#ugh little vent ahead in the tags

[woodfrogs]

fellas im gonna be honest idk how many more 11 hour days i have left in me

[kiku91]

WIP Files Game

I was tagged by @forestlingincorporated

RULES: post the names of the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! tag as many people as you have WIPs

No Road Back To Bethulia

A Tale of Two Sisters

Post Linds Betrayal Scene

Part 3 Snippet

Battle Nexus NYC Extended

NRBTB Flashback chapter

NRBTB Betrayal Scene

OuaTinTA

A lot of these are connected or part of the same stories where I wrote scenes or chapters ahead and wasn’t going to copy it in the main file until I got to that part. So….uh…kinda spoilers much?

Speaking of spoilers, here is a snippet of the flashback chapter (a future bit in “no road back to Bethulia”) because dammit, I wrote this chapter two months ago, and probably won’t be able to release the full thing for another two….

The quiet of Big Mama’s office was disturbed as a vent was pushed out of the wall. A small, olive-skinned turtle clambers onto the floor, stepping in a pile of web.

“Ew…what happened here?” Artemisia wonders aloud as she takes in the broken window, toppled furniture, and wads of web plastered around the room.

“Venus?” A muffled sound surprised the river cooter as she froze in response. “Vee-Vee, is that you?” Big Mama’s voice could be heard behind a wall.

Artemisia’s eyes widened with surprise and she crept closer to the vault door. She bit her lip. She knew she wasn’t supposed to be in here, Big Mama knew she wasn’t supposed to be in here; answering would be a trap, however what was the old spider doing in her vault, while it was closed? Curiosity got the best of her.

“Yes, Big Mama?” She asked cautiously.

“Could you be a dear and unlock the door, Vee-Vee?” The spider replies sweetly.

Artemisia stifles a laugh “Wait...so…you are…actually…stuck in there?” She smiles.

“Stop laughing already and get me out!” The spider groans. The cooter was cupping her mouth and giggling. It shouldn’t be so amusing, however Artemisia never remembered a time when the old spider could be so humiliatingly outwitted. And Big Mama wasn’t the kind to get herself locked by accident.

“VENUS DE MILO IF YOU DON’T OPEN THIS DOOR!” Big Mama yells.

“I’m so sorry, yes Big Mama.” Artemisia snaps to attention, wipes her eyes and moves the dials to the lock. The door hisses as the disheveled yokai stumbled out. Artemisia felt a ping of guilt and held her under her arms and led her to the desk. “What exactly happened?”

“Ugh, some brats ran amok in my hotel…after I went to the trouble to double cross them…” She nurses the back of her head as she slumps in the chair.

so to tag��

@tei-to-tei, @greatlyblessed, @thegodovereverything, @ilovebeingaturtle, @tooflesswrites, @redak-ted, @dangersoupartist, @pigeonsgrame

have fun! Don’t feel obligated to reply if you are not interested.

[doggytail-duck]

It's 5:30 am, I've slept like three hours, but I can't sleep

Might as well get up

[olympiansally]

Ok so I tried so hard this week like so hard to keep romanticizing things and remember who I am and be like no but you know what the world is actually good and beautiful sometimes so this is fine.

But tbh I’m having such a hard time and every day feels like a different punch from humanity going well actually no. It won’t be okay. It isn’t good. You won’t actually be fine.

And like why? I swear I’m trying so hard just let me have one beautiful not wrecked feeling please

[queenofbaws]

✏👖🌙🌈

And 💋 how are you so dang nice and such a delight to see on all our feeds?😌🙌💖

Also if I can add another, 🖋 (👀🍿✨)

dskfjlskdjf aw man, you are way too kind!!! got me grinning like a fool over here, thank you so much!! :D

✏️ Do you write every day? i try to! that's part of the reason i started doing my little flash fiction weekends too - so i could still keep up my writing every day while giving my brain a bit of a break from focusing on "serious" fics by spitting out a bunch of little drabbles instead!

👖 Are you a planner, plantser, or pantser? Is it consistent? i'm usually a planner...in like...a big way, lol. i have a million outlines at any given time, usually split between my phone and my desktop, and those outlines have outlines, which also have outlines...i definitely plan. every so often though (i'm looking at you, challenge month), i try and pants it, but that's usually just for shorter oneshots.

🌙  What time of day do you prefer to write? Why? late afternoon/evening! i ramble about it in my tags a bit, but ya gurl's got one of them fun and funky fresh chronic illnesses all the kids are talking about these days, and honestly it takes me hours to be able to think clearly in the morning, ha! usually once the sun goes down it's easier for me to really use my brain, so i try and make the most of it!

🌈 What inspired you to write [insert fic here]? i hope you don't mind that i'm gonna go ahead and do this for the (almost)s, since you didn't specify!! t(a) came about for a few reasons, the biggest of which were: (1) after playing ud iiiiiii couldn't rest until i gave josh the end i wanted him to have, (2) i was having some Feelings about my illness i needed to vent in a way that wasn't just...me yelling about it lol, and (3) i'm a psychologist and i HAD to get my grubby fingers in those delinquents' brains and pick them apart. and now HERE WE ARE!

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP.

“It’s not just me, right?” he asked over his shoulder, keeping the light trained on the jar. “I’m not the foremost authority on anatomy or anything, but something’s…seriously wrong with this thing, don’t you think?”

There was none of the wry amusement he’d heard from Chris in Sam’s voice. “Josh. It’s a head. In a jar. Yeah. Yeah. There’s definitely something wrong here.”

“That’s so not what I meant. It’s the…I mean, it’s the bones. Like…what is up with those chompers?”

There was a sick, lurpy sound from behind him, no doubt Ashley still fighting with her gorge, but lo and behold, even the imminent threat of barfing couldn’t stop Encyclopedia Brown when there were fun facts to be had. “Whatever it’s preserved in probably…oh geez…it probably ate away at…ugh, can we…you got the shot, right? I can’t…I don’t want to be in the same room as that anymore, okay? Please? I feel like it’s looking at me…or through me, or…or something.”

fanfic asks!

[plussizeappreciationfics]

OS: Lost a friend

Idea by: My muse @ticklikeabomb​

Pairing: Chris Evans x Plus sized reader

Summary: You thought that Chris appreciated you, but you were wrong

Warning(s): crying

Word count:< 1,5k

Picture(s) found on: Pinterest/Google

“Can I be honest for a second?”

Is what you heard while inhaling softly, gently closing the door to Chris’s apartment with a small smile resting on your face. Hearing his voice always eased your tensed body and sent a rush of tingles down your spine. You were happy that he was home while sneaking into his apartment. You just had gotten off work and decided to surprise him with his favorite snacks and a list of movies available on Netflix, ready to be watched.

 You turned around on the tip of your toes and swiftly looked around the actor’s apartment, realizing that his voice was coming from his bedroom, the door being wide open. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw Dodger walk out of the bedroom, his tail wiggling in excitement once he saw you walking over to the living room area and dropping the bag of snacks on the small coffee table.

 “Hey Dodger!” you whispered while petting his head as he had rushed over to you, you loved that dog to pieces. The thought of being able to relax with him and Chris on the couch…and maybe finally having the courage to tell the actor about your romantic feelings for him made your stomach churn in excitement and a little discomfort. You’ve never mastered the art of confessing your love.

 You and Chris had been friends for a few years now, it didn’t take you long to fall in love with him. But the unfortunate part was that whenever you wanted to tell him how you felt, the actor got together with someone else. To have him gush about his girlfriends or crushes, pained your heart. It was always hard putting up a fake smile or pretending to be thrilled and excited for him while all you wanted to do was kiss him and show him that you were the one worthy of his love and affection.

 But that was unfortunately a dream that hadn’t come true, yet.

  “Let’s get comfortable” you mumbled to yourself while shaking your head, not wanting to dive into the memories of Chris gushing about the women he was in love and attracted to. He just had gotten out of a relationship, and still was mourning it a little. It was mean to admit that you were glad that him and his now ex didn’t work out as they were just too different from one another. The relationship was dysfunctional from the get go, but Chris didn’t want to let go due to the fact that his attraction just kept growing, despite the obvious red flags being present at every moment he spent with his ex-girlfriend.

 A soft sigh left your lips while you removed your jacket and dropped it on the couch, tiptoeing your way to Chris’s bedroom and ready to give him a good scare before trying to convince him to the movie evening you had planned ahead.

 Dodger was hot on your tail when you arrived at the actor’s bedroom, the door being wide open and seeing him sitting at the edge of the bed while facing the window, his back turned to you.

 “It’s just that, ugh” a frustrated sigh left his lips while his shoulders tensed up. Your stomach churned in discomfort as you had to stop yourself from rushing over to your crush and give him a soothing shoulder massage. He held his phone to his ear while running a hand through his hair, clearing his throat before continuing.

 “[Y/N] just has been so clingy lately and I don’t know how to tell her to cool it down. Like she’s always been this way since I met her but I really feel like she’s suffocating me…”

 Crack.

 That was the sound of your heart breaking in your chest, crumbling into tiny pieces while the soft smile that had been resting on your face slowly turned into upside down. Tears immediately filled your eyes and made your vision blurry while you tried to understand why Chris had said that about you.

 He let out another sigh, still not knowing about your presence before continuing to vent into his phone.

 “I think she needs to find herself a boyfriend, someone who would actually appreciate and enjoy her clinginess because I’m read to snap at her and tell her to leave me alone. I need space from her, bro”.

 You hadn’t realized that the tears already had cascaded down your cheeks while you cleared your throat and watched Chris jump and turn around, gasping before ending the call without a further word.

 He quickly got up and walked over to you, regret instantly washing over his face while he stared at yours that was drenched with salty tears. “[Y/N]…” was all he was able to whisper, feeling so bad that you had to hear him talk all this shit about you, and still being fucking oblivious to the reason why you were clingier than usual.

 “Save it” is all you croaked out, realizing that Chris didn’t deserve to know the truth about your feelings for him. He didn’t appreciate you as a friend so why the hell would he want you as his girlfriend? It was clear that the two of you weren’t bound to last as a couple, so with that sad realization, you turned around and rushed to the living room.

 “[Y/N], please wait!” Chris called out behind you but you shook your head and quickly got your jacket from the couch and then made your way to the front door, your heart aching heavily in your chest and your day ruined. You didn’t bother to look back at the actor while opening the door and leaving his apartment with a broken heart.

  ~~

  “She looks happy…” Chris muttered while staring at the recent picture you had posted on Instagram. It was of you and your boyfriend, Owen. The two of you had been dating for nine months and he was the best thing that had happened to you.

 The bright smile on your face could make the sun jealous for beaming so beautifully. You hadn’t bothered to add a caption to the picture of you and your love, you just had wanted to share your happiness with the world. And the world appreciated it deeply, only poor Chris was in his feelings.

 It had been a year since you had caught him talking trash about you and walk out of his apartment. He called you countless of times and left you many messages to which you never responded. He was confused to why you didn’t give him a chance to explain himself, the stupid bastard still couldn’t put two and two together and realize why his words had affected you so much.

 It was Scott who had to break the news to him and then watch in disappointment how Chris just sat there, confused as hell and in denial of what just had been told him. It actually took his a few days to swallow the huge pill and finally understand your behavior throughout your friendship.

 That only added more to the guilt he already was drowning in, but it increased his determination in reconciling with you and making sure that your feelings were being acknowledged.

 But things never went his way as you had cut him off and moved on, not wanting to ever be friends with the actor again. The pain he had inflicted to your heart had almost been impossible to get over, but you eventually did. And then you met your now boyfriend and his love and affection made you forget about the heartbreak.

