#we live in a place that gets snow half the year and that’s��. not ideal

[saturn-sends-hugs]

burnt my toast this morning, have a doodle :)

context:

i’m like 90% moved in to my apartment now!! but yeah, forgot to check the settings on my new toaster and ended up with a chunk of coal. didn’t set the fire alarm off, but my place smells vaguely of burnt toast now…

also… up until VERY recently i had no idea these kind of toasters were common in america 😅 i’ve only had a toaster oven my whole life so i thought this version was like… just a british thing lol. i am very smart 100% of the time 🫠

[blouisparadise]

Today we have the fourth part of our hurt/comfort rec list for you! There are tons of amazing fics on this list that we hope you'll show some love to. If you missed the previous parts, you can find part one here, part two here, and part three here. If you enjoy our rec lists, please be sure to like and reblog this post to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Wanna Feel the Edges Start to Burn | Explicit | 6,111 words

Harry gives him a gentle smile. “Feeling a little bit better?” Louis nods tentatively. “I think so yeah. Thank you so much for being so kind, but you really didn’t need to do this.” He lifts his unfortunately still shaky hand and runs it haphazardly through his hair. “It was just a spilled tea, I totally overreacted. I’m a bit embarrassed to be honest.” Harry scoffs. “Are you kidding me? Don’t be. I saw the whole thing, that guy was way out of line. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Louis gives him what he’s sure is a watery smile. “Erm thank you. I wouldn’t normally admit this to a stranger, but you’ve already seen me cry today so what the hell?” He forces himself to let out a weak laugh. “The thing is, my period is due any day now and sometimes the birth control pills make my emotions go a little haywire. I think that’s what happened.”

2) To Love Without Reason | Explicit | 8,894 words

“Come on in, soldier,” Louis pats Harry’s chest and walks away, leaving Harry to follow behind. Harry stands in the living room, looking around at Louis’ dwelling. Family pictures placed high on a shelf, certificates of Louis’ practice, and other trinkets that make Harry entirely too nostalgic. “I have to warn you,” Louis says as he puts the kettle on, the water droplets from his hair trickling down the golden skin of his back. “The door jams if you lock it so you'll have to leave it ajar.” Harry acknowledges with a soft hum, too entranced by Louis’ glistening skin to form a coherent reply.

3) Wanna Do Nothing With You | Explicit | 9,606 words

The accident happens in the stupidest way possible. One minute Louis is demonstrating a skateboard trick he’d just learned for Lottie, the next he’s waking up in a hospital. He’s told that he wasn’t unconscious the entire ride, but he has absolutely no recollection of it. One second he’s fucking around in his own garden and the next he’s being assaulted with the strong sterile scent of a hospital. So. There’s that.

4) Let Me Be Your Good Night | Explicit | 10,520 words

Louis goes on a shit Valentines date and Harry's the cute waiter who takes him home

5) For The Love Of Biscuits | Mature | 16,574 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

The thing about hybrids is that their animal instincts make them jumpy. And quite often lends them to being owned. Harry Styles wasn't looking to purchase a half-breed. But sometimes things just happen. And owning a fox/human hybrid was something that happened.

6) Works Like A Charm | Explicit | 18,088 words

Ever since Louis joined the team in fifth year, a few facts have become set in stone. One: Louis is the best chaser in Hogwarts. Two: Harry is the best beater in Hogwarts. Three: They do not get along. So it’s really unfair of Liam to think that forcing them to spend time together as Louis recovers from his injury will make them the best of friends. The last thing Louis would do is get along with that git.

7) Soup Of The Day | Explicit | 19,958 words

It had been the single minded goal for them since college and seemed simple enough. 1. Study hard. 2. Open their dream restaurant. 3. Take the culinary world by storm. What could possibly go wrong?

8) Under The Rain Or Under The Snow | Explicit | 20,667 words

Christmas AU where they broke up a month ago but Harry shows up at Louis’ childhood home for the holidays. Louis didn’t tell his mum about their breakup so staying with them is not ideal. Harry stays.

9) Heart Eyes | Explicit | 21,467 words

Harry is a dedicated sentinel with a strong aversion to demons, and Louis is the lovesick incubus who will go to any lengths to win Harry's heart.

10) It Was All By Design (‘Cause I’m A Mastermind) | Explicit | 21,986 words

“You can’t be serious. You think I would be so awful to work for - you would rather quit?” “Don’t be all high and mighty about it,” Harry scoffs. “Surely you would do the same.” “I’m not being high and mighty. It’s called being professional.” “Really?” Harry pushes. “You’d work diligently under me with no complaints? You’d do whatever I asked of you?” “That would be my job, so yeah.” Harry shakes his head. “I’d work you so fucking hard,” he says slowly, “that you’d have to quit.”

11) Thrown To The Wolves | Explicit | 21,681 words

Louis is a human living in the Styles' wolf pack who can't stop getting into trouble, and Harry is the soon-to-be alpha who thinks keeping Louis at arm's length is the safest option.

12) Letters To June | Mature | 41,150 words

It's 1915, Europe is in the middle of the Great War. Omega Louis decides to join the Letter Home Project to become someone’s penfriend. Through this he meets a lovely soldier who hasn't got anyone else to send a letter to. Along with his letter, comes a picture of the most handsome alpha Louis has ever seen.

13) Catch Me If I Fall | Explicit | 47,099 words

Lovers when on the stage but bitter rivals as soon as they step off, Harry and Louis have butted heads from the moment they first met. Locked in a stalemate that they hope to ride out until graduation, things take a turn when Harry learns that Louis is hiding a secret.

14) As We Are | Explicit | 48,268 words

Louis doesn't think much when he's asked to meet up with the alpha of the pack two hours from his own - he figures it's business as usual. But Harry Styles is anything but usual.

15) Once Burnt, Twice Shy | Explicit | 52,644 words

Louis and Harry are polar opposites in every way. Where Louis is a bestselling author from the city, Harry is a small-town firefighter who’s never left his home. Where Louis is spontaneous and spirited, Harry is introverted and calm, never straying from routine. When an ill-fated accident and an exceptionally intelligent tabby bring them together, they are forced to confront their pasts and forge a better beginning for themselves. Will sparks fly, or will it all go up in flames?

16) Of Lost Things | Explicit | 57,890 words

Louis comes with a familiarity Harry has never felt with anyone else before. After their fateful meeting, their chemistry became undeniable, and soon after, Harry had felt like he hit the jackpot when it came to finding the person he would spend the rest of his life with. But all relationships come with their own unique problems, and Harry soon realizes that their relationship is no different. When their problems go from unordinary to nearly bizarre in nature, he takes it upon himself to find an answer to their troubles. What he stumbles upon are terrifying coincidences between his and Louis’ story, and the ill-fated mythological couple, Orpheus and Eury. But it’s all they are; just coincidences, ones that feel as frighteningly familiar as Louis. Except… what if none of this is a coincidence? What if everything Harry has always seen as fiction is true, and myth—or rather, history, is about to repeat itself?

17) Sink Into Your Sunlight | Explicit | 79,562 words

In the grand scheme of things Louis did believe in love, what he didn’t believe was that he would ever find it in his life time for himself. Low and behold he would find it with someone he didn’t anticipate, now it was just a matter of having it work out the way he dreamed of.

18) Invisible String | Explicit | 84,726 words

Louis swears on his life that that man came out of literal nowhere and he thanks each lucky star for having good breaks in his car. This strange alpha also happens to be the most beautiful being Louis has laid his eyes on. For some unknown reason, the omega feels safe around the alpha. It might seem strange, but you can't always explain why or how things are the way they are. All you can really be sure of is that they happen for a reason. There's a higher power (call it what you want) that knows better and definitely knows more than you do.

19) Wind Beneath My Wings | Explicit | 93,131 words

As an omega carer that works at a rescue and rehabilitation centre for feral alphas and omegas, Louis has experienced all sides of ferality. So Harry- a cold, near mute, non-receptive alpha- was a challenging case for everyone at Phoenix Rehab Centre. Louis wasn’t expecting to feel drawn towards an aloof Harry, or to form a slow bond with him. He certainly was not expecting for his entire life to change in unforeseen ways.

20) You Were My Because | Explicit | 109,089 words

Note: Please be sure to read the tags and any warnings.

Louis has battled the demons of his past for years now and has little hope of finding happiness for himself. Especially now that a school reunion is taking place and the memories of his school days are suddenly coming back with full force. But after rain always comes sunshine, in Louis’ case in the form of his old schoolmate Harry. A story about healing, friendship, finding trust and love.

21) Drops of Jupiter | Mature | 121,826 words

In a small, sleepy town ruled by prejudice, Louis Tomlinson runs his grandmothers shop for the occult. He finds comfort in his tarot cards, his friends, and a dog that he doesn't have room for. He thought the worst he'd have to deal with would be bigotry, until a new sheriff arrives with a headstrong little girl that's impossible not to fall in love with. But what happens when a string of break-ins leads to a brutal attack, and the towns' darling is murdered right under their Sunday hats? A murder that just so happens to bear the same modus operandi as similar homicides in neighbouring states. Has the killer been circling Virginia, or is he a local of Lavender Hills? And what will Louis do when the charming Sheriff Styles starts to suspect him of such a heinous crime?

22) Sewn Into You | Explicit | 167,485 words | Sequel

Harry Styles thinks soulmates are a fairytale, or in other words-a lie. He has no interest in entertaining anything that has anything to do with the very name that had been etched along his collarbone since his eighteenth birthday. Louis Tomlinson won't be answering to another alpha for the rest of his life if he can help it. Fuck happy endings, his soul mate can choke on it. Problem is, Harry needs a personal assistant to save his family's business, Louis needs the cash to officially move off of his childhood best-friend's couch. They can manage. Surely, nothing will go wrong.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[k-s-morgan]

I heard news about a snowstorm in Ukraine that caused several deaths, and I was so worried for you. Are you okay, Morgan? Is your family safe? Are things calming down there? I keep checking for news that announces the end of this war, and it's disheartening to see that it never arrives. I can't imagine what it must be like to live through this. Is there anything we can do for you? Do you need somewhere to take refuge outside the country? Is the money you receive from your job sufficient for you and your family to live comfortably? I always check the updates you post, and it's admirable that these horrible events haven't changed the golden heart you have, you are a wonderful person and you don't deserve any of what is happening, I hate that I can't do anything to stop it this war, but whatever I can do for you I will.

please be safe, please keep fighting.

