli River. We arrived at the site before the rest of our party, so Cecil, our guide, escorted us to the village suspension bridge that spans the river. Built in 2017, at 216m long it allows the locals to cross the river with ease, and also creates a scenic picture.

On the other side of the river we strolled through the fields of produce – cabbage, rice, and maize, and laughed at the numerous pet goats the farmers keep, side-stepping and trying to leap over each other, to gain better access to whatever food was on offer.

We lunched with the rest of our party – Paul and Genevieve from America, and Ali from Melbourne. A short lesson on the paddling techniques of white-water rafting from Cecil, and we were off.

The surrounds we so tranquil and peaceful – a lovely change from the chaos of Kathmandu. We had an ‘emergency kayak’ in the event of anyone falling out – but he spent the start of the rafting paddling around splashing us with his oar, thoroughly drenching everyone! The beginning of the trip was rapid-free, so Cecil asked if we’d like to hop in the river for a swim. As the Trishuli is considered sacred by the Nepalese, they don’t litter it, so it is lovely and clean – AND BRISK! It took me a couple of minutes to catch my breath, but it was so fresh and invigorating. A wonderful moment of ‘down time’, to float on our backs and appreciate the sounds and sights of nature, without the traffic background.

The only problem was trying to get back in to the raft! The water is quite deep, and I have absolutely no strength in my arms with this ‘frozen shoulder’ issue, so when Cecil yelled “pull!” (for me to hoist myself over the external float of the raft) there was little I could do. Cecil, at half my weight, was pulling with all his might – but had also unfortunately grabbed the chinstrap of my helmet along with the shoulders of my life-jacket, and was choking me as he attempted to lift me back in to the raft. So there I am, face first in the raft, Gomez (the husband) still in the river shoving my backside and Cecil trying to sit me the right way up, but strangling me in the process – and all the while I’m flapping and flailing uselessly, like a landed whale! I’m assured by the others it was hilarious!!

The rafting was SO much fun. Lazy river paddling, populated with rapids such as ‘Short and Sweet’, ‘Ladies Delight’ and ‘Monsoon’ – but Cecil worried us by constantly referring to ‘Upset’ – so named because more often than not, the raft is overturned and all paddlers are tossed in to the rapid. Oh, great!! If I can’t get back in to the boat in placid waters, how the heck am I going to deal with this?!

Sure enough, we eventually heard the command “lock your feet – Upset is coming” and braced ourselves for the worst. The water was heaving and swirling madly over submerged rocks, the cross-currents crashing into each other, creating sizeable mounds of foam. We paddled like mad, then heard “get down!” so abandoned our attempts and huddled together inside the raft, while it was tossed relentlessly by the surging river. We bobbed like a cork out of control for what seemed like ages, then as the water calmed, we tentatively looked around, counting heads. We had all made it!! YIPPEE!!we raised our oars in celebration, only to be told by Cecil – “hang on, you have to survive ‘Upset Two’ yet!” WHAT?! But – no stress, we handled anything the river (literally) threw at us. One last rapid – ‘Surprise’ – and it was. A narrow opening between two massive boulders on the riverbank, causing the water to swell with great force through this space. Out the other side, and – cue the music – “We are the champions!” It was awesome, and I’m so glad we decided to do it!

We spent the next two hours alternatively dozing, or holding our breath as our driver, Dip, navigated the barrier-less hairpin bends above a deadly drop down the side of the mountain. This was done, while brightly decorated trucks (they like to ‘pretty up’ their work vehicles) charged at us relentlessly from the other direction. People definitely have a method in their madness in regard to the driving process, but I wouldn’t want to take them on! Dip is certainly the Superman of drivers.  With scant disregard for safety, bike riders zoom within a hairs’ breadth between cars, without reducing speed. That, and the fact that Nepali law only requires the rider (not the passenger) to wear a helmet, had me gasping and shaking my head more than once. But there’s no road-rage here – everyone seems to just accept this traffic lunacy (cars tend to do the same thing – “you snooze, you lose”) Dip just tended to take it all calmly in his stride. As I said – Superman!