 “Chris, just accept the fact that it’s over. You gotta let her go, man” Scott spoke while watching his brother frown down at the picture of you. He softly shook his head before taking a quick sip of his beer, tuning out the people and music at the bar they were currently at.

 “But I want her to know that I’m sorry” the actor sighed and closed his browser app, then quickly tapped on the messaging app and on your contact.

 “I’m sure she knows, but wasn’t in the right mindset to let you explain yourself” Scott said, feeling bad for his brother but fully understanding your point of view as he had been through the same thing with his ex-friend and crush.

 “Let her go, bro” he repeated himself to which Chris closed his eyes for a few seconds and slowly nodded his head. It pained his heart to know that you never wanted to talk to him again, but knew that you had every right to feel the way you did.

 So, with a heavy sigh, he started typing away while softly biting down onto his lower lip.

 I just want you to know that it was never my intention to hurt you. I hope he loves you with his whole heart and soul because you deserve nothing but the best. If you ever need me, I’ll be here waiting for you, if not, then know that I’ll always love and appreciate you, [Y/N].

 Read at 6:3 p.m.

 Chris locked his phone and felt himself close to tears as you had read his message, but again didn’t bother to answer. This wasn’t the closure he had hoped for, but knew that it wasn’t worth dwelling on as he already was a forgotten character in your life, but you not in his.

Tag list: @jamesbarnesappreciationclub  l @pleasantdreamqueen l @disneymarina l @koizorahana l l @harleycativy l @itik-angsa l @sparklemichele l @melaninmarvel l @amethyst09 l @the-force-of-imagines l @bossyboyd03 l @enigmaticaphrodite l @pebblesz892 l @stars8melanin l @brittyevans l @toc1985 l @janeyboo l @badassbaker l @earthtocynthia l @lafayettes-baguettes-1 l @winters-beauty l @cannonindeez  l @ilovefanfic86 l @foureyedsiopao l @adorablespecialsnowflakes l @brittanyovens l @kanupps06 l @jazmynejack l @oliviajmarvel l @thebookwormslytherin l @theunsweetenedtruth l @talannalew l @littlexmissxfandomxlover l @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes l @dedebebe13 l @challaxkillmonger l @crimsonash330 l @booklover2929 l @aranelgrey l @panda-duuu l @thisismysecrethappyplace l @killmonsgyal l @lokislilcaribbeanprincess l @titty-teetee l @honey-anon l @queenxchallaxkillamonger l @princess-evans-addict l @hp-hogwartsexpress l @malindacath l @supernaturaltrashy l @letsdisneythings l @scorpionchild81 l @shado-raven l @alisoncdariel l @plutoneu

-Emmanuelle 💋❤️

[nekomaskittykat]

Silence

Ugh.

You couldn't help but let out a heavy sigh as your brain strained once again for an idea in which to write about. It was as if the universe was against you and was purposely diminishing any and all traces of ideas from your poor little brain. 

“Oh my goshhh” you vented as you gripped your hair in frustration slamming your laptop close so you could lean back in your chair, your eyes landing on the ceiling fan as it slowly rotated, peacefully so. Even without looking you could feel the crimson eyes boring into the tip of your head and though your mind told you to ignore it, you decided to address the elephant in the room. 

“What” you said as you spun in your chair so that your eyes were now making contact with those of the spikey blond lounging on your shared bed. Even though you had been the one who demanded peace and quiet while you miserably failed to think of ideas, you didn't like the silence nor the fact that Bakugou had actually decided to listen. As if to capitalize on this he simply smirked yet remained silent and unmoving as before. 

“You staring at me is as much distracting as you talking you know” you commented, yet again he said nothing simply smirking at your growing frustration. Everyone knew Bakugou was not one who could remain silent for long, it was like asking a fish to not swim, it just didn't happen, so the fact that he was here doing just that was a bit off-putting to say the least. 

“Bakugouuu” You whined as your frustration began to grow further, this caused the man in question to smirk harder, yet again he remained silent. Finally fed up you scooted your desk chair back and rose from it as you began making your way to your bed. You stopped right at the end in which Bakugou was lounging and crossing your arms you asked him once again what had his attention so fixated. 

“Nothing Babe,” he said as he laid back even further on the bed, “ you're the one who said you wanted silence. Thought Id give it to ya.” You couldn't help the groan that rumbled in your throat, he had a point.. it was your words.

“So, you cant just sit here and be silent” you said with disbelief

“It was your shitty Idea in the first place” even with the harshness of his tone he was still smirking up at you, clearly finding amusement in this little game of the silent treatment. 

“you're not ganna say anything” you said again though this time mainly to yourself as you looked at him once again only to see him smirking like before,” Okay” was all you said as you climbed over him Straddling him as he lounged only this time you were smirking as well.

“no words” You reminded as you dove down and began planting kissing along his collar bone, stopping at certain spot to suck lightly. You could hear his breathing as it began to grow heavier yet he remained silent like he had declared earlier leaving you to continue with your ministrations. Your hands were quick to dive beneath his shirt as you began to feel your way up his abs whilst still assaulting his neck. Your mouth moved up to his ear as you lightly bit the shell of it. 

“Still not ganna talk” You whispered before leaning up to look at him. He was no longer smirking instead his mouth was slightly parted whilst his breathing was a bit uneven. His face had a bit of a reddish tint and you couldn't help but giggle slightly at him. Maybe it was because you laughed at him but he let out a small growl as he gazed at you and you couldn't help but smirk again. 

“You know technically that counts as a noise...” you smiled down at him before you kissed the tip of his nose and climbed off him. “welp since you're ignoring me Im ganna go ahead and try to write again I guess” You laughed to yourself as you began heading back to your desk, but the feeling on a hard tugging you back kept you situated. 

“Need Something” You said gazing down at Bakugou, “I don’t really do the whole mind reading thing” You smirked, but it was short-lived as you were once again yanked down onto the bed only this time you were on your back and Bakugou was Hovering over you. “So?” you said up to him, but you were quickly answered with his Lips crashing into yours. 

@lady-bakuhoe So like I LOVE your writing and I love writing as well and so I was like hey I should try to write something and like Tag you in it and So like I did LMAOLMAOLMAOLMAO i just wanted you to read it Lmao lmaO im like nervous hah cause this is like my first drabble i guess idkk I just love you and your writing and so I wanted to try maybe ill try to write more when im done crying Lmaoooooooo Meow - because saying meow at the end somehow makes me feel better ughhhhhhg

[sincerelyreidburke]

i know this is quinnamon roll's theatre time here rn, but how does he get on with the other cricket children rhododendron and rat boy? was Nando nervous to introduce them? what do rhododendron and ratatouille think of quinnjamin?? (idk why i cant just use their names tbh sorry)

My friend, forgive me! This response to your ask has been slightly delayed. But now is a good time to reiterate that, as a PSA, if you send me an ask, I will answer it— even if that doesn’t happen right away. The way I sort through my inbox isn’t exactly arbitrary, because I do try to go from oldest to newest, but sometimes I’ll get several asks about the same concept or character, and I’ll decide I want to space them out a little.

Anyway. That was just an aside. This ask covers a generally broad cricket topic, so let’s start out the week on a wholesome note.

(This came in during a Quinn Theatre Hours session, which is context for the qualifying sentence. And feel free to ask me anything about the crickets!)

First of all, I seriously appreciate your inability to use their actual names. It’s a big mood. I’m sort of getting ahead of myself on the answer to your question here, but Rhodey does exactly what you did in your ask with Quinn all the time. As in, he can’t call him Quinn. He’s Q, or Quinnothy, or Quinnjamin, or His Royal Highness Sir Quinnington III, et cetera. Mostly, he’s just Q. But Rhodey is a goofball, and he gives him random not-names constantly.

Anyway, let’s backtrack a little, because there’s a thorough answer in store for your question.

Before he and Quinn actually become official, Nando has talked about Quinn to Rhodey and Touille. This starts early, probably on the night they meet at that Halloween party. He probably doesn’t say much right away, just that he was talking to a guy and he had a good night.

Touille doesn’t really latch onto this, because he’s not attentive when it comes to relationships. Rhodey, wingman of the century, absolutely does. Dude, when are you seeing that guy again? Did you find him on Instagram? You should ask Ford about him. What, are you gonna let a prime opportunity slip through your hands like this!???! N A N N Y. Bro. You gotta try to see him again. You guys talked for like three entire hours.

The reason Rhodey is adamant about this is: although I would absolutely not say that Nando let his failing relationship with N*te ruin his first two or so months at Samwell, he definitely let it affect him emotionally at least a little. I mean, how could he not? He was genuinely invested in making that work as an LDR, and N*te so obviously was not, so Nando was the one trying to keep the entire operation from collapsing. I don’t know why I’m making a relationship sound like a government strategy, but anyway. The point is. The only impression Rhodey has of Nando’s love live up to the point he meets Quinn is that Nando got treated like shit (and then cheated on) by his ex.

Rhodey, as his best friend, obviously thinks this sucks majorly and wants the best for Nando. So when a boy walks into Nando’s life whom Nando is obviously sweet on, Rhodey thinks he should seize the opportunity.

Anyway, that’s why Rhodey knows right away that he wants to set Quinn up with Nando for Winter Screw. And when Screw goes well, he considers it a huge win for his judgement and his best friend’s well-being.

So Nando and Quinn court. It’s soft. It’s schmoopy. They take, like, two weeks to actually become official because they’re both so useless and gay that each of them is waiting for the other to drop the will you be my boyfriend question. Finally, Quinn gets tired of ambiguity, and he just asks. Then they’re dating. And all is well.

The first time Quinn meets Rhodey and Touille is before they’re dating, but not long before that at all. Nando has talked about his friends, and he and Quinn are starting to make a habit of meeting up for some meals, so one day for lunch, he texts Quinn to come and meet him with his other freshman hockey friends.

Quinn is nervous, but Nando is more nervous. The reason Quinn is nervous is that he’s still sort of wary of jocks. Let it be known that Quinn has no deep-seeded jock trauma; he’s just a theatre kid, and the Samwell drama club in particular has reservations about the school’s athletes. Quinn is an incredibly confident person, and he’s not ashamed of himself or the things he loves to do or the way he is in the slightest. But he likes Sebastián, a whole lot, and he wants to be his boyfriend, and he knows how important his team friends are to him— so Quinn desperately wants his friends to like him. The thought of them disliking him or judging him makes him a little nervous.

(Quinn is literally that John Mulaney bit where he’s like “I need everyone to like me so much, all of the time!!!!!!!”)

Nando is more nervous, though, like I said. And the reasons are relatively similar. He wants Rhodey and Touille to get along with Quinn. Like Quinn, he is experiencing feelings of wanting to be his boyfriend. His best friends from back home did not get along with N*te, and it was a recipe for discomfort. Rhodey and Touille not liking Quinn wouldn’t be a dealbreaker for him, but it would leave him in an awkward situation, and he knows that.

He just feels so soft on him, and he wants his friends to understand how much he likes him, and how great he is.

Okay, so finally! We’ve reached the point of the post. Quinn comes to lunch. He introduces himself to them in his funny little formal way and sits down, and for the briefest, most terrifying second, Quinn realizes he brought nothing prepared for them to talk about.

And then Rhodey, because he is Rhodey, breaks the ice, and everything is uphill from there.

Rhodey gets along with people easily, and so does Nando. Touille may be a little more introverted, but he feeds off of their energy, and it makes their trio socially effective. So the conversation over lunch is animated and enjoyable, because the three crickets already work so well on their own, and they welcome Quinn right into the fold perfectly.

Once Rhodey and Touille learn they’re actually, officially dating, they’re well pleased. Because they like Quinn.