Another ask: Hey, I hope you're just busy but please give us some sign that you're okay, please. I'm worried

Another ask: Katrin, you are okay??

Another ask: You okay??

Another ask: How are you going?? Is everything already? Please asnwer 😭

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

Hi! Thank you all, you wonderful anons (and my lovely first anon, I'll respond to your questions further down in this reply). I'm so touched that you've been thinking about me! There was indeed a serious snowstorm that caused some deaths, but I'm fine: honestly, I'm such a hopeless stay-at-home introvert that I usually leave only for short trips to the shop and to feed pigeons & stray cats. So I meet most storms safely tucked in my bed))

It's all right now, though everything is still covered in snow. If there is snow where you are, too, and you see miserable pigeons or other birds around, please feed them if possible! They rely on us entirely during winters. Some grain would be ideal.

I was hoping to make a monthly post, but my tight work schedule + migraines ruined these plans, so I decided to give up on it. Russians haven't attacked my city again yet after that the most massive attack by drones. I'm pretty sure it is coming, though, especially on holidays. They tried to tun our last New Year into hell on purpose by sending missiles during the day, killing people, and then sending drones at night. I worry that this year might be even worse, but I've been teaching myself to live in the present and enjoy peace while I still have it, so I manage to keep my fears at bay.

First anon, thank you so much for your kindness! I have places where I could go and stay beyond Ukraine, but for the next year at the least, I intend to keep holding on because I can't leave without my family (and the bigger half of my family is not allowed to leave legally yet). If Russian attacks get completely unbearable, I might go to Poland to my relatives for a month or two just to unwind and to repair my sanity a bit.

As for the money, I'm doing more or less okay, and people who keep supporting me on Patreon help me to stay afloat. I have some debts, but they are under control - I owe the bank $300, which is 1/3 of my monthly salary, so I'm capable of paying it back little by little. The situation is not ideal, but nothing to worry about.

Like many Ukrainians at the moment, I feel burned out regarding the war. There are many amazing, kind people in this world, and our soldiers are absolute heroes who deserve all respect in the world, but those with power to make decisions like money way too much. It's an unfortunate fact that has been making people all over the world suffer generations after generations. Many US, European, and Chinese companies continue to help Russia manufacture its missiles and other things they use to kill us. The help Ukraine gets is enough to let us survive but not enough to let us win. Those who can make money on it eagerly grab the chance, including some members of our own government. I'd like to be optimistic, but I really don't see a scenario that would end with justice. It's very difficult to accept the fact that terrorists and murderers won't be punished - on the contrary, many of them will continue to live in luxury, unable to imagine what an explosion even sounds like, until the day they die. But like I said before, it is what it is. The world is full of bitter examples like this.

Thank you for being with me and supporting me, reading my stories and sending your asks. I hope to end this month with posting two chapters for my two stories. My second job comes to an end December 15, and hopefully, I'll get a chance to really dive into writing after this!

[hiccanna-tidbits]

@jackunzel-time

Jackunzel Month Week 2 - Coming of Age

***

"Okay, can I look now?"

"Not yet!"

The kitchen is once again filled with the sounds of Rapunzel banging around, plates and dishware clattering as she searches the fridge. Jack's got a sneaking suspicion this all has something to do with the huge, tinfoil-covered mound on the top shelf.

For an entire week, Rapunzel insisted they put every ounce of leftovers in the bottom half of the fridge, ignoring the Mysterious Object™️like a leaky faucet you handn't gotten around to fixing. Not that Rapunzel doesn't occasionally need her home fridge for work-related things, but she isn't normally cagey about it.

Jack once again resists the urge to peek out of the blindfold.

"Come ooooon, Zellie! This anticipation is going to kill me before our starving artist lifestyle does."

Rapunzel laughs. "Starving? I'll have you know, sir, that I've had no less than 5 whole french fries today!"

Considering it was 9 pm, this was not an ideal french fry quota. Rapunzel definitely had time to eat more fries today.

Jack wonders idly if Rapunzel's just getting too caught up in her work to take lunch breaks, or if her manager is crunching her deadlines again.

Before he can get too far into plotting how he would swap her boss's salt and sugar without getting Rapunzel in trouble, he hears the distinctive sound of a lighter.

"Are you torching our apartment?" he asks. "Because if so, I'm very offended I wasn't invited to participate."

Rapunzel scoffs. "Don't be silly! Like I'd set the place on fire without getting home insurance first. And it isn't as though either of us can afford that."

"You're still making me nervous. Usually I'm the one who plays the pranks."

"Hmmm, well...that would have been a good idea, actually." Rapunzel sounds a little regretful. "But no tricks today, I promise. Now open your eyes!"

And at last, Jack gets to see what all the fuss is about.

A stunning, snow-white cake sits in the middle of their dining room table, covered in sparkly silver candy orbs and carefully sculpted fondant snowflakes. All around the side are little hand-painted winter scenes, meticulously crafted by an icing brush in a process that must've taken hours. On top, a "2" and a "6" candle sit ablaze.

Rapunzel, of course, spends all day at work decorating cakes. It's her career. (Or, at least, it has been for the past 6 months--the longest she's gone without leaving a job to date.)

It still seems like she went the extra mile with this one.

"What--" For a long moment, all Jack can do is stare with his mouth hanging open.

"What the hell," he says finally. "How did I forget today was my birthday???"

Rapunzel's surprise quickly turns to laughter.

"Oh my god, how did you forget?"

Easy for her to say. Back when Rapunzel lived with her crazy mom, who practically kept her a prisoner in her own house, birthdays were easily the most interesting thing that happened all year. Birthdays with the Overlands were always much more...lowkey, so to speak.

"In my defense!" He holds up his hands. "Nothing interesting happens when you turn 26. Pretty much all the milestones are finished, so it's just another orbit around the sun."

"Nonsense!" Rapunzel sticks her lip out in disapproval. "That's no way to talk about your coming-of-age ceremony!"

"Coming-of-age?" He raises his eyebrows. "I think we missed the cutoff for that a while ago."

"Well, 26 is your age now." She crosses her arms, chin up defiantly. "And you have come to it. So therefore you have come of age."

He chuckles. "Is that how that works?"

"Why not? Teenagers and college kids shouldn't get to have all the fun!"

"My point still stands, though," he argues. "You don't really...unlock the same kind of stuff in your 20s that you do when you're younger. It's not like there are new magical adventures that you suddenly have access to when the clock strikes 12 on your 26th birthday."

"Says who?"

His girlfriend's conniving smirk sends a wave of excitement through him. What is she plotting?

"Did you find an elite 26-and-over club to join?"

"Not exactly." She leans over the table, smirk widening. "But someone did have a chat with your boss about how many great snowscape photo opportunities there are in the mountains, and how you're going to need to not come into the office for while to get all the best shots."

Jack's eyes widen as her meaning dawns on him. "And Mr. North was cool with that? Me taking a vacation right before the holidays?"

"I mean. He could hardly resist the offer of having his best photographer out getting festive snapshots for the December issue of the magazine. You'd do more good on the field than stuck behind an editing desk, right?"

"No kidding."

Jack sits down, getting ready to blow out the unexpected birthday candles. He pauses, something occurring to him.

"Wait, what about you? I'm not about to go off and leave you to handle the bakery's holiday rush on your own!"

Rapunzel hums thoughtfully.

"Well, funny thing. I told our head baker that I just hadn't been feeling very inspired lately. And if I went somewhere, say, fresh and exciting, then the muse was sure to strike again and I'd pump out a collection of the most beautiful winter cakes the bakery's ever known. Ones to really send that holiday profit flooding in."

"So...you snuck around and got us both a week off for my birthday by spinning it as a work trip? And on top of that, you just casually whipped out the most gorgeous birthday cake I've ever seen in my life?"

She nods, beaming.

"You're my goddamn hero."

He stands up and sweeps her into his arms, pulling her into a kiss worthy of being the Big Dramatic Finale to any coming-of-age film. All these years later, and it still feels like cameras should be spinning around them with rock music building into a triumphant crescendo.

Maybe that's cheesy, but to hell with it.

"Have I ever mentioned I'm in love with you?" he murmurs against her lips.

"I would hope so, Overland. We've been dating for 9 years now."

***

Half a hazelnut chocolate cake and two celebratory hot cocoas later, Jack finds himself being dragged toward the car in the encroaching darkness of 5:30 pm.

"Zel, what--"

"Come on! I booked us a night in a cabin, and we need to take off before the roads get icy. It's supposed to snow in a couple hours!"

"But what about--"

"I packed the car while you were at work." Rapunzel doesn't miss a beat. "Don't worry, I grabbed all your favorite sweaters! Your snowboarding stuff too. And the sleeping bags. And the cozy socks. And the snow chains. And the binoculars. And the sled. And the scarves."

He doesn't have time to form a reply before he's being bundled into the front seat and covered in one of his favorite fluffy blankets. The sheer amount of alpine field guides and brochures on the car floor make him do a double take.

"You have an itinerary?" he asks, surprised.

She hums uncertainly as she pulls out of the driveway.

"Well...nothing too rigid. No coming-of-age road trip of self-discovery can be that structured, or else it might get in the way of spontaneous epiphanies about who you truly are, right?"

"Right."

Rapunzel looks like she's about to burst open with what she isn't saying.

"I sense a 'but' there."

"I did find a really cute place for us to sled." The dam breaks as Rapunzel pulls out of the driveway. "And there's this secluded little mountain animal rescue we have to see. And this four-star cafe we can stop at for hot cider and soup, and this really pretty snowy hike that I don't think is too tiring. Also this ski and snowboard slope we can check out if we have time, with this really cozy lodge, and--"

She cuts herself off mid-sentence as soon as she picks up that all this might be a little overwhelming.

"Buuuuut," she amends slowly. "It's not like I've put down a deposit for anything. We could just drive through the mountains and stop whenever we feel the urge. Find the best secret spots and have them to ourselves, you know? Have deep conversations and be alone with nature and reconnect with our humanity and our sense of purpose. Or something like that."

He can't help but laugh at the way her brow scrunches as she goes deep into thought.

"That sounds great."

"Do you...have a preference?" She gives him a searching look as they pull onto the freeway, already glowing with streetlamps and taillights. "Agenda or no agenda?"

"Whatever you're down for, I'm down for. Hell, I'm just happy to have an unexpected week of vacation."