On arriving in Pokhara, we met with our guide, Dipak – the master of the superlative. We received our orientation talk – “you will be entranced, you will be overjoyed, you will be – discombobulated! – by the beauty of Pokhara”, then were left to our own devices. As we’re pretty exhausted after the activity of today, it was a short stroll for dinner, then bed.

[yoitssabrinee]

To Mercy We Plead

I am actually quite dissatisfied with how this turned out, but it got a little too long (is 7 pages and 3263 words long? lol) so here’s the first chapter of what I think is decent enough for a Prompto + Reader thing? Yeah lmao

Many thanks to @inconsistencys​ and @projectcherry12​ for their help, feedback, and all the references they have provided me with--i could never do this without their help and support (and for Christ’s sake please follow them they are amazing people ok thank u) and also i need u guys to point out what i did wrong here and what i amiss because i am seriously delirious rn oh my god

p.s. this is unedited btw lmao i’m still in the dark about what to write for the summary so here’s to nothing!

SUMMARY:

A lifetime of repentance would never erase the regret building inside you as long as the person you’ve hurt are still bound to their past. But maybe redemption is on your way, and you’d be damned to let that chance go. (Prompto Argentum + Reader)

WARNING: Mentions of bullying, harassment.

prologue - part 1 - part 2

It was eight in the morning.

Sun was way up in the sky; the air smelled fresh and nice; the sky was clear; and it seemed to be the perfect weather for a stroll in the park, or maybe a casual walk through the city sidewalks, staring at street-side stalls selling kebabs and ice cream cones or just simple trinkets like key chains and cheap bracelets.

Yet here you were, face down and backside up, spine sore and screaming in pain at the hit it took from the blunt object across the room.

That made it the fifth time you’ve been kissing marble floors in a span of nearly one hour.

Your vision was swimming, unshed tears prickling at the corners of your eyes and body singing with exertion, but you’ve mapped and memorized the layout of the room so clearly from days moving all around it to know which corner was which even when you had your eyes closed—the trick here was to maximize your hearing sense so you could make out the movements of the other recruits, who were crowding the outline of the stage, silently snickering behind their hands.

Lips thinning in defiance, you quickly whirled and jumped into position, scrambling for the makeshift wooden sword laying just a ways away—previously knocked out of your hand—from you and biting back a sob as you stumbled forward, facing the opponent that had been handing your ass back to you in the past fifty-five minutes.

You knew this was not part of training—it was just a simple reflex-based move, dammit—but still your face felt hot with shame.

Not to mention that it was an extremely important day, and you totally blew it.

Baby blue eyes watched you and your opponent’s forms from the side line, silently judging your performance the whole hour you had been on that floor, eyes squinting whenever you took a hit on whichever part of your body that was left open for your rival to strike. It was humiliating—both from having Cor the Immortal’s eyes on you and seeing disappointment crinkling them every time you hit the deck, and catching the glint in your audience’s narrowed orbs as they silently cheered on your loss.

You were a hundred percent sure you just failed the test.

Cor’s voice rang across the expanse, “You’ve got five minutes left. Make it count.”

Make it count.

Like hell you would.

With a yell you charged, wooden sword swiping forward with unrelenting force, your intentions loud and clear—bring the enemy down in one fell swoop and spare yourself from yet another day of insult and embarrassment.

But, of course, this was one of the top fighters you were dealing with—top jock of the elite Special Forces, newly initiated as recruit barely six months ago but he was already making his way up with amazing performance. At this rate even you wouldn’t be surprised to see the likes of him flanking Cor’s side as his right hand man.

Which, to your dismay, just solidified everybody’s—minus yours—opinions on him as he sent you sprawling a final time to the floor, concluding the day’s events.

It was barely nine in the morning.

The applause that followed nearly made you deaf, but you were too busy willing yourself not to cry as you stand up, using the sword as support to steady your stance before you made your way toward the threshold. Ignoring all the pointed looks aimed your way, you trotted toward where the Marshall was standing, clipboard in his arm.