Now. In general? I want to talk a little about Rhodey and Quinn’s dynamic, because it’s priceless. They get along very well, to the point where Rhodey has a genuine friendship with Quinn that exists outside of Nando. Oh, sure, it’s based in the fact that Nando is dating Quinn, but the two of them just get along. They team up to organize for Nando’s birthday, bond over queer culture stuff (Rhodey and Quinn force Nando to watch Drag Race and it’s the best), share music recommendations, and just generally vibe. When Rhodey starts his secret undercover drag queen thing, Quinn is his costumer and also his makeup artist. Because apparently that’s a thing.

Alsooooooo Rhodey has emotional venting hours to Quinn when he’s being Angsty about a certain dumb Canadian rat boy.

Also, Rhodey is the king of chirping. He does a hilarious Quinn impression over team breakfast when Nando is being roasted for being a simp, and he does the refusal to call him by his actual name thing that we discussed above.

The four of them hang out all the time. I’ve mentioned briefly that Quinn is to the crickets as Farmer is to the frogs, and that’s absolutely true. The three crickets hang out on their own plenty, of course, but when Quinn tags along, there’s nothing awkward about it. Like, Rhodey and Touille aren’t the kind of friends who are like ugh, he always brings the person he’s dating around. Because the person Nando is dating is also their friend.

They do go clubbing together. I’m not even sorry about it. They’ll all cram themselves into Quinn’s tiny room and pregame while they get ready. “Why don’t they use Rhodey and Nando’s room, Mel?” Because the clubbing doesn’t start until their sophomore year, when Rhodey and Nando both live in the Haus in separate rooms, and they’re avoiding Captain Whiskey trying to be discreet.

The point is: Rhodey and Touille love Quinn, and he loves them right back. There’s no room for friends-clashing-with-boyfriend angst in Nando’s story.

Also, this is very much a found-family thing for Quinn, because his sister is the only actual family he has, and she’s far away. In Nando, and by extension in his friends, Quinn finds a home.

Thank you for the ask! :D

[unbealevable]

SNOW DAY ➝ ROOMIES.

TAGGING ➝ Fat Amy, Chloe Beale, Beca Mitchell.

LOCATION ➝ Beca, Chloe and Amy’s apartment.

TIME FRAME ➝ 2/3, early afternoon.

WARNINGS ➝ None.

NOTES ➝ Roommate snow day.

CHLOE

​Taking the weather into consideration, Chloe probably should not have even made the journey to her internship today. There would’ve been no repercussions for her if she hadn’t—hardly anyone else bothered to show up, after all—but always eager to please, she’d gone ahead and made the effort regardless. It really did not surprise her that they’d decided to close up shop early, though. The snow, already a thick blanket on the ground, really was coming down, so the sooner she made it back to the apartment, the better.

Following a quick stop at Rocco’s to pick up the order Beca had called in (she’d been on her way there already; she knew Beca), Chloe trudged through the heavy snowfall and to their building, unceremoniously shaking herself off like a particularly wet dog the moment she made it to shelter. Taking Beca’s ‘be quite’ order very seriously, she switched from walking to tiptoeing once she reached their door, letting herself into the apartment as quietly as possible, though greeted Beca with a bright smile, before pretending to zip her mouth shut.

Their bag of food rustled loudly as she set it down on the counter, with Chloe flashing Beca an apologetic look over her shoulder, before shrugging off her jacket to reveal her cartoon animal printed scrubs, fortunately dry of snow. Not wanting to disturb Beca’s work call, Chloe hovered in the kitchen area, glancing somewhat helplessly between Beca and the bag of food until she caught Beca’s eye. ‘What do I do?’ she mouthed.

BECA

As much as Beca’s job had been sucking balls lately, she was beyond grateful her boss was cool with her working from home when it snowed. Beca never really did well in extreme temperatures in general–she bitched about the sticky southern heat throughout college, and NYC summers were just as bad if not worse, thanks to the city stench. Winters were a different animal altogether. So on mornings like today, she slept an extra 45 minutes, shuffled to the coffee maker, and “dressed” for the day.

Which meant that when Chloe returned home, she’d find Beca with her hair and makeup done, wearing a nice button-down shirt and a blazer… with checkered pajama pants and fuzzy socks. (Chloe’s fuzzy socks. Whatever, her feet were cold and they just happened to be nearby.) Headphones secured over her ears, she sat Indian-style at the foot of their bed with her laptop propped onto a foldable tray at the appropriate height, eyes flickering toward the door on instinct when Chloe shuffled inside.

Ugh, Rocco’s smelled so freaking good. Beca’s stomach rumbled. At Chloe’s shrug, Beca held up a quick ‘one second’ pointer finger offscreen, flashing a pained sort of smile at her laptop screen. “Yep, got it! I’m with you, Sharon. We’re tooootally gonna crush it with this one. I’ll send the suggested changes to you by end-of-day Friday.” With a nerdy two-finger salute, Beca signed off and closed her laptop, setting her headphones on top. Then she very ungracefully groaned as she flopped backwards onto their still unmade bed, dramatically throwing her forearm over her eyes. “I seriously can’t stand that bitch.”

CHLOE

Thankful that Beca’s work call seemed to be wrapping up, Chloe’s almost-panic dissipated quickly, until she was leaning back against the kitchen counter with a quick nod. She pulled her lips inward to keep herself from openly giggling at Beca’s dorky salute toward her laptop, then pushed herself upright again as the call came to an end. “But you saluted her,” she teased, quickly grabbing a couple plates, then the bag of food to bring it over to their unmade bed. “What’d she do?” she hummed, kicking off her snow-covered shoes—she’d do something with them later; right now she wanted food.

Scooting around the heap that was a flopped back Beca as she climbed onto their bed, Chloe shuffled to a comfortable position, legs crossing the same way as Beca’s as she set down their lunch things. “You know Rocco’s is going to make you feel so much better. Even if you do look super grumpy right now.” Her nose wrinkled as she studied Beca’s body language, though she quickly offered over a plate, then got to work on digging into the bag to pull out their respective meals. “I guess at least you didn’t have to walk through the snow today, right?”

AMY

Looking out the window of the apartment she woke up in, Amy realized sleeping over at - wait, what’s his name again? - place might have been the wrong decision. She looked out over an outstretched white blanket and dreaded the journey home already. She briefly wondered if her roommates would be staying home today.

Walking already was not Amy’s favorite activity. Walking is snow is even worse. After what’s his face jumped in the shower, she made quick work of getting dressed and got out of the apartment before he was even done. The ground was slippery but Amy tried to hurry and get home as soon as possible. Luckily, the trip back to Brooklyn went smoothly and as she walked into the Starbucks around the corner of their apartment building, she shot a quick text to the roommates groupchat asking is they’re home.

Happy to have made it back to the apartment building in one piece, Amy climbed the stairs huffing and puffing while holding a tray with 3 cups of steaming hot coffee and a bag of pastries. She opens the apartment door and finds Beca and Chloe chatting in the apartment. „what’s up, pitches!” She quickly closes the door behind her to keep out the cold, kicks of her shoes and hands them their coffee. „As always Butter Pecan for you, Red. And BM, coffee black, like your soul.”

BECA

"She's just..." Beca puffed out a hard breath. "She either dismisses my ideas entirely, or when she likes what I've got to offer she tries to pass it off as her own idea to the execs. She keeps putting me on these shitty projects that are almost impossible to make better. I mean I love a challenge, but..." She winced, shaking her head. No need to get into 'Lil' Pimp Lo'. Especially on her lunch break.

She forced herself to sit up when Chloe joined her, smiling as the scent of her favorite lunch wafted toward her like a goddamn cartoon pie in a window sill. "Yeah, thanks for picking it up. And you're right, at least I didn't have to deal with a horrific commute today. How was your morning? Meet any new furry friends?" 

 After inhaling her nacho platter, Beca insisted on cleaning up the bags and washing the dishes. She made a move to stand when Amy burst inside. "Dude, is that coffee? You're a mind reader." That was... sort of like a greeting, Beca. Close enough. "Where've you been, Ames? Should I even bother asking?" Beca cast a knowing smirk at Chloe before making her way into the kitchen, setting her coffee on the counter while she got to work cleaning off their lunch plates.

CHLOE

Chloe's nose wrinkled as she listened to Beca's complaints. It wasn't a new thing, Beca seeming unhappy where her job was concerned, but it also wasn't Chloe place to comment, so she simply nodded along and let her vent. "She tries to take your ideas because you're so good at what you do," Chloe pointed out, offering up an encouraging smile, though it twisted into something a little more mischievous then, "Maybe we should prank call her." Her brows rose and fell playfully.

Pleased that lunch seemed to be something of a pick-me-up, Chloe nodded her head in acknowledgment, plating up her own food. "Mm, not really," she shrugged, reaching over to steal a nacho. "It's weird, those little things people bring their pets in for always somehow manage to be resolved at home when the weather's like this. Funny how that works!"

Although she liked to help out, Chloe wasn't going to argue, so while Beca took care of cleaning up afterwards, Chloe quickly changed out of her scrubs and into something more comfortable. She was mid-pulling her sweater on when the door opened, with her glancing over to flash Amy a bright smile. "Coffee," she said in an almost dreamy tone, instantly floating over to accept the cup. "Did you know you're an angel?" Chloe winked, pulling the warm drink close to her chest as she tugged her hair from beneath her sweater with her free hand. While she shot Beca the same knowing look, Chloe stayed quiet, eyeing Amy in anticipation of a likely wild response.

AMY

“Well...” she started while considering wether to give her roommates the full story or not. “Yesterday I was performing Fat Amy Winehouse at Times Square. This guy kept coming back like every hour and at first I thought it was really annoying. He didn’t say anything. Just stood there, watching.” She paused briefly to take a sip of coffee and open the bag of pastries.

She took a bite of a cinnamon bun and continued: “after seeing him for the third time I decided to talk to him. I mean, he was a hot piece and I was surprised to hear he had an Australian accent as well. Anyway, long story short; he asked me out, I didn’t have anything better to do so here we are... ” she shrugged.

Amy decides to keep the story at that and to not tell her roommates about the feeling she’s had the entire time, that the guy looked oddly familiar. It didn’t matter anymore anyway. She was home now and honestly didn’t even remember the dudes name.

“What have you guys been up too? Taking a snow day or working from home?” She looked between her two roommates and noticed Beca had obviously been working.

“You know, if you want... I could work from home too. Let me just get out my...”

BECA

Beca listened to Amy's latest adventure while she focused on washing the few dishes they'd used for lunch, all while keeping her eyes trained on the sink and definitely not on Chloe changing her clothes behind her. "Sounds like you've got yourself a groupie," she teased, setting the dishes in the drying rack and plucking the dish towel to dry off her hands. "I'm working from home, Chloe left early." Beca snagged the coffee back from the counter and curled back up on her spot in bed. "Maybe I'll take the rest of the day off. No meetings this afternoon so it doesn't matter much." She wasn't on any active tight deadlines and it wasn't like she'd get much accomplished with both Chloe and Amy home anyway.

CHLOE

Amy's adventures always provided a lot of entertainment, so Chloe sipped happily on her coffee as she listened to her regail them of her latest one. "So you stayed at his place?" Chloe questioned, brows rising and falling suggestively. "Is he cute?" Still only half-changed, she set her coffee cup down on the nearest available space—a difficult find in their cramped shoebox apartment—then got to work on tugging off her scrub pants without regard for her roommates. Surely they were used to her by now.