"I guess that's the thing about these types of 'finding yourself' stories. You kind of have to figure them out as you go along."

"Then let's do some figuring!"

Rapunzel hits the gas, and off they go into the winter sunset, bound for their next coming-of-age adventure. One to perhaps be followed by many more, depending on how many future ages they deem it significant to "come to."

***

Tfw you keep aging but The Blorbos™️do not, so the only logical solution is to force them to age with you XD God dammit, if I have to be in my mid-20s, then so do my comfort characters!!!

Fr tho, I often find myself wishing there were more aged-up AUs in the RotBTD fandom. Most fandom olds returning to (or who stayed in) the fandom aren't the teenagers we were when we first got into the big four anymore, so...why not let them grow up with us??? It's not like their canon ages are some sacred, set-in-stone thing that can't be changed since people do in fact get older as time passes ajdnlshbf

And like!!! Don't get me wrong, I love a well-done high school or college AU, and they can be a lot of fun!!! But I think as I've gotten older I wonder more about how the RotBTD kids would navigate adulthood, and how they would change/adapt and how they would stay the same throughout their lives.

Jackunzel I feel like would be one of those couples who would just be it for each other. Like they get together in late high school--probably junior or senior year--and everyone keeps waiting for the spark to die in college and for them to get stir-crazy (as people who get into committed relationships young often do) or bored of each other, and they just. Don't. MFs hit 30 and are still in the honeymoon phase with no sign of getting out XD

Rapunzel is so right here btw. Twenty-somethings DO deserve to have indie coming-of-age dramas made about them!!! Kids and teens and college students shouldn't get to have all the fun!!! Besides, there's plenty of growing/maturing still to do in young adulthood, so why stop writing stories about that just because the people in question are out of school??? Tbh I'm so tired of movies with adult protagonists being either fluffy (hetero) romcoms or a drama about Some Guy with a wife and kids like??? There are other types of adults besides straights in the dating pool and middle-aged people with tidy little nuclear families!!! I promise!!!

Guess I'll just have to write all those funky little RotBTD twenty-something AUs myself ajshdkuys

Shout-out to the RotBTD discord for giving me the idea of having Rapunzel be a cake decorator and Jack be a photographer! I sometimes struggle a bit with future career ideas for the RotBTD kids, but these fit really well :D Jack definitely seems like the kind of person who would like something freelance and loose-scheduled where he basically gets paid to capture the beauty in the world around him :O And we know Rapunzel can bake, and she likes art, so...

CAKE ART CAKE ART CAKE ART CAKE ART

VERY happy I found that snowflake-and-orb cake, because that definitely seems like something Jack would enjoy 🤍❄️ And now I kind of want to try it 👀👀👀I DO have to wonder how they did that little picture with the tree and the car :O

As always, moodboard pic credits available upon request!

[the-consortium]

Excuse me? Mr Herik? How and why exactly did you get so obsessed with birds? And your wings are so pretty

„Fanmail? Seriously?“ Duco whistles through his teeth in slightly mocking admiration as he continues to prepare a tissue sample with deft, incredibly quick movements. He finishes his task and straightens up. Brushing one of his long, black strands of hair from his snow-white, narrow face, he looks at Herik out of black eyes.

Herik, sitting huddled and very birdlike on a half-open area of the lab table, nods and hands his colleague the datapad.

As the Night Lord skims the few lines, the storm shutters over the skylights close far above them. The howling and pattering of one of the dust storms can only be heard muffled and the extra lights spring to life with a crackle and hum. Further back in the lab, some creatures in glass tanks begin to roar restlessly. Like every time the unnatural weather of the croneworld strikes with too much force.

„You‘re not going to tell your whole story, though?“ Duco hands the datapad back to Herik and goes to the sink to clean his tools. Bloody rivulets gurgle down the drain.

Herik shakes his head in his abrupt, birdlike way. „No. Who remembers the rebellion and Terra? The way it really was.“

Duco grins crookedly, showing sharply filed teeth. „Us.“

„Exactly. And I don‘t have to tell it to us again.“ He hums melodically to himself as Duco places the prepared sample on a steel tray and then sets off to disappear towards the main lab. He nods once more to Herik. „Yeah, there‘s really no need to keep rehashing the whole debacle.“

When he is alone, save for the eyes of quite a few creatures in tanks and terrariums in the corners of the room and the subliminal roar of the dust storm high above his head, Herik drags his clawed feet onto the table, perched there now like a beautiful, exotic bird of prey. Then he begins to write.

„The question is not when I started to be interested in birds. The question is rather - when was I not fascinated by them? And why else do so few people see it the same way? My Gene-sire bears the epithet of the most famous of all birds, and that‘s how I see him: as a mythical creature that burns itself out to emerge again and again. And that is what I have inherited from him. This urge to emerge anew. Something I use not only on myself, but also on my patients and my creatures. That is what led me to the Chief Apothecary. Because no one understands me in that sense like he does. He knows that not everyone is as they should be. That some beings, Astartes and humans alike, lack something to truly be themselves. Something they sense themselves but no one else sees yet. The Chief Apothecary has an almost psychic eye for this. He sees what is missing. What is wrong. And then he perfects.

I‘ve always wanted more than what a jump pack can give me - not that I was ever a Raptor. My Apothecary vocation has always outshone this underlying need. We Emperor‘s Children love speed in battle. Coupled with precision and absolute accuracy. What comes closer to that than a bird of prey? They are perfectly optimised to seize prey. To strike with ruthless speed. That is what I strive for.

It was only after Laer, when Lord Fulgrim opened the way for us to perfect ourselves, that I really felt the need to change so powerfully that I lived only to fulfil it. In those heady years leading up to the Siege and then on the way to the Eye, I laid the foundation for becoming who I really am. And to make it possible for others too.

But I too am only a work in progress. I cannot yet muster enough strength and endurance. I am not yet perfect. I have not yet reached my ideal. But I am experimenting.

And one day I will achieve what I want.“

He looks ahead of him for a while into the silence between the tables and the laboratory equipment. His claws scratch absently across the table. Then he shrugs, briefly spreads his wings to stretch and sends off his answer.

[alex-guerin]

Because the fates apparently hate my family, my bro is also staying with me and my mom until he can get enough money saved up to be able to rent a place of his own now that he has a steady, full-time job here in town.

Unfortunately, he and my (our) dad absolutely despise each other. They have NEVER gotten along at all. Like, I can remember being like seven or eight and standing in my bedroom doorway watching in HORROR as they had actual throw downs in the living room, vowing they were going to kill each other (please bear in mind, my bro is 7 years older than me, so this was when he was like 14, 15-ish years old).

Shit went down a few years ago that I'd rather not get into, my dad slugged my bro, bro called the cops on him and had him arrested, and not long after that my bro completely and totally disowned my dad. Wants nothing to do with him. "I wouldn't piss on that man if he were on fire. In fact, I'd fan the flames," is how he put it one time.

Due to the severe cold weather, I foolishly guilted my dad into bringing our other dog (and himself) down to the "new" place (I say new with quotes because we've had it 2.5 years now) where it's warm and safe and I'm not having an absolute panic attack over my 67 year old father and his 12.5 year old bloodhound surviving in a house that needs to be condemned in life threatening cold.

For the last couple of days, things have been okay, I guess. My bro went out Thursday/Friday night to plow snow, was back laaaaaaaaaaaaate late Friday night. Slept all day Saturday, slept a lot of the day Sunday and then went somewhere so he didn't have to be around my dad at all. Came home, slept, and this morning left for work at the repair shop down the street.

I got home from work a little bit ago, and my mom tells me that my dad has once again proven how big of a dick he truly is. That he apparently screamed in my mom's face that if my bro's truck was in the driveway when he got up for work, he was having it towed. That my bro is useless and lazy and "doesn't do a damn thing" around the house, just sleeps all the time, etc. My mom told him no, he wasn’t going to have my bro's truck towed, because SHE told him he could stay here and SHE is the one who lets him sleep because he needs the sleep, he's been so many years working so many odd jobs that didn't have set hours, he needs to try and get his sleep schedule straightened out. So no, my dad was NOT going to have his truck towed. To which my dad snapped back, "Just you watch me! If it's in the driveway! It's getting fucking towed!"

So my mom texted my bro and told him to park on the street. Not ideal, but it's not in the driveway, so. I told her that yeah, besides, I pay half the mortgage on the house. He wants to play that game, fine, I'm also the co-signer on HIS car, I'll call and have HIS car towed and I WON'T help him get it back out. (Of course, this was replied with, "No you WILL NOT!")

I just...I HATE how fucking TOXIC my family is!! It has always been this way. My dad always always always fought with my bro and sister. My sister fought with anyone she could, and if she wasn't fighting them, she was manipulating them to get what she wanted. She also repeatedly tried to straight up kill me when we were kids (not just the usual sibling rivalry, pick fights with someone smaller than them kind of deal, I'm talking shoved me down stairs, tried to strangle me, would put pillow cases over my head etc).

The amount of emotional and psychological and occasional physical abuse I have been through because of them is ridiculous. It's really no wonder I really don't want to deal with confrontation, but if you back me into a corner, I will come out kicking, screaming, biting, and clawing to get away.

I am deeply regretting being a good child and telling my folks I'd move back in with them to help pay for the new place. I really do. I was out on my own for like 3 years, and it was amazing! I was finally starting to heal and recover...now I'm right back at square one all because I didn't want my parents living in a deathtrap of a house. I sit upstairs in my bedroom, either playing on my phone or playing Sims. I rarely sit out in my own living room because it opens down into their living room, so I can't watch anything on my TV or play games without it interrupting whatever they are watching downstairs. It is an absolute shit position I have put myself in all because I am a good person and want to help my family in any way I can.

[liugeaux]

Repost Vol. 59: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - A Movie Review

Oh boy, a new TMNT movie is coming out next week! To celebrate, let’s take a look at my review from the last time Paramount launched a TMNT movie series. Time hasn’t been kind to this film, and I’m happy to say its sequel was higher quality, but I’m even happier to say this iteration died very quickly. Here’s to hoping Mutant Mayhem is a better reboot.  

Cheers!

Originally shared via realitybreached.com on August 8, 2014.

For better or worse there’s a new Ninja Turtles movie in theaters. Its the first release since 2007 and the first live action release since 1993. The Turtles have a VERY mixed history when it comes to films. The first movie gets universal praise, but everything after it is hit or miss. I really dug 2007’s “TMNT”, but that’s not the movie we are talking about here. Sigh, let’s just get this review out of the way, so we can move onto bigger better things.