You wanted to scream, you wanted to plead to him to give you a second chance. You’d do anything to make up for that lack of performance, the absence of focus that was the main point of all the training you’ve endured for the past nine months. Yet the moment you stood before him, saluting and addressing him by title, the look on his face gave him away. At this rate even disappointment was an understatement; you turned your gaze to the floor, finding interest on the cracks between the tiles.

Hours of toiling and getting decked in the shins at ass o’clock by colleagues who just wanted to bring you down had all amounted to nothing.

You heard him call your name, and when you lift your eyes from the floor you were met with icy blues boring deep into your skull, his lips thinning into a straight line. “I want you to know that you have potential. I want you to know that I know that potential is somewhere in that body of yours, waiting to be brought out.” He was silent for a spell before he continued, “But I also want you to know that today, you didn’t meet the expectations I’ve set up for most of the recruits that have joined us here today. Your posture is off, your stance needs more work, your overall performance is lacklustre at best, and I’m not even going to touch on the way you handle yourself during mock battles.”

You nod, then finding whatever strength you had in you, you said, “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

He took another moment longer to stare at you before he let out a long sigh, signing something off on the clipboard. You didn’t want to see what it was, but you were fairly sure he had just written you off as a ‘fail’.

You dug your teeth into your bottom lip, feeling fresh tears stinging your lashes.

“Right now you’re not ready for that. Not yet. I’m sorry, but you know what this means for you, right?”

You nodded, not daring to lift your eyes to meet his, fearing that the tears would actually spill should they make contact.

Cor let out another sigh.

“You’re dismissed.”

And just like that, you failed the exam that would initiate you into the Crownsguard as an elite.

(s)

The Discussion tab was brimming with visitors, as usual; since the last time you were there, it had reached the triple digits in a span of a week, stated by the ever rotating digital numeral widget tucked at one corner of the website. Today, you were contributing another number to that widget by surfing through the page, fingers finding the ‘Post New Thread’ button on default and flying over the virtual keyboard to type.

It only took a couple of taps to get to where you usually frequented on the forum, having the website bookmarked for convenience on your phone. Since the minute you left the training room, every recruit that had passed you at the halls kept turning your way; you were past the point where you wanted to just snap and tell them off. You never know what they were saying, but you figured anything that they have to say was about you—and anything about you was never a good thing.

Especially since every eye seemed to be judging your every move.

Somnus’ Assembly for the Desperate and Needy—it was one of the only refuges you have, ever since you were initiated as a beginner into the Crownsguard forces; one of the only places where you could express yourself and your words without being looked at as if you were mental. Ever since your accidental stumble into the website during one exceptionally spiralling day, months prior, you have been a frequent, if not a little too infrequent, visitor of the page, occasionally posting threads retelling your troubles or giving out advice to those who you think might need it—or, you know, just drop in others’ threads and comment. In that place where nobody knew anybody except for their tales of toil and distress, no one would give you the side eye because no one knew what your history was and they would never judge you based on what you used to be.

Some, if not all, of the visitors have disclosed their own personal details to give vivid descriptions to their stories, but you weren’t on that level of comfortable to even share your past to the internet world. At least, not yet.

The ‘New Thread’ text box was only filled with a line of words, after a couple of minutes of deleting, then retyping, then deleting before retyping again, because every word you used seemed to expose too much, tell too much of your side. You just wanted to be frank, straightforward, and honest, but at the same time you didn’t want to give away anything.

In the least, you wanted a side where you could keep all your secrets without being appraised. The website have been your saving grace.

 {toothless-vore has posted a new thread!}

 Your lips quirked into a small smile at the sight of the bolded letters gracing yet another tab of new thread discussion on the page, a tinge of relief washing over you at finally letting a piece of distress out. You were about to swipe the webpage out, having done away your trouble, when it suddenly refreshed by itself, and your thread indicated that a visitor had read it, and commented on it.