"Bec, you totes should take the rest of the day off," Chloe nodded enthusiastically. "Especially if Amy's gonna sing for us." She flashed a bright grin toward Amy, plucking a pair of black leggings from their not-quite-closet, before pausing with something of a gasp. "Oh, wait! Guess who I ran into this morning." Without giving either a chance to actually guess, she continued with raised brows, one foot in the leggings. "Aubrey. She's living in the city, too."

AMY

"Yeah shortstack, take the day off. We should hang out!" Amy said while standing up to go change her clothes.

On her way to her side of the room, Amy heard Chloe mention running into Aubrey. She turned on the spot and returned back to her previous position on the kitchen chair and picked her coffee back up to listen to Chloe’s story of her encounter with Aubrey.

"Wait, are you saying that you didn’t know Aubrey lived in the city too? How is that even possible? Isn’t she your best friend?”

BECA

Beca sighed. "Fine, why not?" It wasn't like she'd be able to concentrate much with one roommate home, let alone both. Besides, she rarely used her sick time and was long overdue for some time off.

Noting Amy pointedly avoided Chloe's question about the guy--she figured she probably didn't want to talk about him, which was cool--her gaze snapped back to Chloe. "Oh, for real? Yeah, that's... super weird. I guess she's been really busy to not drop you a text at least, huh?"

CHLOE

It hadn't passed Chloe by that it was incredibly weird that Aubrey hadn't stayed in touch—maybe she should've tried a little harder herself or something—so she wrinkled her nose in response to both of her roommates. "Yeah, I don't know. She seems to be doing super well, though," she offered, pushing a bright smile to her lips to replace the sadder one that really wanted to be there.

Wanting to change the topic from what a bad friend she must've been, Chloe retrieved her coffee cup again, bouncing toward she and Beca's bed and gracefully plopping down. "So what should we do? We're never all home during the day like this."

[hookaroo]

Vocivore, Ltd. (14 of ?)

A OUAT WINTER WHUMP FIC

Also on FFN and AO3 (ack I need to update there!) (ListerofTardis)

Tagging @ouatwinterwhump, @killian-whump, @cocohook38, @killianjonesownsmyheart1, and @courtorderedcake <3

***THE MOST WONDERFUL COVER ART BY COCOHOOK38 HERE!!!!!******

****NEW!!!!!!!!!!!! Chapter 12 animation and art that will absolutely astound you!!! THANK YOU MY WONDERFUL COCONUT FRIEND!!!!!!!!!!*************

Present (Wednesday, continued)…   

Storybrooke General is a far cry from the UW Medical Center. Quieter, even with the current sudden influx of patients into its modest Emergency Department. Smaller; that’s a given. About 15 fewer floors, no view of Husky Stadium or its cluster of 30-plus trumpeters having sectional rehearsal in the upper deck.

Lower tech, too. Jones glanced idly at the folder containing scrawled notes on actual paper, thinking of the computerized system in Seattle that probably still contained “Rogers’’’ record detailing his overnight stay for an indeterminate heart issue that seemed to resolve itself, to the bafflement of his caregivers.

Yet the most crucial difference could not be credited to either facility. And even as he thought of it, proof reached his attentive ears.

“Papa?”

The word floated above the general hubbub of questions and reassurances, pained moans, and beeps and hums of machinery. But he recognized the voice easily, even in his slightly drugged state.

“Alice?”

There came the sound of metal on metal somewhere nearby, and then a surprised,

“Oh. Sorry, sorry--wrong curtain.”

With a fond smile that was somewhat lopsided by the swelling in his cheek, Jones called,

“Over here, love.”

A few seconds later, the curtain to his own little alcove fluttered tentatively, then billowed open as Alice ducked inside. She took in his condition with apprehensive eyes, inching closer, obviously restraining the urge to throw herself into his arms.

“Sheriff Emma called and said you were hurt, and I… well, I thought…”

He held out his hand and relaxed into as placid an expression as he could muster. Alice came closer and grasped it, but he could see she feared hurting him.

“I’m okay, Starfish. Just a bit sore.”

“But you’re bleeding; maybe… shall I fetch a nurse, or…?”

Jones tightened his grip, ignoring the spikes of pain from lacerated skin above shifting muscles. Emma's assessment of the stab wound in his chest had been correct: the sword point had cracked his sternum, which was the source of the most severe pain, but required little more than rest and pain medication as treatment. After imaging to rule out deeper injury, the chest laceration had been repaired; the more minor of his cuts, however, had only been temporarily covered and still needed stitching. Ruefully, he pointed out,

“So are three quarters of the other patients in here right now. I can wait.”

Alice looked like she wanted to protest, but he gave a decisive nod and pulled her closer. As she moved, the fingers of her free hand splayed of their own accord. When nothing happened, she vented a tiny groan of frustration.

“Ugh, I hate not being able to help you!”

“You are helping, just by being here.” He thought once again of that lonely night in Seattle, of freshly restored memories drowned out by crippling pain in his chest, with no one there to bolster his spirits, to give him hope for any sort of future happiness. On impulse, and despite protesting muscles and painful friction on half-clotted gouges in his skin, he pulled her into a tight hug. “I will never take this for granted. Not ever.”

“So you keep saying,” she teased, but her answering embrace was just as fierce.

“I do?”

“Oh yeah. Only every time we do this?”

“Well then it must be true.” Jones allowed her to gingerly extricate herself, then he settled back with a wince. Alice perched lightly on the edge of the bed, gracing him with a watery smile.

“I, uh, heard that the other you is in pretty rough shape.” She fidgeted with the coarse cotton blanket, her eyes sad. “Is it true, then? He was slave to that… killer-monster that took Hope?”

“Aye, he was.” Jones sighed, but strove to exude confidence. “But he’s safe now; Emma won’t allow him to fall back into the killer’s clutches.”

“But…” She trailed off, though her unspoken words were not difficult to guess at. Despite Dr. Whale’s best efforts, there had yet to be a single survivor of the neurological side effects of enslavement.

“He’ll be all right,” he said firmly. In a lighter tone, he added, “We’re made of strong stuff, he and I. All tempered steel and elegance. Though we both know which of us is the handsome one.”

Alice giggled at his attempts to show off his good looks, which were more than slightly marred at present by the blood and bruised swelling all down one side.

“‘Course; no contest there.” She squeezed his hand, reveling it its warmth, its size and strength. The way he could make her feel safe even with so simple a touch. Sensing her thoughts, Jones stroked his thumb along her fingers.

“Why don’t you tell me how the preparations are coming?” he suggested. “I could do with a bit of good news at the moment.”

Just as Alice had drawn a preparatory breath, about to embark upon an enthusiastic update, a scrub-clad man ducked into the alcove, carrying a draped tray.

“Mr. Jones?” After confirmation, he continued, “Kermit here. We’re catching up out there and should be able to get you taken care of very soon.” He set his burden down on a stand and glanced at Jones’ wrists, encircling his own with finger and thumb in demonstration of what he sought.

“Ankle?” he guessed, and Jones nodded.

“The right one.”

Kermit quickly confirmed his identity via the ID band around his ankle, then announced,

“I’m just here to numb you up a little; someone else will do the actual suturing.”

“Can I stay with my papa?” asked Alice. “I promise I won’t get in the way.”

Scrubbing his hands with sanitizer before donning gloves, Kermit shrugged. “As long as your papa doesn’t mind.”

Alice turned an anxious gaze on Jones, who smiled.

“Of course you can stay, Starfish. In fact, I’d prefer it if you did.”

“I will need you to go around to the other side, though,” Kermit told her.

“Alice,” she supplied, though he hadn’t asked. “I’m Alice.”

Her introduction made, she reluctantly let go of Jones’ hand and skirted the bed. Kermit was increasing the height to give himself better access, at the same time lowering its head.

“I’ll be performing a nerve block in this arm and probably the other one, too. Basically, what that involves is putting a small amount of anesthetic into a cluster of nerves in your upper arm, here.” He tapped a spot on his own bicep in demonstration. “And that deadens sensation all the way down the forearm and into the hand. It reduces the amount of anesthetic needed for larger injuries like this.”

By this time, the bed was at its highest position. Checking to be sure she wouldn't be hurting him, Alice slid her arms around her father’s upper arm in a possessive hug, stooping to rest her head on his shoulder. Kermit lay a drape on the bed near Jones’ right ear.

“I’m going to have you raise your arm up, just like… this… hand above your head… perfect.”

Jones now had his arm resting on the drape, his shoulder at an angle greater than 90 degrees, his elbow bent, and hand up near the headboard. As Kermit disinfected the underside of his patient’s upper arm, he launched into a more thorough description of the procedure, along with risks and alternatives. Jones indicated his understanding and didn’t have any questions, so Kermit said,

“Okay, great. I’ll go ahead and numb the skin here so you won’t feel the bigger needle. Feel free to talk amongst yourselves.”

Jones turned his gaze upon Alice, who had lifted her head and was watching with a half-fascinated, half-apprehensive expression. He gave her a reassuring smile and gentle reminder.

“I believe you were about to tell me of Captain’s Smee’s Kiddie Cruise.”

Alice beamed at him. “We should call it that! I’ll have to remember that one.”

It had been her idea, after the gut-wrenching news of Hope’s disappearance. Get the rest of the vulnerables out of harm’s way, she thought, but in the least scary manner she could devise. Which turned out to be a sailing excursion on the Jolly Roger. Smee’s Jolly Roger, not the one currently berthed in Storybrooke Harbor. Although, with the rousing success of the first endeavor, the identical ship was now involved in plans for a similar voyage.

They had taken everyone down the coast, beyond the borders of the United Realms, along the shores of the Land Without Magic and, presumably, out of reach of the monster. Such a project had required a lot of careful planning, but had gone off without a hitch, and they were only back for a day or two while they restocked and recruited more families with young children.

Listening to his daughter chatter took Jones’ mind off of the mild discomfort of the procedure, the more moderate breakthrough pain of his injuries, and his fear for everyone he held dear. He felt a swell of pride as Alice recounted detailed preparations that would please even the most straight-laced captains. Of which category Smee was definitely not a part.

“That’s it,” announced Kermit some time later, smoothing a Band-Aid over the puncture and completely throwing off Alice’s train of thought. “Not so bad, right?”

“No.” Jones wiggled his fingers slightly, feeling a definite muting of sensation all along the torn flesh. “And worth it, without question.”

“Glad to hear that,” replied Kermit. “Cuz we get to do it all again on the other side!”

*****

It took almost two hours to thoroughly clean and repair Jones’ wounds, and by the time that was complete, Alice had curled up in a chair nearby to doze. Apparently, her duties as event planner were taking their toll on her energy. Jones himself came close to that state on several occasions, but was always brought back to awareness by a word of instruction, a twinge in one of his wounds, or an announcement over the hospital intercom.

With the tightening of the final knot and the placement of the last bandage came the inevitable instruction to dress and make his way to the reception area for discharge. Which meant more waiting. And eventually, though Alice seemed content to sit and gossip the afternoon away, Jones encouraged her to head home and spend some alone time with Robin. After all, he was intimately acquainted with the lack of privacy aboard his beloved ship. He knew they hadn’t had the opportunity for much one-on-one interaction during the cruise.

Besides, Jones was not intending to head straight home once he was released. Too many questions remained. He needed to find out how David was faring, if Killian was all right, and what, if anything, he could do to help. It was time for a visit to the inpatient ward.

[tmarie82]

You’re So Punny

Pairing: Drake x MC (Emma Warner-Walker)

Book: The Royal Romance (Future)

Word Count: ~1,600

Rating:  PG (but beware of really bad jokes!)

Author’s Note:  Another ridiculously silly fic for Drake and Emma, incorporating @debramcg1106 ’s request for fic prompt #35 “shopping together” AND as a special birthday gift to @lazychic28 .  Apparently she has a thing for Drake’s punny jokes.  Please consider this your warning ... bad jokes ahead!