No movie this year went through as much scrutiny as the new Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Even I, the self-proclaimed biggest TMNT fan in the known universe, was hyper-critical of the entire film making process. Not only did I dedicate an entire post on my personal blog to the production of the movie, but an entire episode of the Reality Breached podcast was dedicated to destroying the film…pre-release.

Needless to say, I wasn’t expecting much. I went in cautiously optimistic, but in the end there’s alot of stuff wrong with that movie…too much. Let’s start with the good, why not? One thing the turtles have always been good at is humor, and this film hits that nail hard. Hands down some of the funniest stuff ever seen in the series comes directly out of Michelangelo mouth here. Pair that with well placed “Raph is angry jokes”, Will Arnett being Will Arnett, and an absolutely hilarious elevator sequence, if you don’t laugh you might actually have a broken soul. Also, for the most part the cast was good, Arnett was a highlight and Fichtner played bad-guy really well despite having a half-assed script from which to work. The biggest casting surprise was Megan Fox. Sure she played April a bit too ditsy, and her constantly pouty lips were out of place most of the time, but Fox didn’t under or over play her part. In fact, she almost fit the role. She was enough eye candy to make you not hate that she was on screen, and she wasn’t too damsel in distressy. Amazingly, of all the things that broke this movie, Megan Fox was not one of them.

The action was also pretty decent, there’s an exciting Splinter/Shredder fight, and the turtles get really physical with the foot clan. The much shown downhill snow fight is the highlight of all of the visuals, though. Its as ludicrous as it is flashy, but in a movie starring 4 talking mutant turtles it works well. This is gonna get a bit spoilery, but the fears of many fans were quickly put to rest as the characters got introduced. Despite being marketed as “the Shredder” Fichtner is quickly revealed to be a new character (Eric Sachs) and the Shredder is seen very early being Asian and very classicly Shreddery. I’ll need to watch the movie again, but that could be something was added or changed at the last minute during the infamous reshoots. Nevertheless, the changes made to the origin are much more similar to the changes seen in the current IDW comic series than any other version of the story. While not ideal, the origin didn’t offend me until giant inconsistencies popped up mid-story, but again, of all the things that broke this movie, the origin was not one of them.

Fun is to be had while watching the movie, and if you can COMPLETELY detach yourself from both your brain, your concept of proper story structure, and wear huge plothole blinders, you may really in enjoy it. And by enjoy it, I mean the way you enjoy terrible B movies starring retired wrestlers that come on the USA network. With all these good not terrible things in the movie, all the writers had to do was glue everything together with a consistent and coherent story. That’s the part that Liebesman and company get tragically wrong, the part where the movie has to actually be a movie.

I’ve spoken at length about how much I dislike the designs of the turtles in this film. That has not changed. Obviously the production design team decided that since zero script time would be spent developing the turtles as characters that they needed to communicate their individual characteristics through the gaudy nonsensical clothing each turtle was wearing. You tell me where on earth would you find a pair of sunglasses that would perfectly fit a head the size of a watermelon, like, a BIG watermelon. To communicate Donny is the smart one they loaded him down with the biggest stereotypically techy back-pack they could animate and even went as far as giving him coke bottle eye glasses. Donatello’s portrayal of smart or nerdy people in this film is almost as bad a The Big Bang Theory. The only two turtles with significant screen time and lines of dialog are Raphael and Michelangelo. Leo and Donny are just window dressing on the movie’s concept of Mutant Turtles. Dumb!

The Foot Clan’s motivations for their actions simply don’t make sense. Again, spoilers, but the idea is for Eric Sachs, to release a flesh eating disease on the city of New York and blame it on the Foot Clan. He would then sell the antidote to this disease to the city and make billions of dollars. Let’s not deconstruct the fact that Sachs is already an extremely wealthy man that owns multiple companies and has enough money to do whatever he wants. Instead let’s look at the deal the Foot have in place with Sachs. While Sachs gets money from the con, the Foot supposedly get power. Releasing the disease, and selling the cure doesn’t give the foot clan power it just kills people. Once the antidote is spread, things return to normal, and the foot clan have an even bigger target on their head. That’s not a deal, that’s being a scapegoat. Dumb!

15 years ago, Splinter and the turtles were created in a lab by Sachs with mutagen containing a cell regenerating agent that could make him tons of money. This means that Splinter, a normal rat, was never exposed to the art of Ninjutsu, something so crucial to the framework of the origin story, that Ninja is in the name of the characters. Splinter being trained in or even being exposed to Ninjutsu was not-so cleverly replaced with Splinter conveniently finding a book in the sewer that explains exactly what Ninjutsu is, with detailed pictures. Splinter is now a self-taught Ninja master, that within 15 years, learned the art, and trained his sons to use it. That screams of a writers room stuck trying to figure out a way to write themselves out of a hole. “Screw it, let’s just say he found a book, ninjas can teach themselves right?” Dumb!

Every scene in the movie is seemingly held together with thinly veiled plot devices duct tape. How does Sachs find the turtles? The business card he gave April just so happens to be a tracking device. How do the turtles get from Sachs home to the tower they need to protect? The snow hill scene, just so happens to be a short cut directly to it. Oh no 3, of the Turtles are captured, and their blood is being drained. How are Raph, April and Vernon going to save them? The tanks they are in just so happen to also have a massive amount of adrenaline on tap to inject directly into the captive turtles. It sure was convenient there was so much adrenaline available because they sure did need it in the fight scene immediately following the injection. Let’s just discard the idea that 3 of the turtles just had what seemed like gallons of blood drained from them. I’m sure they were good to fight a giant robot ninja master. Dumb!

Unexplained explosions, physics defying iron girders, slow-moving gravity, bullet-proof soft underbellies, virtually unguarded captured mutant turtles, a paper-thin plot, Tony Shalhoub as Splinter, this movie has so…many…problems. Its unfocused, poorly executed, badly written, and painfully predictable. Everything bad about this movie can be summed up in one quote from the movie itself. “Drain them of all their blood, even if it kills them!” Yes folks, that’s what we are dealing with here, a primary villain, who also happens to be a scientist, that is unsure of what will happen if you drain a reptile of “all their blood”. Dumb!

With all of that said, I’m not going to say don’t go see it. Its fun, it clearly doesn’t take itself too seriously and like the Transformers movies, it will have you smiling really big at several parts. The classic turtles references are few and far between, but they hit pretty hard and one thing they got right was the four turtles sense of family. That sense is only present for like 20-30 seconds of the movie but its there and kinda touching. TMNT’s flashy visuals and non-stop action will keep your attention, but beneath the shiny veneer is a cobbled together shell of a movie (pun intended). The worst part is that if it ends up making bunches of movie, which it will, these god-awful turtles designs will start to appear in the other forms of the characters. The Nick show might get all brooding and the TMNT will start to wear dumb-ass clothes, or the comics will abandon actual art and just let the 12 year olds that designed these giant hunks of disgusting start drawing the panels. On second thought, don’t go see this movie, only bad things could come of it.

Verdict: Don’t just don’t, I can’t even being to…no, just stop…wait…yeah, just go watch Guardians of the Galaxy.

[halcyon-digest]

2022

Art Klaudt: Awful evil experience with US customs at Dublin airport

Anonymous 1: riding the bus

ava: having a phase where i went a little crazy for a few months and stopped talking to everyone i know and got really into the band manic street preachers and spent all my time researching them and writing thinkpieces about them to the point where i went to the emergency room for not eating or drinking enough and working too hard

kate: This was the second year I lived in that perfect apartment by myself. At work I had a lot of friends (who have since been laid off unfortunately) and a lot of them lived in the same area as me. We organized a couple "house crawls" between a few of our houses, one of which was mine and another of which was my neighbor who shared a fire escape. So everyone arrived at their house and then at a certain point stepped out of their bathroom window to walk across the fire escape to my kitchen, where I had made nachos for everyone. It felt amazing to have friends and be throwing a party. A similar crawl happened around Halloween and I get them mixed up in my head, but at one of these everyone ended up trying to solve the codes in this wooden puzzle book on my living room floor for hours. It was like my ideal social experience, I miss and crave it.

Anonymous 2: moving from my first apartment into my second apartment. had to heft a bunch of my shit up 2 flights of stairs alone & had to move most of it on my bike, & then i had to go to work shortly after and i felt very bad physically after that

Lucas: I remember a specific situation where my ex gf sent guys to my house, all the stress and the court case it caused

Anonymous 3: Lying in bed at like 1am in my attic room while someone played music from their car so loudly that I thought that it must be that, because the city I lived in was inbetween all these hills so each neighbourhood was like a valley, at least the whole neighbourhood if not more of the city was being kept awake. It kept going on and I got more and more furious and depressed at the thought of the person who was playing this music. The music was something with the kind of bass that makes my scalp crawl, almost like a phobic response to the particular frequency. There was nothing I could do to drown it out.  

Anonymous 4: Being falsely accused of sexual assault, going through trial and getting an "innocent" verdict

Anonymous 5: Happening upon and deleting a screenshot of a silly video call

superswag: I forgot

v0w0v: Leaving my abusive partner and finding a studio apartment for very cheap in a place far enough away that she couldn't find me. I was living alone for the first time in my life. I had a very intense manic episode once left to my own devices, for the first several months I kept my bathtub and the sink and an empty aquarium full of water because it felt lucky. Water gave me powers. I also collected dead animals and vividly remember unsuccessfully trying to scrub the meat off the bones of a half-rotted bird. I also began obsessively working on an rpgmaker game about mania that is still ongoing, albeit stalled now that I'm on sedatives.

Anonymous 6: Walking through a neighborhood in Gatineau while Photobooth played on a poorly made pair of earbuds and admiring the architecture as a pack of kids ran past me and then stopped and stood alongside me to view the sunset.

Anonymous 7: getting really shitfaced and put to bed at 4 by my workmates, then having a dream that i threw up on my friends floor. it wasn't a dream so i had to ask his sister for a mop. as an aside i was hit on by a gay man that night who asked if i belonged to the 'six inches or more club' before spilling his drink on my sneakers.

binnie: Pushing carts and shoveling snow

Anonymous 8: Student-teaching and becoming more confident with myself

April M. Mildew: Final weeks of the year. Getting invited to an internet artist's discord server because she liked my art and my "online presence". Just before that I was on her website trying to gather the confidence to click on an invite link to that same server. And then I get messaged out of the blue. It scared me very badly. I became paranoid that she was watching my computer somehow just like how I used to worry my dad was watching my cellphone somehow.