You opened the post, wondering what it was, then felt the smile at your lips growing wider as you read:

 {yellow-birdboy has posted a reply!} {10:11AM}

∑(;°Д°) omg are u ok?? im sorry that happened to u!! are u alright???

 It was only a simple thread, the top post lined with only one sentence, read: just failed exam, conked out atm, feelin real down and need lots of choc. But to this person who had gone by the username yellow-birdboy, it was a big deal. Funny how you have trouble making friends in the real world, but on the internet, people like this wanted to hear what you have to say and read all your stories with immense interest, especially since none of you know each other that personally to invest time in strangers on the net. One of the perks of being anonymous and hiding behind fake names, you guessed.

 {toothless-vore has posted a reply!} {10:12AM}

yea m fine, nothing i cant handle dw ( ´ ▽ `)ﾉ

{yellow-birdboy has posted a reply!} {10:15AM}

i know u can, but lemme know if u wanna vent yea?? im always up for a lil motivation!! ( •̀ᗜ•́)ง

{toothless-vore has posted a reply!} {10:19AM}

thnx boo, preciate it (✿´ ‿`)

 This Birdboy user wasn’t entirely new in your list of followers and subscribers; in fact, he had been among many who was—supposedly—enamoured by the way you “carried” yourself, as they put it—to them, you seemed like the strong type of person, full of wisdom waiting to be imparted to those who wanted them. You weren’t an admin, not even a moderator, of the forum, so you didn’t know why they would actually take a liking to you, but seeing the increasing numbers of subscribers on your profile, you might as well be one.

It was just that Birdboy—you liked to dub them as that—was one of the few who cared enough to chat you up, lifting your spirits with chats that would carry you into the morning and making you laugh at horrible puns they cooked up for your sake. Contrasting ironically with how the daylight would often turn that smile upside down.

 {toothless-vore has posted a reply!} {10:21AM}

talk bout motivation, it seems like tmro is my 1st apptmt ( •́〰•̀)

{yellow-birdboy has posted a reply!} {10:23AM}

oo yea, u mentiond that like last week!! did ya kno who u gonna meet?? ( ◕▽◕)

{toothless-vore has posted a reply!} {10:25AM}

idk but if its anything like a therapy i doubt the doc wd be any nice ( •́ᗣ•̀)

aaaand i heard its gonna be group ( ; ≧ 〜≦)

{yellow-birdboy has posted a reply!} {10:27AM}

ooh

looks like its gonna be

team-ing w ppl, dontcha think?? ( >ᗜ◕)୨

 You didn’t even realize you were bursting with laughter until the occupant of the bed across yours turned to give you a long, weird look. You immediately clapped a hand over your mouth, snorting into your palm as you tried to calm yourself, fingers of the other hand furiously typing out a response:

 {toothless-vore has posted a reply!} {10:28AM}

WTF that was bad that was really really bad n u shud feel ashamed of urself omg

{yellow-birdboy has posted a reply!} {10:29AM}

HEY!! ( •̀ᗣ•́)

well at least it made u laugh right?? ( ;´ `)╯

{toothless-vore has posted a reply!} {10:31AM}

yea lol

thnx birdie <3

{yellow-birdboy has posted a reply!} {10:33AM}

no prob!! ( ◕▽◕)

oh yea, spk of apptmt, i just scheduled one too

n guess what?? its tmro ヽ( ; ⁰▽ ⁰)ﾉ

im so scared lol

 It was an agreement, basically; if one made an appointment to go through counselling therapy, then the other would support it by making one, too. A promise made during a night where hushed, cynical whispers turned into full-blown brawling sessions that escalated into you—and the party involved—going through the weekend in detention, allowance to go home or anywhere lifted until all of you behaved accordingly.

Not like you actually have a home to go to, but you had plans, and you were quite bummed when it happened.

 {toothless-vore has posted a reply!} {10:35AM}

aw yes u did it bud!!

gud luck 2 both o us then!!