Please let me know if you would like to be added to my tag list.  You can find all of my fics here - MASTERLIST

~~~~~~~~~~

“Every time ... every time, Drake!”  Emma grunted fiercely, aggressively maneuvering one of the shopping carts from the long line of carts at the front of the store.  The child’s safety belt from the cart behind the one she had selected was hooked through the grates of hers, making it impossible to extract the large metal basket on wheels no matter how hard she pulled.  Emma gave it another forceful tug and a loud groan but was still unsuccessful.  

Drake gently placed his hand on her shoulder, meeting her eyes for a moment as they flitted to his upon contact.  He nodded quietly, murmuring a soft “Here let me help,” then proceeded to deftly fish the offending strap out from the metal grating to free both carts.  He looked back over to his wife, her knuckles white as she gripped the handle and eyes glossy with unshed tears.  She released a long sigh when he enclosed her in his arms, resting her forehead against his shoulder for a brief moment.  

“I’m sorry Drake, I know I shouldn’t let her get to me ... “ she leaned back to peer up into his eyes, wiping away the few rogue tears on her cheeks.  “I was just hoping that maybe this time would be different.  I mean we’re married now, we’ve made a wonderful life in Cordonia ... hell, we run a entire Duchy!”  She looked down at her hands, still gripping the handle.  “I just don’t know when it’s ever going to be good enough for her.  Every time I see her, it’s like I’m still this awkward teenager and she’s constantly nitpicking at me.”

“I think you’re doing great, Em.  You’ve held your tongue, put those diplomacy lessons to good use ...  Come on, let’s get what we need.”  Drake stroked her back and placed a chaste peck to the top of her head, then turned her shoulders to guide her and the cart into the bustling suburban New Jersey grocery store.  The couple was back in the United States to spend their first Thanksgiving as a married couple with Emma’s mother Cindy and stepfather in New Jersey.  Despite the fact that Emma hadn’t seen her mother since before she had left for Cordonia over two years ago, she was optimistic that her own good fortune and her mother’s happy fourth marriage would provide the perfect opportunity for a pleasant visit.  Unfortunately, less than 24 hours under the same roof and Emma was already feeling deflated and exhausted from the constant bickering with her mother.  

The pair sauntered into the produce section, Emma reading the list of the last-minute items they needed to prepare the Thanksgiving feast tomorrow.  “Okay, we need to get broccoli for the casserole and celery for the stuffing.”  She marched over to the greens, bagging the veggies as Drake studied the shelves where he waited.  He found a jar of one of his favorite treats and smiled, picking it up and hiding it behind his back when Emma returned.  “Okay, now we need to go to the bakery.”  She started pushing the cart but paused when Drake grasped her by the arm.

“Em, I hope you know how much you mean to me.  How much olive you.”  He gave her a goofy grin as he handed her a jar of pimento-stuffed green olives.  

Emma held the jar in front of her, her brow furrowed in confusion while she processed his statement.  And then she laughed ... well, more of a snort than a laugh, shaking her head and rolling her eyes as she handed him back the jar.  “You’re ridiculous, you know that, right?”

Drake shrugged, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards in a sly smirk.  “Hey, I just thought you should know.  But yeah, we’re getting these.”  He leaned over to place the jar delicately into the cart, pressing a quick kiss to Emma’s cheek as stood back up.  “Alright, bakery.  You lead the way, Boss.”

Emma inhaled the aroma of fresh-baked bread and sweet treats as they approached the bakery section, closing her eyes for a moment to savor the fragrance.  “My God, I love carbs.  And I plan to eat plenty of them while I’m here.”

“Good, ‘cuz I could always handle more of you to love.”  He picked up a package of golden hamburger buns, tossing them her way before smacking her rear playfully.  “You know I’m all about the buns, hon.”  He winked mischievously when Emma’s cheek flushed.  

“Wow, a baked goods Sir-Mix-Alot reference ... you really are pulling out the big puns!”  Emma flashed him a wide grin.

“Ooohhhh, nice one!”  Drake chuckled.  “Hey, it may be corny, but I made you smile.  So ... mission accomplished.”

Emma shook her head with amusement, placing the hamburger buns back in the larger pile before turning to examine the trays of dinner rolls beside them.  “What would Drake Walker circa two years ago say if you told him he’d be married and telling horrible jokes in a grocery store in New Jersey for Thanksgiving 2018?”

Drake shrugged again, stealing the cart from his wife and pushing it forward to turn down the next aisle.  “I don’t know.  Once you finally convinced the old Drake that it was really true, he would probably tell you that it sounded like future Drake ... was really happy.”  He glanced back over his shoulder at his wife trailing behind him, an affectionate smile tugging at the corners of his lips.  

“You really are such a marshmallow, Drake.”  Emma’s eyes sparkled as she grinned fondly at her husband, who paused in the middle of the aisle and bent down to pick up a bag off the lowest shelf.

“Well, now that you’re smiling again ... “ he started as he stood back up, “I should tell you that this marshmallow of yours thinks that maybe you need to have an honest conversation with your mother.”  He handed her a bag of jumbo puff marshmallows, hoping the fluffy sweet treat would help soften the blow of his statement.  He cocked his head to the side as he studied her grimace, taking the bag marshmallow begrudgingly.

“Ugh, Drake ...” she groaned, flipping the bag over in her hands and avoiding his stare.  “Ugh, I know you’re right ... I just don’t know how to make her listen.”

Drake reached his hand out to still her fidgeting and she finally looked back up to him.  “I think the first thing you’ve got to do is believe it yourself.  You’re not a teenager anymore, like you said ... you’re a grown woman now.  You have responsibilities, a husband ... you’ve made a life for yourself.  Talk to her like an adult and not like her kid.”

Emma blinked a few times while she processed Drake’s advice, a faint smile forming on her lips.  “I hate it when you’re right.”  She sighed deeply and shrugged her shoulders in defeat.  “Fine, I’ll talk to her before we leave ...”

“Em ...” Drake chided, grasping her by the waist and tilting her chin up to look directly at him.  “Please don’t make the rest of us sit through an extremely unpleasant Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow.  I think you need to talk to her soon.  Like, as in today ...”

Emma growled in annoyance, rolling her eyes as she mulled over his advice.  “But it wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without an awkward family fight.”  She chuckled at herself, but when she met Drake’s firm stare and solemn expression, her laughter faded and she nodded in agreement.  “Okay, I will.  I will talk to her when we get home.  But ... I need you to promise me something first.  Wait here!”  She raised an eyebrow mischieviously before she ran down the aisle, around the corner and out of sight.

Drake gave her a funny look as she scurried away but did as he was told, leaning against the cart and flipping through his phone as he waited patiently for his wife to return.  After a few moments, he heard the padding of footsteps behind him and turned to find Emma with her arms full of additional items.  The bag of jumbo puff marshmallows he had gifted her, along with a box of graham crackers and a large sleeve of milk chocolate bars.  S’more fixins.  He started to make a sarcastic comment before his wife abruptly cut him off.

“Okay, I will promise to have a serious conversation with my mother when we get home, but only if you promise to make these with me after and let me vent about it.  Deal?”

Drake grinned and nodded his head in agreement, bending down to press a sweet kiss to her lips while retrieving the groceries from her arms.  “Deal, Mrs. Walker.  I’m proud of you.”

“No, thank you Drake.  Thank you for making me laugh ... and for talking some reason into me.  I’m so lucky to have you in my life.”  She beamed up and him, a playful smirk teasing her lips.  “And I love you a little s’more every day.”

Drake laughed, rubbing his hand across his face as she grinned proudly at him.  “I guess I earned that, didn’t I?  Alright, I promise ... no more cheesy jokes!”

Emma scoffed, her mouth swiftly pursing into a tight pout.  “Cheesy?!?!  I thought that one was Gouda.”  Her scowl broke into a wide smile, eyes dancing with amusement before she turned abruptly to walk towards the checkout counter.  “Alright, let’s go.”

Drake watched his silly wife saunter down the aisle, deep laughter still rumbling in his chest.  Even at a crowded grocery store in suburban New Jersey, every day with Emma was a fantastic adventure.   He followed her towards the registers to help check her out.

He he ... check her out.  You’re so punny sometimes, Walker ... he chuckled to himself.

~~~~~~~~~~

Tagging: @simplyaiden-blog @mfackenthal @lizeboredom @walkerismychoice @boneandfur @laniquelovely @choices-fanatic @liam-rhys @the-everlasting-dream @client327 @kamybelen-blog @butindeed @enmchoices @drakelover78 @kamilah-sayeed-xoxo @parkerattano @asprankle @innerpostmentality @jadedpixiescribbles @crookedslimecreatorpasta @choiceswreckedme @debramcg1106 @mymandrake @alesana45 @christopher-powell @eileendannie @diavolosprincess @lazychic28 @clarissafics @blackcatkita @bella-ca @writtenbycandy @stopforamoment @mind-reader1 @snyggflicka @pbchoicesobsessed @miss-cordonia @mrswalkerwrites @speedyoperarascalparty @viktoriapetit @flowerpowell @choices-sideblog

[stopforamoment]

Part Four: Getting Ready to Go (Series 8, Part 4 of 8)

Series Eight: Good Guys Do Exist (Eight Parts) Part Four: Getting Ready to Go (Series 8, Part 4 of 8) Masterlist

Book: The Royal Romance (After Book Three—or Four?) Pairing: Bastien Lykel x OFC Rinda Parks Word Count: 701 Rating: M for Language

Author’s Note: Obligatory disclaimer that Pixelberry Studios owns the TRR characters and my pocketbook with those darn diamond scenes. OFC with all of her quirks is all mine. My apologies if Tumblr or I do something stupid when I try to post this. The keep reading link shows up on my laptop but not my phone. Ugh.

Series Summary: It’s the fourth week of school, going into October, and it’s Bastien’s last week as security officer at the school. He’s just helping Drake with the transition, and then he’s back to the palace as Head of Security for the Royal Guard. This series starts to transition Drake into the school and sets him up as a “good guy,” (our marshmallow!) just like Bastien. Summary: Part three is just a transition from the school day into the evening, but Drake did hint to Henry that Bastien is a pretty cool babysitter.

Thursday after School, Week Four

Laura and Rinda were in the classroom, and Rinda was helping Laura finish her hair and makeup. “Laura, you look gorgeous. That dress shows off the goods without crossing the line and I’d kill to have your dark eyes that are just pools to your soul that I would get lost in. And don’t get me started on that sexy STRAIGHT dark hair that I’d run my fingers through all night long. You’re such a bitch.” Rinda gave her friend a playful wink. “Let me get a mirror.” They had truly made up, but Rinda apologized once more. “I know I was being more mom than friend, and I am sorry. Especially for that crazy intervention. That was totally uncalled for, but I am glad that you’re letting me and Drake tag along, okay?” Laura hugged Rinda. “It’s okay. I get it. And thank you.” Bastien and Drake walked in, and Drake’s jaw dropped. “Laura, you look . . . um, wow. You clean up pretty good.” Bastien rescued Drake. “Drake is right. You look absolutely beautiful tonight.” Rinda grinned at Bastien and Drake, but she saw Drake needed a little more time to recover so she quickly changed the topic. “So, Bastien. Henry tells me you have a fun night of Rick and Morty ahead of you?” Bastien nodded his head. “Yes, and if it would be any other kid I’d know he was trying to get away with something with the babysitter. But I know you watch it with him.” Rinda threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, absolutely. It’s hilarious. And he might try to get you to play Monopoly. If you decide to play without me that’s fine. I understand.” Bastien shook his head. “No, we’re going to wait until you can play too. That game was started with the three of us.” Rinda gave him a shy smile and suddenly blushed, realizing Laura and Drake were silently watching them.