[weather-usa]

A ubiquitous plant is increasing the risk of wildfire disasters

A ubiquitous, resilient, and seemingly harmless plant is fueling an increase in large, fast-moving, and destructive wildfires in the United States.

Grass, as plentiful as sunshine, acts like gasoline for wildfires under the right weather conditions: a single spark can set it ablaze.

Climate change is altering temperature and precipitation patterns, leading to larger and more frequent fires. These fires, in turn, exacerbate ecological destruction, making grass even more dominant.

“Name an environment and there’s a grass that can survive there,” said Adam Mahood, a research ecologist with the US Department of Agriculture’s research service. “Any 10-foot area that’s not paved is going to have some kind of grass on it.”

Grass fires, though typically less intense and shorter-lived than forest fires, can spread exponentially faster, outpacing firefighting resources and burning into the growing number of homes being built closer to fire-prone wildlands, fire experts told CNN.

Over the last three decades, the number of US homes destroyed by wildfire has more than doubled as fires have become larger and more severe, according to a recent study. Most of these homes were burned not by forest fires but by fires racing through grass and shrubs.

Climate and Average Weather Year Round in Oregon:

The West is particularly at risk, with more than two-thirds of the homes burned over the past 30 years located in this region. Nearly 80% of these were consumed by grass and shrub fires.

One factor contributing to increased wildfire risk is the growing number of homes being built closer to fire-prone wildlands, known as the wildland-urban interface. The amount of land burning in this sensitive area has surged since the 1990s, as has the number of houses. As of 2020, around 44 million homes were located in the interface, a 46% increase over the past 30 years, according to the same study.

Building in fire-prone areas comes with obvious risks, but it also increases the likelihood of fires igniting, since humans are responsible for starting most fires.

In the sparsely populated parts of Kansas and Colorado, more than 80,000 homes are in the wildland-urban interface, managed by US Forest Service officer Bill King. He emphasizes that living on the edge of nature requires proactive measures to prevent destruction.

Property owners “need to do their part too, because these fires – they get so big and intense and sometimes wind-driven that they could spot miles ahead even if we have a huge fuel break,” King said.

‘A Perfect Storm’ for Fire

Climate change-fueled fires are attacking the western half of the US on all fronts.

“Globally, the places that burn the most are places that have intermediate precipitation,” said John Abatzoglou, a climate professor at the University of California, Merced. “It’s a little bit like Goldilocks. Not too wet, not too dry, just right, with plenty of ignition.”

In America’s grassy heartland—the typically dry and often windy Plains—a series of compounding extremes across seasons are creating ideal fire fuel conditions in perennial grasses. Grass is more abundant here than in other regions, providing continuous fuel for fires to feed on.

The region is experiencing more megafires, such as Texas’s largest, the Smokehouse Creek Fire, and more destructive fires like Colorado’s Marshall Fire, which destroyed over 1,000 homes in 2021.

Rainy springs lead to more grass growth, which then goes dormant in the winter. Warmer winters with less snow cover, especially in the Northern Plains, expose the grass to warmer, drier spells in late winter and early spring, according to Bill King and Todd Lindley, a fire weather expert with the National Weather Service in Norman, Oklahoma.

Grass is uniquely flammable due to its sensitivity to weather, Lindley explained. Unlike forests, grass can turn to tinder after short periods of warm, dry weather. Moisture can be sapped from grass in as little as an hour, even a day after rain. Add a spark, strong winds, and invasive shrubs that burn hotter and longer, and you have a recipe for grass fire disaster.

“These compound extremes, these sequences of extremes that follow one another—if you get the right sequence, it can be game on for this sort of wildfire,” Abatzoglou said. “Basically, you’re creating a perfect storm for the fire to spread there.”

See more:

https://www.behance.net/gallery/196654057/Weather-Forecast-for-North-Dakota

Grass Invasion

Extreme drought and years of forest neglect are leading to larger and more intense fires in western forests, according to King.

"When I started 30 years ago, a big fire was 30,000 acres, and now that's become normal, typical," King remarked. "Back then, I might see one of that size per year, or every couple of years, but now we hear about 1-million-acre forest fires."

Grass is present in forest ecosystems as well, acting like a fuse that connects easier-to-ignite fine fuels to larger, drought-stressed tree systems, thereby creating and spreading more intense fires.

As trees succumb to these fires, grass quickly moves in. Grass can recover from fire much faster than other plants and can ignite again, sometimes in just a matter of months—a phenomenon King has witnessed firsthand.

"You could see green grasses sprouting in a burned landscape within a day or two; that's how rapidly it rejuvenates," King observed. "Forest recovery, on the other hand, could take years or generations, or may never fully recover in our lifetime or our generation's."

As more vegetation in the West burns, it is being replaced by both native and non-native grasses.

Weather Forecast For Louisiana:

In desert areas, this trend is causing fires where they were previously rare, as noted by USDA's Mahood. Drought-fueled fires are now growing larger in deserts due to annual grasses. Unlike perennial grasses found in the Plains, these annual grasses rely on occasional bursts of rain to propagate, then die off, leaving a carpet of fire fuel on the desert floor.

Two recent fires in California’s Mojave National Preserve serve as prime examples, according to Mahood. These fires exploited invasive red brome grass and scorched hundreds of thousands of acres of Mojave Desert, including over a million iconic Joshua Trees.

The escalating hot and dry conditions also hinder the recovery of native plants, leading to an increase in grasses.

The West’s distinctive and resilient sagebrush ecosystem, the largest of its kind in the contiguous United States, has seen half of its area lost or degraded in the past two decades. A study by the US Geological Survey revealed that an area roughly the size of Delaware falls prey to grass, fire, and other stressors each year.

See more:

https://weatherusa.app/zip-code/weather-85016

https://weatherusa.app/zip-code/weather-85017

https://weatherusa.app/zip-code/weather-85018

https://weatherusa.app/zip-code/weather-85019

https://weatherusa.app/zip-code/weather-85020

With an expanding presence of grass and a complex interplay of climate stressors, the risk of wildfires is rising both now and in the foreseeable future.

"Although the current situation may seem dire, it will likely pale in comparison to what we might face in the next decade," Mahood cautioned. "Consider how relatively mild the fire seasons were just two decades ago—now, those times seem inconsequential."

[anthonysstupiddailyblog]

Anthony’s Stupid Daily Blog (300): Tue 10th Jan 2023

Up early despite it being my day off as I wanted to take the motorbike to get the left footrest fixed. The guy at the garage said that he should have it fixed by the end of the day and to call him up at. teatime to ask about the progress. It did mean that I had to walk all the way back up the hill in my full motorbike gear and carrying the helmet which wasn’t ideal but made more tolerable by listening to Margaret Miller’s Beast in View which I listened to on audiobook. Every time I read a book that I like I buy an audiobook of it and Beast In View was the first book in the Edgar Award winners challenge I read that I fucking adored. I phoned the guy at half 1 and he said that it was already fixed and I could come and get it. I asked how much it would be and he replied £40 which almost made my eyeballs pop out of my arse out of shock as I was expecting him to charge me hundreds. Before going to collect the bike I got the bus to the town so that I could deposit my cheque into the bank. The bank has gone through massive renovations with the row of cubicles with the bullet proof glass being replaced by…a single desk with a bloke behind it. It’s crazy because every time unused to go nun there is see a queue and one bank teller at one cubicle. So their way of dealing with this problem is to completely eliminate the other cubicles so that disgruntled customers can’t say “Why can’t you open another counter?” anymore since there are no other counters. I went to Yo Sushi and had some vegan chicken sushi which was lovely and I also popped into the market to buy some gloves since I left mine in the house and I didn’t want to ride my bike home with no gloves on as they would probably drop off from the cold by the time I got home. I got the bus back to Southwick and walked back down the hill to the bike place to pick up the old girl and the shop had done a great job as the footrest was firmly fixed back in and you couldn’t tell there was ever any damage to it. I also asked the guy if I needed to go to BDS to get it serviced every time or if I could just bring it to him and he said he’d be happy to service it when the time comes. Glad that’s sorted and next time it snows I’ll leave it until a good week after the last of it has gone just in case there’s a little shithead patch of ice that decides to stick around and make me slip off the bike again like last time.

Tuned into tonight’s Hollyoaks.

I was hoping that this year they'd start introducing interesting new characters but even I wasn't expecting a long lost McQueen who's a living Christmas tree!

There was some come comedy early on in the episode as Oscar gave Darren a cape with a big D on it and Darren spent the episode pretending to be a superhero. Oh I hope they do a storyline where Darren gets a head injury while wearing the cape and when he wakes up he believes he actually is a superhero. Later on Darren and Nancy had a bit of a talk outside the school gates and while they did an extra walked past carrying a chair into the school. Why? What was the point of that?

It always makes me laugh to see the unnecessary things they have extras do in TV shows. This extra must've turned up thinking they were going to be playing a pivotal role but they showed up and were told "We need you to carry this chair and don't show your face"

The bulk of the episode featured the culmination of the Eric the incel storyline. At the start of the episode Eric kidnapped Maxine, locked her in his caravan then headed to The Dog with his crossbow to carry out his manifesto. At the start of the show when Eric took Maxine to his family’s farmhouse which has been left abandoned for years what would Eric have done if he took Maxine to the cottage and there was a gang of smackheads with guns in there? The hostage crisis at The Dog where Eric took everyone inside prisoner was a little bit intense but not as intense as it should have been because Eric’s weapon of choice was a crossbow. Why would you choose something that takes 20 seconds to reload with you when taking a group of people hostage. Hell there was one moment where he was sat crouched down with the crossbow pointed at the floor. Why didn’t they all just rugby tackle him to the ground? The episode ended with Maxine arriving and calling Eric out for being a pathetic loser and Eric shot an arrow at her as a police swat team broke in and arrested the creepy bastard. As the episode ended I thought to myself  Maxine better not be dead or else I was done with Hollyoaks for good and my Twitter page was going to change to “Silly Home and Away Tweets” but in the tease for tomorrows episode we see that she is still alive so we’re good. This was a great episode and amazing culmination of this incel storyline but shame on the show for not actually giving Verity a funeral. Two years on the show (plus being unnecessarily killed off) and we don't even get a proper goodbye for her, they just go straight to the wake? Bullshit

[fortheloveoffanfic]

The Best Present

12 Days of Christmas Writing Event- Day 5

John Wick x Reader

Masterlist 12 Days of Christmas Writing Event Masterlist

Prompt 12- “This might be the best Christmas present I’ve ever gotten.”