{yellow-birdboy has posted a reply!} {10:36AM}

yep! (•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑

hey i know this is sudden but i gotta go so ttyl!!

n tell me everything bout ur session latr tmro ok??

 You barely typed out ok!! cyaa when the phone was wrenched out of your hand, and you watched in horror as a tall brunette before you—dressed in Crownsguard fatigues minus the jacket issued to every initiate—swiped through the screen, reading everything that was on it while sporting a sideways grin—the same grin that you’ve come to hate, because you damn well know who this was, and you weren’t about to give in to her. Not yet.

Probably over your dead body. Some day.

“Give that back, Adicus.” There’s venom in your voice, and any lesser human would have just handed you what you wanted without even looking at you twice—except you were the lesser human in this case and you knew that the sternness in your tone would do nothing again this person who was literally taller—and bigger—than you were. The two women flanking both her sides did little to assuage your fears; they were larger than you, albeit a little smaller than their taller leader. “Or else.”

But your threat only fell into deaf ears, as this Adicus flung back her chestnut tresses to look at you through raised brows, lips set in a snarky grin. “Or else what, tough one?” she spat out, something dripping from the tone of her voice that made you shiver involuntarily. “Nice of you to try to come at me with that look and tone, considering you just got your ass handed by Melphites and failed your initiate exam.” Then she put a hand over her chest, face scrunched in mock hurt. “Ooh, the pain! Don’t worry, I know exactly how it feels. Too bad for someone who claimed they wanted to protect the people, they just keep failing, y’know? It’s natural.”

Tristus Adicus. You remembered her from your heydays in grade school—the figurative leader of the group you had approached and befriended before a certain fiasco prompted your transfer, thus cutting off your (supposed) friendship with her. She had been in awe of your boldness—that was what she had been telling you, until the moment came to light where you just know it was her doing that had drove you to the spot you were currently in.

Karma had handed you whatever you deserved in return; you didn’t think karma would be this awful.

You were standing now, noting how obvious the height differences were between the both of you as you stood before her, fists clenched, trying to reel in your emotions as to not give yourself—and many others—any trouble. “Adicus.” You weren’t about to lose yourself to her provocations, no matter how bad it was. “Give that back. Right now.”

Provocations be damned. You just failed one of the most important events in your life; you weren’t about to get yourself kicked out of the Crownsguard entirely.

Then, whether it was by common or it was just another Adicus brand of provocation, you didn’t know which, she dropped the phone on your bed, and it bounced once on the springy material before you quickly pocketed it, keeping it out of sight.

She stood where she was, firmly holding her gaze against yours, that lopsided smirk still adorning her surprisingly gentle face before she said, “Just to be clear, I’m still not done about that last time we had it. So be prepared; I might come at you any time of the week, and no one can do anything to stop it.”

Then she left, bringing her two-person entourage with her, and only then you realize how the other girls had been watching the scene, expecting a spectacle, and slowly dispersing under your intense look. But you couldn’t give a damn. You flop down onto your bed, reached under it for the backpack you’ve kept your personal things in, and started rummaging through it.

You opened your phone to see the typed out response still in the Reply text box, but Birdboy had gone offline. As expected. You sent the response anyway, and set about going to tomorrow’s session, hoping it wouldn’t be as bad as the stories the internet had told you.

(s)

“You sure you don’t want me to come along?”

It was comical to see that mop of blond hair—spiked up as it was—bobbing up and down as its owner bent his head over the open zipper of the bag, checking its contents for the second time. The dark-haired young man leaning on the doorway next to him kept watch, eyes sometimes straying to the open front door, adjacent to his bedroom, possibly to keep intruders out, but really, what kind of intruder would be stupid enough to invade the apartment, especially when there were guards posted literally everywhere?

“Yeah, I’m good,” the blond said, finally zipping up and slinging the pack over his shoulders, heading for the front. “Thanks for having me over last night. You wanna go out for dinner again sometime after the session? My treat.”