As if on cue Henry walked into their room, throwing his backpack on the floor and flopping into a nearby chair. He gave a dramatic sigh and Rinda cleared her throat at his rude behavior, but Bastien and Drake snickered. He glared at his mom. “What? It’s been a rough day.” Rinda tapped his backpack with her foot as she was talking. “So, was there anything good about your day? Besides walking in here and rudely throwing your backpack on the floor in the middle of Ms. Halkais’ classroom?” Laura grinned at Rinda when Henry rolled his eyes. “Okay, what was the yuckiest part of your day? Is it getting any better having to sit by those giggling girls during math class?” Now Bastien and Drake exchanged glances and smirked, knowing Henry wouldn’t be annoyed by sitting next to girls for much longer. Rinda caught their eye and just shook her head, biting her lip so she wouldn’t laugh. Henry launched into a tirade about how they were so annoying and loud, and he couldn’t get his work done because they kept bothering him. Rinda nodded sympathetically, and Bastien made a mental note to tell Henry it was important to be nice to girls because, well . . . Just because. When Henry was done venting he turned to Bastien. “So, Mr. Lykel. What’s the surprise you’ve got?” Bastien had a look of fake shock on his face. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m going to drive you home, make you do homework, and sit on the couch watching football while you clean the house for your mom.” Henry rolled his eyes. “Drake told me that you babysat him and his sister when they were little. He said you were pretty cool and you always brought a special treat.” Drake grinned at Bastien. . . . . . “Henry, I just have to talk to Drake for a minute, okay?” “Sure, Mr. Lykel. I’ll wait outside.” Bastien took Drake aside. “Drake . . .” “I know, Bastien. I’ll take care of them and get them out of there if the guy is a creep. I’ll check in during the meal and let you know when we leave.” Bastien gave Drake a grateful nod.

tags: @asherella-is-a-dork-3  @liam-rhys

[thenarcolepticone]

Would You Like Fries With That?

by TheNarcolepticOne

(AO3) (FF.net)

Summary: Without any other alternative for a lunch break, Arthur decides to settle for McDonald's; his least favourite establishment in proximity to work. But along the way, a rather odd foreigner decides to take some part of the stage too. Fate seems to always have it that way.

A/N: I’m going to try and transfer some of these fics to Tumblr. Maybe people can tell me later about some prompts they want me to try lol. Let me know! Warnings: Rated T, language, and sexual concepts. Nothing outta the ordinary gay fluff lmao

Arthur was late. He hated being late, and he hated leaving bad impressions on people. The concept of not knowing when he might arrive at a specific location at a specific time just bothered him enough to make his chest ache, and thus, his dislike for tardiness. But it couldn’t be helped. From the time that he had started on his paperwork last night, to the early morning memory of seeing the digital clock read 3:39AM before he dozed off; it made it an understandable mental mistake. But a mistake like that usually bargained his job, and his paycheck by extension. He might not be able to afford pressing down on the gas pedal to an almost horizontal position if he lost it today. Though, he believed it best not worry about it now.

The radio was off; it was a distraction to his focused driving. He honked a man for being unbelievably slow in accelerating after the light had turned green. He barely saw the hand of the man he passed (probably giving him the middle-finger) out his window before he overtook him. And a string of curses left his lips as he continued to tailgate another car, and promptly turning left so hard that his Alfasud nearly tilted on its side.

Arthur practically sped down the straight path leading to his building; able to maneuver the traffic with practiced skill (though it was more likely from experiencing lateness more than he’d like to admit). His car had barely fit between the two lines of space provided. Arthur wasted no energy wanting to fix it as he stumbled into the building with only four minutes to spare.

The next round of orders began to start up as Alfred adjusted the black hat with the famous M on his head, along with the headset for listening to the drive-in orders from outside. He sighed, getting to his station as he started to clean it up a bit. Another six hours of standing in one place and taking the same orders every time. Not that he really found it bothersome, however. He did get paid, and generously too. The manager seemed to have an interest in his rather peppy personality, to which he took as both a compliment and another reason why he was always asked to take longer shifts than his co-workers.

Days like this usually stacked on him, though. Homework and housework had to be put on hold for those six hours, and it usually didn’t mean any good news for him later when his mother came home with a tired look, but fuming rage. At least he was doing something productive, or else his (new) phone would get confiscated.

Alfred, despite being here for 2 months now, had just barely moved to England and was currently waiting for the start of the academic year to begin at the University of London. Getting into a foreign institution was difficult; what with the sudden separation of his parents and his mother’s hasty decision to return to where she was raised. But he was able to make it just fine, albeit being technically alone and friendless until then. It didn’t really let it get to him, and instead chose to think positive by smiling every day like the happy meals he was meant to advertise.

He was a little later than normal to come to work. The busy traffic and the rush of people trying to get to their offices by their strict time quota was a familiar battle he had to fight every day. The only difference was that by the time they got to work, the entire memory of the ordeal would go away instantly until the next rush hour for lunch and the third one on the way home.

Conversely for Alfred; it was an unending cycle of less than happy customers demanding specific orders from the menu all day every day. From the morning people who want to buy a quick breakfast at Mickey D’s, to the asswipes who yell at him because his co-worker forgot the mustard.

It was jumble for everyone on board.

The shift thankfully didn’t start until fifteen minutes later. His lunch break was only so short. Alfred propped his elbow on the counter, staring out through the small window with a strong sense of irritation.

Some shitty excuse for a driver wanted to ruin his morning by not even giving him a chance to move forward even an inch before the light switched. The American didn’t feel the need to dwell on those thoughts for long, but he often wanted to vent his stresses privately some of the time. His happy-go-lucky façade couldn’t always keep itself up.

Alfred knew afternoons weren’t always his favorite type of the day. But he would get off soon enough. The stench of burgers seemed to always fill his nose and he was, lord forbid it, actually getting tired of the stench.

Ugh. He probably needed to purge himself later by buying another Big Mac on the go.

“Are you doing okay, Alfred?”

The blonde’s head turned. Before him stood a kind man, gentle with the way he spoke but with a certain independence that was admirable even to Alfred. He didn’t speak much, but only if he was concerned for a friend.

“Yeah, Toris,” he sighed. “Just a bit tired. And a little bit of road rage left in me. Nothing bad, I swear.”

The other shifted in his step.

“Well…I suppose. You’re still getting used to it here, anyway. You mentioned you lived in rural area before coming here. It’s a big change. I thought m-maybe I might relate a little, being a foreigner too…”

Alfred rose his eyebrows. His smile went back to full blast as he pat Toris on the back. It was rough enough to make him stumble.

“Thanks for worrying about me, man. I feel fine. Don’t sweat it.”

With a final glance over in his station, he stood there, ready to take the orders. The monitor revealed a familiar looking car in the line, and Alfred turned the headset on.

Arthur yawned, staring ahead as he waited for the next car to finish their order. McDonald’s wasn’t a place that he would rather prefer to eat. His preferences usually consisted of sit in, full course dining restaurants with a little bit of class and some variation with the foods; not really some branch-extended business that was only there for the sake of profit. But alas, the other cafés were particularly full and this was the only option near enough to his workplace without much concern with the distance.

The car ahead finally moved forward, and he pushed down his parking brake and accelerated slightly to align himself with the large walkie. He rolled down his window with some effort before he leaned out enough for the man to hear him.

“Hi! Welcome to McDonald’s! What can I get started for you?”

Arthur took a moment to ponder the voice. American. He blinked, uneasy at the fact that he almost assumed that he was in the States for a few seconds.

“Uh, hello,” he greeted rather offhandedly. “I’d like a cheeseburger, please. No pickles or condiments. And a drink as well. Sweet iced tea, if you have it.”

There was a moment of silence as the order began to go through. But before the actual price was announced, a different response came out instead.

“Are you sure that’s it, sir?”

“I’m positive I know what I want, yes.”

“No…lettuce? Or tomatoes?”

“I probably would have mentioned that in my order, sir,” he said, getting slightly annoyed with the questions. Was this business really just bent on getting his money on basic vegetables? “Now may I please proceed?”

“Uh, sure,” he said awkwardly before stating the price. “I’ll be at the window.”

Without so much as a hasty ‘thank you’, he put his upper frame back inside his car and left his window open as he drove to the window.

By the time he got halfway there, he heard the same voice, asking the car behind him about his order. A fast worker, no doubt. He began to feel the weight of his exasperation lift by a fraction. Despite the man’s obvious rookie-like style of work, at least it was something. Arthur briefly wished he could go back on his years before attending London University and work like the cashier was doing instead of the relaxing he did back then.

He was a first-year graduate student now. There really wasn’t any need to dwindle on the past.

The windows realigned again, and Arthur yanked up the parking brake before looking to the employee.

And his heart thumped.

The individual in question wasn’t quite ready to talk to Arthur but was instead typing the orders onto a monitor. Arthur noticed the way his black polo seemed to hug his body in the right places, revealing to be what looked like a well-preserved athlete’s physique. It was hard to find those types in the autumn. Even his face appeared more foreign than he expected. Sure, the man was blonde like him. Except hearing his voice alongside actually looking at the physical body made it all the more different.

It screamed American.

And he swallowed.

What a bloke.

Eventually, the other got off of the headset and walked to the window, smiling as he leaned down (almost casually) to Arthur’s height.

His car wasn’t elevated, so it made some sense why he was doing it. Although he actually believed that his Alfasud was a piece of junk, perhaps it had some use after all.

He had a good view of his cashier.

“Hi,” the American greeted again. “Cash, credit or debit?”

Arthur cleared his throat, looking back to his empty seat and grabbing his wallet.

“Cash.”

For a moment, the stare of the attractive man was rather embarrassing as he sifted through his wallet. He pulled out two, five-pound notes and handed it to him. From this action, he was able to get a name from the name tag he wore.

Alfred F. Jones.

He couldn’t have gotten any more American than he already was.

Alfred took the money, putting it in the register before handing back the change.

“Alright. Excuse me a moment. I’ll be back with your order.”

Arthur put the extra change back in his wallet before sighing.

Christ. He thought his hormones were at a standstill after Francis. And it just resurfaced as quick as a rabbit’s birth.

Alfred returned soon enough, and with the paper bag. Arthur retrieved it, putting it into his lap and checking the food to make sure it was right. It was.

“Thank you,” said Arthur without looking at him. He feared if he did, he would be blushing a lot more obviously than he was now. Arthur set the food right next to his wallet on the empty seat. He was about to release the parking brake, but not before Alfred spoke up again.

“Would you like fries with that?”

The Englishman glanced up.

“…since you’re asking…but make it quick.”

Alfred looked as the man drove off while he waited for the next in line. Sometimes, people didn’t appreciate this establishment like they should. And Alfred wanted to get it a point to get as many snobby Englishmen to try and taste the burgers first before saying it stinks. He was glad he was able to convince the last customer otherwise.

Before he could even try and turn back to the monitor, he just caught the sight of the recent car driving away.

On its bumper was the coat of arms for the University of London. It made itself familiar in two ways. The first with its obvious relevance to him. The second being that it was the same asshole who decided to honk him.

The cutest asshole he had ever laid eyes on.

And he had just gotten him extra fries for being such an asshole.

It made him feel like an asshole.

…but fuck that.

He hoped he’d stick around longer tomorrow.