Requested by anonymous

Warnings- none

White, fluffy flakes drifted to the ground at a pace so leisurely that it might have been ages before it got there. Snow had come earlier that year, gathering in undisturbed areas of the city and creating small mountains in some places, while simply blanketing other. It was a picturesque scene really; the ever busy streets and sidewalks of central New York were almost barren, allowing the snow to remain on the pavements, free of dirty shoe prints, or any of the regular city pollutants. From twenty stories up, Y/n could see it all so perfectly, and the city that she’d seen almost every day for years looked so beautifully at peace, a sharp contrast from its typical bustle, that it might have been a movie.

Spending Christmas at a hotel was never something she’d envisioned for herself, but neither she or John had any family that would beckon them elsewhere, so really, wherever they were, as long as they were together, they were home. At their house, on the sofa watching holiday movies, or dressed to the nines at a hotel, the place didn't matter as long as they had each other. “Hey,” she hadn’t heard him approaching, or noticed his reflection in the window, and so, Y/n jumped, “Sorry,” John chuckled smoothly, noting her suprise, “Brought you this,” snaking an arm around her waist, he offered her a glass filled with champagne.

“Thank you,” she grinned brightly, turning against him so she could stand on her toes and press a chaste peck to his cheeks, feeling his groomed scruff tickle her face. Kissing John, it was never something Y/n thought she could get bored of; the taste of him, the way his beard scratched her skin and the warmth of his mouth, she knew that she’d live happy if she could do it forever. She would do it forever. “I can’t believe we did it,” she giggled, melting against him, “Can you?”

“Believe that you are now my wife?” John smiled, an expression once so rare for him, but was now commonplace; Y/n brought that out in him, that softer side that smiled easily and reveled in the feeling of being that close to someone. “I really can’t, Mrs. Wick.”

Humming, she laughed again, reaching around his waist to hold John in a half hug as she clutched her glass close. The jacket from his suit had been discarded at the foot of the bed after they’d entered the room, leaving John in the navy shirt he’d bought specifically for the occasion. Likewise, Y/n had shed her cashmere trench, opting to stay in the simple, white sweater dress that acted as part of her low-key bridal ensemble. “That does have a ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” John agreed, bending his head to capture her lips once more, that time in a more fervent, passionate endearment. They’d just gone up to the room following the extremely small and very intimate ceremony, held downstairs at one of the hotel’s chapels. It had taken loads of convincing, and begging, to get the priest to marry them on, of all days, Christmas. To them though, it was ideal; neither of them had been privileged with the best holiday memories, so it was simply a way of making something so widely cherished special to them.

“To us,” he proposed a toast, “To getting married, and spending the rest of our lives together.”

Nuzzling her cheek against the silken fabric cladding the cozy warmth of his chest, she tipped her glass to his, a gentle clink erupting from the contact, “To us.” Putting the delicate flute to her lips, Y/n hummed delightedly at the bubbles dancing on her tongue. “You know,” she began after a moment of silence, “This might be the best Christmas present I’ve ever gotten,” Y/n glanced up at John, meeting her favorite pair of warm, rich eyes.

“Yeah? The wedding?” He punctuated with a doting peck on the crown of her head, “Or the champagne?” John chortled softly, his free hand smoothening affectionately up and down her waist.

“Neither,” Y/n quipped briskly, ending her words with a kiss on his jaw, “You. I get you, for the rest of our lives. You’re the best Christmas present ever.” Grinning, John bent his head, for a moment, just pressing his forehead to Y/n’s hair, and at the feel of his warmth enclosing her, she cuddled closer, “I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you too,” once more, John kissed her hair, then finding her lips, he returned, his mouth still pressed to hers, “You’re the best Christmas present I've ever gotten too.”

[dreamscapestars]

The Ultimate Reylo Fanfic List

* = highly recommend (aka if you’re going to read anything off this list read this)

Canonverse AUs

***All Our Days - E - 221k - "I can listen no longer in silence."The hologram projection of his strangely handsome face is cobalt blue, flickering, and full of static. "I must speak to you, Rey. You… you pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me that I am not too late.” He groans, runs his hands through his dark, silver-streaked hair, then refocuses his gaze on the holorecorder. “I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight and a half years ago. Do not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death."Here the recording of Ben takes a deep breath, and looks down at something outside the holorecorder’s field of view. Perhaps at his hands, Rey manages to think, through the veil of shock and timid, fluttering hope. She wishes she were there with him, so she could take them in her own, and offer him the confidence to carry on.But this is only a hologram, so she must wait. Eventually, when he looks up again, his features have settled. He looks… Fierce. Determined. Self-assured."I have loved none but you," he says. - canonverse jane austen au 

trillions of molecules - T - 11k - Fake papers forged, contract signed and a navy blue jumpsuit with his name printed on the chest supplied to him, the man who called himself Solo was hired by the Felucian Transit Corporation as shuttle operator number B414. - tros fix it au 

There Shall I Be - N/A - 50k -She remembers the first and only time she saw him smile like this before and how it didn’t touch his eyes at the time and how it broke her heart.Now it fills her heart and gives her life.She shoves him back onto their blanket and climbs on top of him. She pulls off her sweater and takes him inside her again and rides him into the night. - canonverse far from the madding crowd au

*landscape with a blur of conquerors - E - 362k - "While I share your contempt for this situation in which we find ourselves, do not mistake it as apathy," he hissed through gritted teeth, dark eyes burning. "I hardly expect your disposition to sweeten, but I will be damned if I allow my future Empress to behave in a manner that reflects poorly on me and on the First Order!""If you allow?" She wrenched her arm out of his viselike grasp, batting his hand away for good measure. "I don't belong to you. I don't belong to anyone.""That might have been the case back when you were a scavenger on that pitiful scrap heap of a planet, but now?" His sardonic gaze flickered over her silk robes and the jewels woven through her elaborate braids. "Now you are the Chume'da, and the Chume'da belongs to her people. Their fate is entirely in your hands. Should you cross the line, it is they who will suffer for it. Am I making myself clear?""I hate you," she said bitterly. He sneered at her. "See? Already you are acclimatizing so well to married life." - arranged marriage au

Modern AUs

*the man, the stallion, and the wind - E - 17k - Weary and alone, Rey barrels west on the Trans-Canada Hwy in her old pickup truck. Weary and in need of a lift, Ben Solo stands by the side of the road with his thumb out, in the hopes of hitching a ride.One hell of a winter storm’s about to roll in, leaving them stranded. What ever shall they do? - hitchhiker au 

The Mechanic - E - 122k - It's a magical midsummer night, just made for following a persuasive, dangerous-looking lawyer to a hotel across the road from the party. But then reality catches up to Rey. - mafia baby au

*Soul Searching - E - 205k - Sixteen-year-old Rey finds out she’s soulmates with her English teacher -- in front of her entire class. Now the school gossips won’t leave her alone, prying for tidbits that Rey wouldn’t give them even if she had any. And she doesn’t. Because Mr. Solo is too horrified at being soulmates with an underage girl to even talk to her. - soulmate au

Mitan, Midi - E - 83k - After a French notary contacts Rey to inform her she's inherited a house in the Drôme (France), she decides from one day to the next to quit her job and move there. The house is pretty secluded, there's no service, no internet, no way to reach other people aside from the landline in the living-room.Ideal conditions, by her standards, as those theoretically should allow her to be perfectly alone. Theoretically. - french country side au

*A Treehouse Covered in Salt - E - 34k -High school senior Rey Johnson has lived next door to Ben Solo her whole life. The two could not be more different and at school, Rey wouldn't be caught dead in his presence. That doesn't stop her from sneaking out to their treehouse every night. Despite her unwillingness to be friends with Ben in the light of day, he has always been there with her in the darkness. - high school au

Initial - M - 45k - A Soulmate AU in which you are born with the initials of your soulmate marked on the nape of your neck. Easy enough, right? Except for two people who don't use their real names. - soulmate au 

Killing Me Softly - M - 32k - Rey clings to the hope that her husband will regain his memories after he survived a car crash that left him with amnesia. During her monthly visits at a medical facility with Ben, who now calls himself Kylo, she struggles to cope as he tries to make her let go of the past, and in turn, him with it. - amnesia au 

only child of the universe - E - 98k - The first time Rey meets Ben, they're carefree strangers getting high at the fair, alight and in love for a night. The second time is different. The second time is in therapy— where the asshole won't even acknowledge her. - high school au 

a place to go - E - 52k - All Rey Johnson wanted was solitude. A place to go where she could escape from the daily stressors and mayhem of her job. A place where she could enjoy some peace and some quiet. Her mentor Luke Skywalker's small cabin up north seemed like the ideal place to do just that. A week of seclusion was just what she needed.And then Ben Solo arrived. - snowed in au 

into the great laughter of mankind - E - 30k - There is something about watching Rey put her mind to task. Ben can't put a name to this something, exactly— all he knows is that it fascinates him like nothing else has in a long, long time."Dr. Solo?" She glances over at him. "What do you think?"I think I'm doomed, he wants to say but doesn't. I think the curse of the pharaohs has nothing on you. I think you are my Egypt. - archaeologist au

(now it’s) Time to Learn - M - 86k - “You’re a teacher?” Ben doesn’t look like a teacher. At least not like any teacher Rey has ever had. - teacher au

For Now - E - 8k - There are plenty of things he could say, but he doesn’t. Buying you muffins makes me excited to get out of bed in the morning. I wish I could go back in time and be the kind of person you could like. I don’t remember my life before you. ---------- When Kylo finds his soulmate, she doesn’t know, and he doesn’t tell her. - soulmate au 

Cupcake Wars - E - 36k - Entirely by accident, Rey ends up fucking someone who works for Snoke's Cupcakery. She's just blowing off steam. It doesn't mean anything at all. It certainly won't come back to bite her in the ass. - bakery au

The Food of Love - E - 60k - Rey picked up her first violin at eleven, finding a mentor in conductor and former-violinist Luke Skywalker. With the First Chair up for grabs, Rey is thrust into the spotlight as the youngest violinist to take First Chair in the NY Pops. But Kylo Ren - former violinist, former NY Pops cellist, formerly Ben Solo child prodigy - may take issue with Rey Nobody sitting in his grandfather's chair. - orchestra au 