He was saying it casually, partially gloved hand lifting up and down to emphasize himself, but the boy with the dark hair knew better. The slight shake in the blond’s voice was enough to give him away.

He reached out to touch his friend’s shoulder, bare from the sleeveless top he wore since yesterday. Sign of how distracted that blond partner of his could be, when nervousness and second-guessing began to lead his thoughts into panic. He needed distractions, he needed help. And as much as he could get it, he would find help.

He patted the freckled part of the appendage, smirking at the nervous way the blond was smiling—trying to calm himself.

“Don’t worry, Prompto,” Noctis nodded his head at the jittery blond. “You’re doing great. I know you could do it.”

And Prompto smiled—for real.

He knew he could do it.

[alolanzubat-moving]

I read the post about you and your wife can you please tell the story it's so adorable

 Aaaaaa, omg, okay, sure~

For those who don’t know, this is based on a post made by @sixpenceee for people to tell the stories of how they met their s/o’s. ^^ My wife is @nari-the-kitty-queen.

Alright, so I had always been an outcast in school, “the weird kid”, ya know? It had been that way since elementary, and it continued my first year of middle school (sixth grade where I’m from starts middle school).

The first day, when the teacher (Ms. L, we’ll call her) called role, I noticed I wasn’t the only one sitting alone/not with a clique. There was one other student who was by herself as well, and thanks to my habit of trying to learn all the names of my classmates, I quickly figured out her name (I’ll refer to her as Miyuki). I wanted to make friends with her, but I was (and still am) super awkward and had literally no social experience at all. So, I went with the first idea that popped into my head: I sat in her seat the next day to see what she’d do. Spoiler: she sat behind me instead of confronting me about being in her seat.

The next day, I sat in the seat she had taken when I took hers, and she sat in her normal seat, putting her in front of me. Well, since this was getting me nowhere, I figured “why not pass notes and see if she shares an interest with me?”. Second best decision of my life. (You’ll learn the first later on in this story.) Back then, my biggest interest was (no surprise) anime. The note I passed her was basically me asking if she had ever seen my favorite anime, Yu Yu Hakusho. Turns out, she actually had! We kept passing notes for the entirety of the class, and it continued the next few days. We ended up becoming really good friends.

Fast forward to the next year. We had gotten heavily into roleplaying (sometimes even writing smut) via the notes we passed one another during school. By now, everyone in the school was aware that we were really close, and there were already rumors spreading around saying that we were lesbians. (This is before I figured out I was trans, so everyone including myself perceived me as a girl.) Now, for those who aren’t aware, my dad was super strict. He was the type who didn’t want his kids to grow up, and that meant he didn’t want us venturing into nsfw area at all, with anything. Double hit for me, because he also didn’t want any of his kids turning out to be gay/lesbian.

Just my luck that he found one of our smut roleplays. I managed to lie my way through it since he couldn’t tell our handwriting apart and thought I was writing this stuff by myself. I got off with a slap on the wrist and him telling me not to continue writing “vulgar material”. My luck worsened when he came across another of our roleplays a few months later and found out I was writing with my best and only friend.

He gave me the third degree, asking me why I’d write things like that with her. I panicked and bluffed, responding with “Well what if I like her?!”. (That is without a doubt the very best decision I have ever made.) He didn’t take the bait and called me on it, telling me “If that’s the case, then ask her out”. He basically cornered me and said that if she didn’t return my “affections”, then I’d be heavily punished - which coming from him meant that I’d have my whole room stripped bear save for my bed and clothes. Yea, my dad was abusive I know. Oh boy did I start panicking worse...

I did have a stroke of luck though. This all happened about two weeks or so before our school’s winter dance. That night, I wrote up a cringey little love note - the kind with “circle yes or no” at the bottom - and gave it to her the next day at school. I was a wreck the whole day, but she confronted me at lunch break and said that she felt the same way and that she’d go to the dance with me, as a couple. I won’t lie, I felt bad for deceiving her like that.