[fanfics-bts]

You’re Annoying (And Kinda Hot But I’d Never Dare Say It Aloud) // Chapter 4

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2, Chapter 3

💙 Prompt : Jungkook didn’t expect for Jimin to tag along for their summer camp. And he most definitely did not expect for the smol squishy fluffball of sunshine to have that kind of breath taking,heart throbbing, god-like body.

Or, Jungkook “hates” Jimin but his charms are kind of seeping through to him and Jungkook’s not sure if he wants it to stop.

💎 Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, Summer Camp au!

Fic :

 Jungkook walked away, as always. Every time the boy was faced with any problems, he'd face the other way and go as far from the problem as he could. But given the circumstances and the confusion the boy was feeling, could you blame him?

 Yes, yes you could, and that's exactly what the boy did, 

He blamed himself because frankly, it was all him.

                                      And he knows that he should fix things and just stop running away but God, all he wanted to do now was to get out of this place as fast as he could. He didn't want the others to see this side of him.

The insecure, terrified side of him.

“Jungkook-ah!, Jimin calls out but he only walks faster.

 God, do you have to hurt everyone around you, Jungkook?! , he thinks.

 He vaguely hears Jimin say something along the line “Why’d you do that?” to Yoongi as he strides his way to Jungkook.

-

He almost reaches the cabin but Jimin yells this time, “Yah!! Jeon Jungkook!”.

Jungkook stops in his tracks but doesn’t turn around. Jimin pulls him by the arms so that he was now facing the latter.

“What?”, Jungkook says, a little bit too coldly than intended.

He always does things more and worse than intended.          

 Jimin purses his lips and scowls. 

 Something was up with this boy for sure.

 "What was that about?", he asks, slowly eyeing the boy whose eyes were redder than usual.

 "I-",Jungkook says but stops himself from continuing, before saying something stupid. He looked at the shorter boy, hoping he'd get the message,

why are you still coming after me after all I put you through?

 why does it look like you’re worried?

 please don’t look at me like that…

  "Walk with me", Jimin says as he walks ahead.

Jungkook only follows quietly, not knowing what else to do.

Jungkook sees Jimin let out a deep breath. He holds his own when the boy started speaking.

"I know what you're thinking", Jimin says, "And I know that.. you might hate my guts and all but ...I just want to know ..why?"

He stops in his track to turn to Jungkook, his expression way too forlorn and so unlike the epitome of Jimin himself.

You got it all wrong Jimin-ah.

 "Why is it that you feel annoyed at everything I do? Why is it that despite how many fucking times I try , you always push me away?", he asks, his voice rising with every passing words. 

You got it all so wrong yet so so fucking right.

He sounded angry when he spoke, but he looked miserable.

And maybe he was a little bit of both.

 It wasn't a daily thing for Jimin to be upset or mad, at least he wouldn't be showing his anger.

 But Good lord, how could he not get angry? It was always like this and Jimin was tired.

He tried and he tried to get the younger to like him, to somehow make Jungkook stop despising him so fucking much, but it always ended with Jungkook rejecting him.

-+- "Jungkook-ah you wanna go for a walk?", 

"No thanks, I have homework"

-

"Jungkookie, teach me how to play overwatch!"

"Pft, you're not good at games anyways, why bother playing?"

-

"Kookie!! You're 17 now!! Happy birthdayyyyyyy~", he hugged the boy.

"Ugh l-let go of me!.... P-people are l-looking"

-+-

He doesn't really see as to why he tried so hard for the younger, when all he did was throw spiteful insults and send glares.

"I'm tired.", Jimin continues when he notices that the taller won't budge, 

"I'm tired of all the insults and the glares and the fights, god I'm tired of you!!", he rambles out.

"And you still didn't answer me, what was that?", Jimin asked pointedly, jabbing a finger at his chest.

"Why did you look so miserable like you're the one hurting?! Like you're the one getting called as all those names??", Jimin continued, shoving the boy backwards slightly.

"I'm stupid, ugly, fat , annoying-what more do you have to say? Huh??", Jimin breathes heavily at the sudden outburst even he had not expected from his own self.

And as uncharacteristic as it seems, Jungkook whimpers with a lowly voice, "I'm sorry".

I don’t mean it.

"For what exactly Jungkook-ah? For shoving me away from you? For treating me like shit? For insulting me? You gotta be specific here", he says back sarcastically as he folds his arms.

His glare was prominently set on the boy who wouldn't look him in the eyes, but his gaze turned softer the second he noticed a lone tear tracing down his cheek.

Was he crying?

Jimin voiced his thought out and tried to get closer to the other boy to see clearer but Jungkook only turned and walked away, fast.

And this time around,

Jimin didn't chase after him. 

*

The next day Jimin and Jungkook were avoiding each other like the plague. Interacting with anyone but the other and only answering in short sentences when necessary.

Jungkook knows he should do something about it, he's the cause for this and Lord, did he know.

 He knew from the moment he spoke those spiteful words to the older boy that he messed up.

 Yes, he'd always teased him and all but never did it make that big of an issue that it would create such tense atmosphere around the two of them.

And God, he feels horrible. 

The other night he had cried in front of Jimin, he could only hope Jimin didn’t notice the hurt expression of his. He was starting to show his emotions but he didn’t want to.

He never wants to express his feelings, as a matter of fact, he guards them like a fucking shield, not wanting anyone near him, not wanting anyone to hurt him.

It was the crippling anxiety and fear of getting hurt that had caused him to push people away.

It was the crippling anxiety and fear of getting hurt that had caused him to push Jimin away.

He feels horrible.

And the way Yoongi would cuddle and occasionally whisper soft words to Jimin on the couch in front of him, doesn't make him feel any better.

If Jungkook felt jealous before, it was nowhere close to as bad as he feels now.

He feels hurt.

 _(past tense)

He tried to get angry, to vent out the tugging feeling off his chest.  But Jungkook can't be mad at Jimin, he can't come to blame anyone but himself, it was his own fault.

He wanted to fix this, but he just didn't know how.

He always dealt with things the only way he could, he ignored them. But he knew for a fact that it’s not going to take him anywhere.

And so he does the second best thing he could do,

moping around and glaring at Yoongi.

 They were waiting for the rest to come so that they could go night walking in the forest park, yes, it’s 1 am right now but no, who sleeps in a summer camp night?

 -

A while later, they had went out, with Jimin still glued to Yoongi’s side, like usual.

And with Jungkook still looking at them, like usual.

Taehyung had tried to pry Jungkook into conversations, to somehow make the mysteriously sad boy engaged in whatever it is they were doing.

Even after they reached the park filled with beautiful conifer trees, Jungkook was still in his blur state of mind.

This was definitely unusual, Taehyung thought. Jungkook always loved the starry summer nights, what was so different now?

Taehyung knew better than to ask and talk to the boy though, there was no way that he’d talk about his problems to him in the first place.

But it’s not like he needs to anyways, he sees the way Jungkook looks at Jimin, the way Jungkook glares and uncomfortably fidgets whenever Yoongi and Jimin are close to each other.

-

Jungkook was sitting at a bench by the small lake (it looked more like a pond, Jungkook wasn’t so sure), he sat as far from the couple as he could, but no matter what, his eyes always looked back at the shorter boy, at the way he was smiling oh-so-widely at whatever it was that Yoongi said.

It’s as if they were in their own little bubble, they had completely spaced the other guys out.

Although the park was as good as empty, it still felt crowded to Jungkook.

  Too much trees, too much light, too much emotions.

Through his thoughts of self-grief, he hadn’t realised Jin sat beside him, yet again.

“Talk to him.”, he said and sighs. “You’re so obvious”

Last time he said that he had laughed at him, joked about it, ‘cause It was so obvious that you like him .

But this time around, he had said it a bit softer, with a hint of sad, ‘cause It’s so obvious that you’re hurting.

 -

“I can’t..”, Jungkook said after a while of collecting his thoughts.

“And why’s that?”, Jin asks.

“..he hates me.” ,Jungkook rasped out. His throat tightening and heart stinging now that he actually stated the words out.

“did he ever say that?”

“..no”

“then why do you say that?”

“ because it’s obvious?”, he looks at Jin in with a ‘duh’ expression

“Just as obvious as the looks he’s giving you right now?”, Jin retaliated as he nodded his head, pointing towards where Jimin was standing with Yoongi.

Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows at what he says and turns to look at the direction he was pointing at.

He noticed Jimin looking at him but quickly looking away, all the while sneaking glances at him.

He didn’t have the tint of red on his cheeks this time (or maybe he did, Jungkook couldn’t really tell in the dark night), instead he looked doleful. 

Like he’s mad, and upset yet longing.

“He doesn’t hate you Jungkook-ah, he never did. “, Jin said, causing Jungkook to look at him again.

“You’re the only one who went around saying how much you hate him, kook. Only you.”, Jin said as softly as he could, like he knew how fragile and miserable Jungkook felt.

Oh God.

“But ……...I don’t mean it”, Jungkook said slowly, looking at his cocoa-stained timberlands, trying to stop that goddamning stinging tug at his chest.

“..I love him,hyung” , he said looking straight at Jin. “You know that” , he whimpered ever so slightly.

“I know Jungkookie, everyone knows.”, Jin said. 

“But just not him”.

Hellooo~! Well, this took a long time to write, oops XD . I hope you like it! I swear I’m not trying to be cruel with you guys lol I just want Jungkook to suffer cos he hurt ma poor Jimin.

I know there’s not much going on here but trust me, you’ll need a breather like this for the next chapter... ;) bombs will be dropped lol.

Thanks for reading! <3

[alwaysontheside-blog]

I found a great little local market near me that carries a lot of organic fruits and vegetables and specialty foods. I try to buy meats and produce that are good for us. I do not mind the bigger price tag as long as it comes with a big benefit. I know that organic foods are said to be healthier for us than produce grown with chemicals and pesticides. BUT, if you are not eating the produce 15 minutes after you buy it, you just bought garbage!

I have thrown away more fruits and veggies because organic foods decay so quickly! I bought strawberries that smelled and looked delicious! THE NEXT DAY, MOLD! The same thing happens with grapes and blueberries. If I do not eat these things in the car on the way home from the market, they are trash! I can plan better with the natural meats but I am done with the fruits and veggies! I feel better now that I was able to vent! I am going to stick with the preservatives for now.

I love the change of seasons, especially spring and summer! The world looks new and colorful! The leaves on the trees seem greener than ever and the flowers are bursting with color. They have soaked up all of the rain that has fallen in April and are awaking for beautiful days ahead! It is also a fun time or cooking. There are lots of fresh and naturally ripe veggies. There is a farm down the street from us that has the best tomatoes and corn in the summer. The tomatoes are so red and juicy and the corn bursts with flavor. I have a favorite dish that I start to make again once the tomatoes look and taste a lot better. It is a Tomato Basil Tartless. It is so tasty and easy to make. It is a great side dish to chicken or steak.

Tomato Basil Tartless

You will need: 2 large tomatoes sliced 1 cup of Bisquick 1 1/2 cup of shredded cheddar cheese 1 cup of fresh basil copped up 4 cloves of garlic or crushed garlic 1 cup of mayo 1/4 cup of parmesan cheese 1/8 teaspoon of white pepper 1/2 milk 1 egg

Preheat oven at 375 degrees F You will need a glass pyre pie dish Line the dish with sliced tomatoes Mix all of the above ingredients in a large bowl and mix well Pour the mixture over the tomatoes and then arrange slices over the mixture Bake for 35-40 minutes

So good!!!! Another side dish that I like to make a lot is homemade thick baked Steak Fries. It is very easy to make and versatile.