Orion - E - 14k - Rey Niima finds herself in the Saharan desert trying to heal wounds from her life, and Ben Solo is there too, fixing himself along the way. - roadtrip au

Embers - E - 34k - All the myriad things he’d been—someone who made her laugh; the warmth on the other side of the bed; her best friend—those things, Rey had buried. Rey left Ben two years, three months, and sixteen days ago. But who's counting? - getting back together au 

Gilded - M - 11k - Everyone had two marks, one for class and another to identify a soulmate. She only had one: green rings on her finger, proof she was part of the laboring class. It made matters lonely, but never unbearable.Until she met him. He had two sets of marks—had a soulmate—and she did not. - soulmate au

flutz - E - 27k - Rey was determined to have no distractions during her first season in Senior Ladies figure skating.She swore that Olympic medalist and figure skating legend Ben Solo was not going to change that, no matter how intent he seemed on proving her wrong. - ice skater au 

oh autumn, oh teakettle, oh grace - E - 30k - "So let me get this straight," he says. "You're a dryad.""Quite so," she cheerfully replies."Like an actual—" His hand rises to make a feeble gesture at the towering elms that surround them— "tree-dwelling, speaks-with-animals, has-magical-powers, frolics-through-the-woods-in-orgiastic-pagan-frenzy dryad?"She wrinkles her delicately freckled nose. "Well, I don't know about orgiastic frenzy, that's really more of a maenad type of deal."He looks her up and down, taking in her pretty face and her slender figure in the skimpy white dress."Too bad," he mumbles. - dryad roadtrip au

A Proposal by Any Other Name - E - 188k - Rey and Finn have been A Thing for a long time now. Since she was eighteen, to be exact. When Finn leaves on a trip to Europe for six months for work, Rey finally chases after him to Dublin to do what he seems to be putting off: propose.She wants a family, after all.The universe has different ideas. Her flights are delayed, storms hit, she loses her tickets and everything seems to be going horribly. To top it off, she ends up stranded around a rather irritating man by the name of Kylo Ren. It goes about as well as you'd expect. - leap year au

endless summer afternoon - E - 63k - “My son's room is always made up,” Han had said, hitting a light switch as Rey clung to a dirty backpack in the dark hallway, “he never comes home. Warm bed might as well get some use.”Rey spared Han some of the dignity of his own longing assessment of the space that clearly hadn’t been looked at in a long time. An empty room in a quiet house. As gruff as he was, handing it off to some runaway nobody just because she was helping him rebuild a car was one of the kindest gestures she’d ever experienced, and had a hidden weight that she knew needed a respectful amount of privacy. Mysteries were often about unresolved sadness, and were usually only solved by the people who didn’t feel it.Rey is offered a place to stay: a spare bedroom once belonging to the mysterious Ben Solo. What does she do when she wakes up with him wanting his bed back? - roommates au 

Dandelion - E - 45k - Rey's an ex con and orphan, just released from jail after killing Plutt. She follows advice from her former guardian, Maz, and finds a job at Luke's coffee shop. Ben's a lawyer who lost his job and moved back to his hometown. He falls for Rey, unaware of her dark past. - coffee shop au

A Few Small Repairs - E - 69k - Ben Solo is a ruthless property developer, and Rey Johnson is the lone holdout on the block. She does not intend to give up what's hers, not for anything. (Not even for a pair of pretty eyes.) - property developer au

Unbroken - E - 7k - He found her sleeping in the stables, curled up in the stall of his newest, unbroken colt...

Lockjaw - M - 106k - Kylo finds Rey unconscious and near death on the side of a road, surrounded by twitching, wretched things looking to her for their next meal. Ever the altruist, he picks them off and takes her with him, saving her life in the process. It's no wonder that when she wakes she feels she owes him, and agrees to become his travel companion as he crosses the United States in search of safety and a new home. - zombie apoclypse au 

Everything to Prove - M - 13k - “The show,” he says. “It’s probably best if they don’t—if we don’t—”And Rey follows his line of thought at once. For all the program is one that doesn’t seem melodramatic—the height of drama in previous seasons came from someone’s cake falling over and that was about it—she does not doubt that the producers and cameramen would leap at the opportunity to make there be something out of nothing in their relationship—especially if there was something out of something.“Yeah,” she agrees. “Yeah, probably. We can pick baking stations that are…” but she doesn’t want to complete the thought. She likes baking next to Ben.“Or we can just be careful?” he suggests, sounding quite as pained by the prospect as Rey feels.“Yeah, careful. I can do careful,” Rey says at once and her lips are on his again and he’s laughing now, and she’s laughing, and she didn’t think laughter would be part of all this. She didn’t think it could be. But here she is, laughing and kissing and holding a man who, at some point, she’s going to want to beat.She does her best not to think of that now.It’s a friendly competition, after all. It’s not life and death. It’s baking. - great british bake off au 

*In Bloom - E - 13k - The flowers that bedeck her skin don’t lie—ballet dancer Rey is in love with her partner, Ben. But the years go by and his skin stays resolutely, devastatingly blank.He doesn’t love her. But when his hands are on her body, she can pretend. - ballet soulmates au

By Blood and Flame - E - 10k - Rey can’t go to her professors with this spell. She needs help, though, needs someone to do the spell with her, and she needs the best because it’s tricky. Dangerous.There’s a boy on campus. Powerful. Mysterious. He’s admired and envied, feared and loathed, depending on who’s talking, but for all everyone knows his story, no one seems to really know him. And Rey… Rey has been curious about him for… well, for longer than she wants to admit.She’s not sure if it’s good or bad luck that he’s the perfect person to help cast her spell. - magic college au

count the rings - E - 63k - “Because you’re sitting there all comfy, not looking at all bridal-” “I’ll just fetch the veil out of my backpack, shall I?” “-when you could be, you know, making a move on that fine-ass tree.” In which camping comes with unexpected consequences. - accidental marriage au

(won’t you let me) walk you home from school - E - 129k - Ben, a counselor in the upper school at the legendary Alliance Academy, keeps finding himself interacting with the lower school art teacher, Rey. He definitely doesn’t like it. - teacher au

follow in your form - E - 23k - Ben Solo wakes up paralyzed and angry about it.A story about dealing with change, holding onto hope, and finding love. - quadriplegic ben au 

*screwdriver - M -101k - Rey is a bright-eyed intern on her first campaign trail, Ben is an irritated data analyst, and how difficult can it be to get a legacy senator elected president? Apparently fucking impossible. - political au

9 pints - E - 83k - She knew next to nothing, and Google was largely unhelpful. All of her searches (“vampire sex rules” and “vampire dos and don’ts” and one very self-indulgent “average vampire cock size big?”) linked her to dated top ten lists written by anyone other than an actual vampire.Twenty minutes of frustrated scrolling eventually led her to a supernatural dating forum. The website was horribly aged, but still active. Questions were tagged, which meant that it was easy to narrow down her search. Vampire, she clicked, and Sex.--In which Rey gets suckered into shooting porn with one of Poe's pickiest vampire actors. - magical porn stars au

fine young cannibals - E - 27k - Kylo raised his head to the sky as he inhaled, his broad chest expanding even wider. His eyes fluttered shut, savoring the scent like a sumptuous meal. He grinned.“Oh,” he murmured, so softly Rey wasn’t even sure it was meant for her ears. His eyes slid to meet hers, scarlet and violent and hungry. “You brought a snack.”And then all hell broke loose.About three things, Rey is absolutely positive:First, she is totally, completely, and madly in love with her vampire boyfriend, Poe.Second, there is another vampire—an older, evil, definitely-not-hot vampire—that thirsts for her blood and wants nothing more than to kill her.And third, she is maybe not absolutely positive about either of these things. - twilight au

Epithumia - E - 46k- ἐπιθυμία, ας, ἡ: epithumia : desire, passionate longing, lust *** “No extra credit.” He made a noise that might have been a laugh. “You ask that every time.” “Well, I have to try.” Rey said, weakly. “Can you make an exception?” A lone eyebrow ascended his lofty forehead into his hairline. “Try harder, Miss Kenobi.” - college teacher/student au

Historical AUs (ranging from medieval to the early 2000s)

light carries on endlessly - M - 6k - “Traitor,” he told Cerberus gruffly not too much later, using both hands to scratch behind the hound’s many ears. What appeared to be a rat tail lay nearby on a blood-stained bit of stone. “What did I tell you about women with pretty eyes?”One wet tongue lapped at his wrist, and he sighed. “Right. Nothing.” - Hades and Persephone au 

The Witch in the Wood - E - 138k - As a knight errant of the kingdom of Alderaan, Kylo Ren has traveled the country, completing quest after perilous quest in search of redemption for the dark deeds of his past. When an evil witch captures the princess of a neighboring kingdom, Kylo reluctantly accepts the burden of rescue with the assumption that it will be a simple task.It is not. For the creature that lives in the woods is not a monster at all.Since her mentor died, Rey has lived in the witch’s tree and uses magic to maintain the balance of the forest. Her life is practical, repetitive, and simple—at least, until a wrathful knight thunders through her door and levels a sword at her throat. Yet something within the knight calls to her, a buzz beneath his skin that she recognizes.Without a doubt, he is not who he appears to be. - medieval witch au

Black Knight, White Queen - E - 53k - Luke Skywalker wrote his sister a letter on his deathbed, revealing that his ward is the orphaned heir of a family long thought extinct - and politically powerful. That letter fell into the wrong hands, and the secret of Rey's heritage is secret no more. The Emperor has managed to unite the Kingdoms, but he is old, and his son is weak. Seeking to ensure his son's claim to his throne, he sends his most trusted captain to bring the girl - willing or not - to be his son's bride. Rey is taken from her far-flung home, and plunged into a world of court intrigue, arranged marriage, political rivals, and would-be assassins - the black knight her constant companion and bodyguard. But even he, her dark shadow and protector, she cannot know whether to trust... - medieval bodyguard au 

Days to Remember - E - 42k - A man heads home after years of estrangement. What do you need from me? A woman leaves her world behind, a bird in a gilded cage. When we get to New York, I need help running away. -- I'll bring you to Boston with me. - titanic au 