Well, I kept up the facade for a while, going with the flow as things started to happen between us. Sleeping in the same bed grew to cuddling, which grew to hand holding, which grew to nose nuzzling, which grew to cheek kisses, which grew to actual kisses, which grew to fondling, etc. Every step of the way, I kept telling myself it wouldn’t go any further. BOI WAS I WRONG. After about a year or so I started noticing that, oddly enough, I was okay with what was happening.

That August, her mom, T, (who hates me) was planning a huge birthday party for Miyuki. Her mom insisted that she invite this guy named Shannon to the party. Shannon was basically the edgy high school guy every girl wanted to be with. T really wanted Miyuki to be with this guy, really wanted grandkids from the two of them. Well, I had no idea that her mom was forcing her to “break up” with me. It caused a huge rift between us back then.

During the months we were technically broken up, Shannon asked her out and her mom made her agree to it. I hate admitting this, but Miyuki’s mom actually tried coercing Miyuki into sleeping with this asshole when she was only 16. (He was 19 back then, and in our state, a minor can’t be involved with any non-minor more than two years older than them.) Thank God it didn’t work. (I say this because she didn’t want to, not just because I hated the dude.)

Anyway, during eighth grade graduation, Miyuki pulled me aside and told me she was happy I was graduating. She was acting really weird though, and I picked up on it. I’m still not sure if she did it intentionally or not. After the ceremony, my maternal grandmother invited me to go spend my early summer with them a few hours away, and agreed. It was sort of a tradition in my family that me and my brothers go spend summer with them anyway, so it’s not like this was strange. 

A few nights into the stay, my aunt (who lives on the same property, pretty much a block away) offered to let me use her phone to call Miyuki like I usually did when I stayed there. None of them knew Miyuki and I weren’t exactly on speaking terms at the time, much less that my dad had forbade me from making any contact with her. Being the little rebel I was, I took the offer. My heart sunk when it rang through to voicemail. I got so depressed that I cried myself into a nap. My aunt woke me up later that evening telling me that Miyuki had called back, so I tried returning the call and got voicemail again. Late, late that evening, she called back on my grandmother’s house phone. We started talking, and things ended up almost the same as they used to be.

Until Shannon called her during our conversation. At first, she ignored his calls to her cell, which is what she had used to call me. He tried about twenty times over the span of ten minutes before he stopped trying the cell and switched to her grandmother’s house phone. (The reason this was bad is because of late it was.) Miyuki’s grandma answered the phone and she (the grandma) told Shannon it was far too late to be calling like he did. After they hung up, he tried that same house phone another two times, only giving up when Miyuki’s grandpa answered the phone and insisted that Shannon stop. Over the next five minutes, Shannon tried Miyuki’s cell number another thirty (I’m not exaggerating) times. At this point, Miyuki told her mom that she didn’t want to talk to him, that he was getting possessive. (He really was, this dude had bad seperation issues and tried guilting Miyuki into sleeping with him.) Her mom pretty much told her to do what she wanted because she was tired of hearing Miyuki’s complaints about him. Miyuki told me to hang on and that she’d deal with it. She put the phone on three way the next time Shannon called, and I took the hint and muted my end so he wouldn’t know I was listening. Boi, when I say she went off, she went OFF.

The conversation (starting with Miyuki, then him, and continuing to alternate) went something like this:

“Hello”“Hey, I’ve been trying to call you.”“Yeah, I know, what of it?”“Are you still coming with me on that family trip?”“Uh, no. I told you that yesterday.”“But--”“Look dude, I’m tired of your crap. You’re controlling. You don’t want me having friends, you whine anytime I’m not in your line of sight, you’re trying to get me to have sex with you even though I’ve told you over and over that I’m doing it, and you cry any time I tell you no. You’re an immature little baby and I don’t want to be with you anymore. We’re done.”

Cue her cutting the line with him and me unmuting my end just in time to say yes when she asked me if I wanted to go back out with her, this time officially.

We’ve been pretty much inseparable ever since then, and almost anyone who knows us knows that we come as a pair - including our families.

The end ♥