You will need: a few pounds of potatoes olive oil salt, pepper and garlic parmesan cheese

Peal and cut potatoes into thick wedge slices and put them in a pot of cold water Salt the water and boil for around 10 minutes until a fork can go through them with a bit of give

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F Line a baking pan wth the cooked wedges and drizzle with olive oil, salt, pepper, garlic and cheese Bake for 20-30 minutes Easy! I also like to add either mozzarella or provolone cheese 10 minutes before the potatoes are done. YUMMY!

I decided to add it with steak and mushrooms.

I am very excited that my 5 years old niece wants to learn how to cook! Any time she comes over I let her help me and she is super into it and excited! Over the years to come, I will teach her how to cook and give her all of my recipes and secrets!

The next blog that you will get from me will be after our Hawaiian vacation. I am looking forward to lots of delicious Hawaiian foods, beautiful islands and lots of rest and relaxation. Stay tuned!

Gotta Love it, Gotta Have it!

My awesome hand held fan that my sister gave me on my wedding day is one of my most favorite possessions.

Lately, I cannot live without it. I am hot, I am fine, no, hot again! UGH!

Organic or Not? I found a great little local market near me that carries a lot of organic fruits and vegetables and specialty foods.

[quartings-main-blog]

SP Part 5

CIELA: There she is! Ciela and Ventor begin running over to where Pyoma is. Underwater, the bandits release their explosives which float upwards while the bandits dive down even further underwater to avoid the blast. As Ciela and Ventor are about to catch up with Pyoma, the explosives released by the bandits detonate, causing a massive underwater explosion that destroys several walkways, platforms and vehicles, violently shaking up the rest of the platforms. This has the added effect of violently stirring up the waters in the area, scaring the large aquatic animals there and sending them into a frenzied panic. 42. Amongst the chaos, the bandits burst from the water, and begin plowing through the crowds in an attempt to get to Ciela and we see that their handheld propellers can launch their ends forward like harpoons, as the bandits use them to attack! Many people are sent flying into the churning lake, including Ciela, who is unable to swim, and panicked struggles in the water, trying to stay afloat. VENTOR: Whoa! Ventor hears a commotion behind him, and turns around to notice that the bandits are heading in Pyoma's direction. VENTOR: C'mon! We need to- CIELA: Ventor! Ventor I can't- (gurgles) Just then, the tail of a large aquatic animal slams into the back of Ciela's head, and she passes out, sinking underwater. VENTOR: Ciela! Ventor jumps into the water in pursuit of Ciela Amidst the chaos underwater and with great difficulty. Ventor grabs Ciela and pulls her back up to the surface. Coughing and sputtering, Ventor drags Ciela and himself onto a large floating piece of walkway. Ventor gets up on his knees and grabs Ciela, trying to rouse her from unconsciousness. VENTOR: Ciela? Ciela! C'mon, wake up! Several bandits notice Ciela and Ventor on the floating piece of walkway, and head towards them to attack. Ventor's shaking wakes Ciela up, and she coughs out water as she groggily sits up. CIELA: Uggh...Water sucks. Ciela looks around and spots the bandits headed towards Ventor and herself. 43. Drawing her gun from its holster, Ciela points it at one of the oncoming bandits in the water, as she unsteadily tries to get up, despite being noticeably weakened. Just as the bandits are almost upon Ciela and Ventor, a hail of bullets rains down upon the bandits, wounding some and scaring off others. Ciela and Ventor look up to see Spanner flying a repaired Skylark complete with new front-mounted guns that Spanner just used to fire at the bandits. SPANNER: Need a lift? CIELA: Who said you could fly my ship!? VENTOR: That's her way of saying thanks! Spanner flies the Sklylark down to Ciela and Ventor, and lets them get aboard the airship. EXT. BOAT STATION-DAY Pyoma runs for her life from the bandits, who chase her down through the streets and fire their harpoons at her. Eventually, Pyoma finds herself cornered with nowhere to run to, and begins to panic. EXT. KESTER'S AIRSHIP High above Dockville, Mona, Symos and Kester are scanning the area beneath them in search of Pyoma. Mona spots Pyoma being chased down by the bandits, and points in that direction to alert the others MONA: I see her! Miss Pyoma is over there! KESTER Good work. Listen up, soldiers! It's time to move out! Kester brings his airship down so that his troops can prepare to disembark. 44. EXT. BOAT STATION-DAY As Kester and his soldiers exit the ship, they immediately begin culling the large amount of bandits causing havoc in the town. The bandits have grabbed Pyoma, and are beginning to drag her away. PYOMA: Ugh, let me go! Get off of me- As Pyoma struggles to escape, the tattoos on her back begins to glow a bright green colour. Suddenly, bursts of bright green energy spring from Pyoma's back in the form of wings, singeing and startling the bandits, causing them to loosen their grip on Pyoma. As Pyoma hovers majestically in the air with her luminescent wings, the bright light she emits fills the entire area, causing everyone there to shield their eyes, as dozens of people look upon this ethereal sight with wonder and fear. This includes the bandits, Ciela, Ventor, Spanner, as well as Kester and his soldiers who are approaching the area. Kester looks at Pyoma with shock and fear for a split second before a look of grim determination washes over his face. KESTER The subject has been primed prematurely in view of civilian witnesses! Soldiers! Take aim and prepare to neutralize! Kester and his soldiers take aim at Pyoma with their rifles. However,  Mona and Symos are noticeably frightened by this development. Pyoma turns around to see the Arbei battalion taking aim at her and fear and the pain of betrayal appears on her face. PYOMA What are you doing? What's happening? Excuse me? KESTER Fire! MONA: No! 45. As Kester is about to fire, Mona tackles him, knocking him to the ground. Despite this, the rest of Kester's soldiers fire at Pyoma. Before the bullets hit, Pyoma's "wings" glow much brighter, and absorb the Epheme bullets fired at her. This causes the soldiers to stop firing. KESTER (Grunts) Get off of me! MONA: Not if you're trying to shoot Miss Pyoma! SYMOS: This goes against everything about our duty to protect her! KESTER You're not a part of our division. Your authority ends here! Kester hurls Mona off of him and rushes at Pyoma. Pyoma attempts to use her wings to fly away, but due to inexperience, she unsteadily rises slowly instead of flying away. PYOMA: Please, don't hurt me! I'll go back! I never meant to leave, I promise! Kester takes aim at Pyoma regardless of this. Just before he can attack again, the Skylark flies down towards them, which distracts Kester and allows Ciela to lean out the side door of the ship and grab Pyoma, as they fly off. CIELA: Thought you could get away from us, eh? PYOMA: (Flustered) I don't know if I should thank you or scream in terror at the sight of you. 46. CIELA: Welcome to the outside world, girlie! After recovering from his initial shock, Kester regains his composure and points to the Skylark. KESTER Don't let them get away! Fire!! INT. SKYLARK-DAY Back in the pilot's seat of the Skylark, Ciela, with Ventor, Pyoma and Spanner nearby. Spanner has just finished explaining the Skylark's new functions to Ciela. CIELA: (To Spanner) This lever, right? Spanner nods his head in agreement. CIELA: Okay, then! Ciela cranks the lever on the Skylark's new dashboard. EXT. SKYLARK-DAY This causes the new gun turrets mounted on the Skylark to turn around to aim at Kester and his crew. EXT. BOAT STATION-DAY KESTER Duck and cover!! Kester and his soldiers dive out of the way to take cover, as the gun turrets on the Skylark fire at them. The Skylark then flies high up into the clouds to escape. INT. SKYLARK-DAY CIELA: Whoo! Man, why didn't we have those installed sooner? (Laughs) So Spanner, looks like ya crudhole town's wrecked now. Wanna tag along with us for the next few days? 47. SPANNER: Are you joking? Do you know how many customers I'm gonna have now that everyone's boats are blown up? CIELA: Yeesh, and I thought I loved cash. (Laughs) SPANNER: Say-would you mind dropping me off back at  my place? CIELA: Alright then, Spanner. In case ya didn't notice, there are a lot of people in town who just tried to kill us, so, you okay if we drop you off just outside o' town if you wanna walk back from there? SPANNER: Okay! EXT. DOCKVILLE OUTSKIRTS-DAY Just outside of Dockville, is an expanse of barren desert. Out of the blue, Spanner falls from the sky onto the sands. The Skylark can be seen flying off into the distance soon afterwards. SPANNER: -Ow! (To Ciela ) I thought you weren't being literal! INT. SKYLARK-DAY Back in the pilot's seat of the Skylark, Ciela activates its autopilot function by cranking a lever on its dashboard. CIELA: (Sighs) Welp. Now that all that's done with... 48. Ciela steps out of the Skylark's pilot seat and walks over to Pyoma, who is huddled up in a corner of the ship crying. CIELA: -You! Little Missy! You wanna tell us what the absolute fricken hell was up with that little light show you put up back there!? PYOMA: I-I-I... (Continues sobbing) CIELA: And don't you try ta' tell me you're some sorta wizard or fairy or some other kind of magical enchanted hoohaa, okay?! Vents and I? We may not have ever gone to any kind o' fancy school or whatever, but we're still people of science! Right, Vents? VENTOR: Um, as...extremely confused as I am after everything that happened just now, I still think there's a logical explanation for everything that happened. CIELA: There better be! The laws of physics are the only ones I hadn't broken yet!  So! You gonna explain things to us or are ya just gonna sit there and be a useless sack of- VENTOR: -Ciela, I don't think she's in the mood for talking right now- PYOMA: (Sniffling) No, no, it's okay. I don't have any idea what's wrong with me either. I want answers to all of this just as much as you do. VENTOR: Okay then, thanks for your cooperation. Now would you mind if I took a look at those weird tattoos of those on your back? 49. PYOMA: Go ahead. Mona and Symos-I mean-my guards always used to look at them to try and find out what they did exactly. I guess we know now. CIELA: Alright, now we're gettin' somewhere. 'Kay. Did any o' your guards ever find anything out about that? PYOMA: Whatever it was that they learned, they never told me. They only taught me history, politics and etiquette in my daily classes. CIELA: (Sarcastic) Wow, fancy. I bet they also fed ya real food everyday too. PYOMA: Um, well-ow! We see that Ventor has used some sort of tool to extract something from her back. VENTOR: Sorry about that. Just wanted to get a sample of your tattoos to analyse. PYOMA: Ugh, well, I suppose you could try analyzing it, but without any of the Arbei Kingdom's state-of-the-art technology, I doubt you'd be able to find anything of value VENTOR: Eh, I might as well take a crack at it. Ventor exits the room to examine the sample. After he does, Pyoma huddles back up in the corner of the room she was in earlier. Taking notice of this, Ciela walks over to Pyoma and crouches down next to her. 50. CIELA: So...you think those wings of yours can help ya fly or somethin'? And here I thought ya couldn't be any more privileged. It'd be so freakin' irritating if Vents and I had to spend years building our ship to fly and you learn how to do it in one afternoon. PYOMA: Oh-well I'm sorry. I-um, I'm not sure if I'm able to. I suppose they might be able to. CIELA: Heh. Well, if ya ever wanna learn a thing or two about flying, you can just ask the expert right here. PYOMA: I'm not sure the science directly translates over when it comes to that. CIELA: Are ya kiddin' me?! Don't you know anythin' 'bout aerodynamics n' such? And I thought they actually taught ya useful stuff back in that fortress. Everything I learned about flyin' I learned from my ma. Your mom ever teach you anythin'? PYOMA: I...don't have a mother, or father. CIELA: That's weird. Everyone's got a mom n' dad, no matter how crappy. PYOMA: Well I've never ever heard anything from my parents. I've only ever had my guards to take care of me, and from the looks of things, they want me dead now. CIELA: Eh, everyone wants everyone dead out here. That's why it's important to keep the folks you can trust close to you. 51.