*what if the storm ends - E - 61k - As a child, Rey is evacuated from London to the Yorkshire Dales during the Blitz. She spends the war in the care of the Solos on their farm, wandering the moors with their son looking for a legendary family artifact long lost. When the war is over, she returns to a city she no longer recognizes, and she writes a popular series of children's fantasy books based on her childhood in the Dales. After amassing fame and fortune with her stories, tragedy brings her back to the farm to see Ben Solo, once her greatest inspiration and now a widower. - post WWII au 

Take Me - E - 39k - Every night, at 8:30 pm, Rey and Ben get on stage and pretend to be in love with each other. At 9:15, they walk off stage and the actual fireworks begin. - 60s country singers au

I could have been wild, I could have been free (but nature played a trick on me) - M - 61k - “Did you know that I did not even learn your name until yesterday, when I married you?”His face flushed a darker red than it had at breakfast, and he attempted to defend himself with incompetent stammering, “I—I regret that. The situation, of course, would have been,” he wrung his hands together and stared at her feet, “It would have been preferable if we had known one another more. On several occasions, I did attempt to make myself known to you, but you seemed to have other preoccupations.”Rey could feel her face contorting into a sneer to spit out her barbed words, “Perhaps that was your cue not to marry me!” - regency arranged marriage au 

Patch - M - 20k - He is nineteen when he first sees her.She comes to the rink alone, laces her skates alone, strokes warm-up circles alone...He looks at her, really looks her in the eye, and he decides he likes what he sees.She may be young, but she is hungry and angry, and for now? That’s enough for him.It’s not like he has a lot of options. - 80 russian ice skaters au 

*The Great Big No - E - 165k - Kylo Ren is third generation rock royalty, a reigning brat prince starting to feel the burn of the fame he reached for with both hands. Rey is an aspiring singer on the verge of a big break, provided her A&R guy still has a job by the time she reaches LA. Their paths have crossed briefly, disappointingly, before. What happens when they collide? - 90s rock au

***go I know not whither and fetch I know not what - E - 119k - The year is 1994. The Iron Curtain has come down, the oligarchs have begun their rise to power, and Kyril Ren, a powerful member of the infamous crime syndicate Solntsevskaya Bratva, has been given a job: hunt down an estranged uncle who has been snitching to the FBI.Irena, nicknamed Rey by her adoptive father Luke, is a Krav Maga instructor in New York who has finally been able to obtain her original birth certificate from Russia. Turns out she was born in a little village named Vershinino, but if she wants to know more than that… she’s going to have to go there herself. - 90s russian mafia au 

we could plant a house, we could build a tree - E -124k - Ben takes a deep breath. “It’s—it’s a project. Conceptual art. You wouldn’t get it.”Rey presses her lips together to keep from laughing. She plans her next words quickly and carefully, determining what will get her the best reaction. “Really? Looks like you ruined a bedsheet to me.”His reaction does not disappoint. “Get out.” ** Seven-year-old Rey decides it's her duty to annoy the crap out of Ben Solo every single day she's alive. - 90s growing up together artist au

[starlightrows]

Something Sweet

Chapter 1 - Spring Festival Funnel Cakes

← Previous - Next →

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Modern!Paz Vizsla x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: None!

Summary: Spring has sprung and business is booming and the community is celebrating with a weekend long festival... that you get to spend attending a vendors booth next to the handsome baker from down the street

The depths of winter in a place where it snows is not the ideal time to be moving your whole life and business. But you didn’t have much of a choice, you had already gotten the business license taken care of, the storefront purchased, and suppliers lined up. And with the lease on your apartment being up, it’s now or never. So with a small moving truck full of your belongings all packed up, you set off towards the city to finally chase your dream of opening a flower shop.

Your new apartment is nice, a bit smaller than your previous one but that comes with living alone in the city on a tight budget. But still it’s a one bedroom and it’s enough for just you. The storefront is beautiful. It’s located downtown in what you had assumed was a historic district of the city, but somehow is not classified as such. The buildings are lovely red brick exterior with large open windows for passers by to peek in, with quaint awnings over every door. Your store is located on the corner, with plenty of space to set up floral displays and hang potted plants in the windows. Come spring time this is going to be amazing, and beautiful and everything you dreamed of. You just hoped that others would think so too and come shop there.

By the time mid February rolls around there is still snow in the mountains, and the occasional rain and snow storm that blows through the area but it’s not as bad as when you first moved. Your apartment is coming along nicely, and your store is looking pretty good as well. You’re hoping to open by March 1st, but that’s still two and half weeks away. You’ve got plenty of time to finish painting, assembling shelves, figuring out how to want to arrange your displays, and set up the black board you’re planning to use to decorate the wall behind the checkout counter. You thought it might be fun to use chalk paint to decorate it for the various seasons, write specials, and do holiday countdowns.

You’re a little frustrated with yourself that you weren’t able to get everything in order to be open this weekend. Valentine’s Day is the prime time of the year for a flower and botanical shop. But spring is coming and that means birthdays, weddings, prom season, graduations, date nights, Mother’s Day and spring decorating! But for today it’s just you, a pair of worn overalls and a sweater, and a little can of paint for detailing the floor boards inside the shop. No flowers or valentines dates for you this year. You did see that there was a nice looking bakery a little ways down the street, maybe you could pick up a little treat for after dinner or some nice bread for making fancy toast.

Just the thought of it makes your mouth water, and your tummy rumble. Maybe you could make it an afternoon snack instead. You cap the lid to the paint bucket, and wash off your hands in the sink in the back. It’s not actively snowing but it is freezing outside, so you pull your jacket on over your sweater and lock the shop up behind you. You steal a quick glance at it, admiring how well it’s coming along, before you tuck your hands into your pockets and make your way down the street to the bakery.

It’s getting on in the afternoon, and the bakery isn’t very busy at the moment. But you’ve seen the lines in the morning when the bread is fresh out of the ovens, hopefully there will be something left for you.

You pull the door to the bakery open and step inside, glancing up at the sound of the tinkling bell that alerts the man behind the counter to your presence. He’s probably the tallest, broadest, burliest man you’ve ever seen; and then he smiles at you. It’s a smile that takes up his whole face, and lights up his eyes.

“Hey, welcome in” his voice is deep and sweet. You can literally feel your heart skip a beat and you almost forget why you came in here.

“Hi, I was hoping you might have some pastries or baguettes” you say, approaching the counter. He seems to blank out for a second, because he doesn’t answer you immediately.

“Uh- no sorry no pastries. But I do have a couple of French baguettes left,” he says. You’re a little disappointed about the pastries, perhaps you needed to come in earlier in the day. He pulls a baguette from the bread counter and offers it to you in a long parchment bag.

While he rings up your bread, you take the time to look around at his displays and other breads. “What’s your specialty?” You find yourself asking, thoroughly impressed with the wide variety he has to offer.

“I’m really proud of my ciabatta rolls,” he says earnestly “but I’ve been working on a new roasted tomato and herb crusted bread that excited about,”

You smile at his enthusiasm, it’s great to see people who are passionate about their craft. “I’ll have to come back and try it when you’ve got it figured out,”

You thank the kind man, and step back out into the cold to make your way back to your shop. Instantly you regret not asking for his name, but then again he just works down the street you’ll find out eventually.

———

February passed by in an overcast and sometimes snowy daze. You are able to meet your deadline and open your new store on March 1st. It’s finally a little sunnier on your opening weekend and just that simple fact has people outside and milling about. People are anxious to usher in spring, and there is no better way to brighten up the tail end of winter than by having fresh flowers, lush green house plants and aesthetically pleasing succulents around to decorate your space. Your entire store front is practically picked bare by the end of your first day! Good thing you get fresh deliveries every day, and have a fully stocked back room to replace all your wares for tomorrow.

Business slows down just a touch, but you’ve still got steady foot traffic for most of the day all through the spring. The weather is warming up, and the days are getting longer. Prom season is coming up and you’ve already pre cutting ribbon and bulk ordering corsage boxes. Graduations will be coming up soon too, you make sure to mark on your calendar when the local schools ceremonies are so you can have bouquets and lei ready in time.

One warm afternoon in April it’s a little slow and you’ve already swept the store, washed the windows inside and out, and potted 15 new plants in the back; so you take a well deserved break by standing behind the counter and reading a book. The bell on the door chimes and you look up to see a woman wearing jeans and a polo shirt with the city logo embroidered on the chest.

“Hi my name is Jennifer I’m with the city’s Parks and Recreation department,” she introduces herself and offers her hand to shake. You smile and accept her hand, giving your name as well.

“I’m stopping by all the local businesses to give you this” she hands you a flyer “the city’s annual spring festival is coming up at the end of May. Traditionally we bring in food trucks and invite arts and crafts vendors from the area to come sell their pieces and get some exposure, in the last couple years we’ve been expanding it to other local businesses too. There’s more information on the website to sign up to get you a booth if you’re interested. I think having a plants and flowers booth would be perfect for the spring festival”

She stays to chat about the festival for a couple minutes describing how fun it is to see all the local artists showing their craft, children getting their faces painted, live music, picnicking, and coming together as a community to celebrate the change in seasons.

“This city really comes alive at community events,” she tells you “Free concerts in the park in the summer, cultural learning events, fun runs, around the holidays we have a big Christmas tree lighting ceremony and winter carnival, don’t even get me started on how much this city goes all out for Halloween!”

Jennifir leaves after another couple minutes of excited chatter about the various events put on by the city, and continues on down the street to invite your business neighbors to attend the festival as vendors too. The whole interaction leaves you thrilled at the opportunity to advertise your business, make some more money for the shop, and be part of the community! Your long forgotten book is tucked away in favor of pulling out your laptop to register yourself with the city planning committee to participate in the festival.

The next few weeks you work extra hard to get through prom season, and put in more hours than usual to get everything prepared for graduations as well. The days tick by in May. Mother’s Day is an amazing weekend, you put up a temporary photo shoot wall for mom’s, daughters, grandmothers, or really anyone to come in and take a picture with a flower wall backdrop. Another amazing success full of happy smiling people!

Finally the weekend of the festival arrives, people from the city have been cleaning up the park and working their tails off to get everything perfect for the event. A massive stage is erected in the park, the usual parking lots are lined with enclosed pop up tents for the vendors selling hot foods, extra trash cans are placed everywhere, and early Saturday morning the local businesses are arriving with their SUV’s and vans full of goods to set up their tables.

You are among that crowd. Busily working to get your table set up under a pop up tent for shade, your flowers and potted plants ready for display, making sure you have enough cash for making change in transactions, and cardboard boxes to help people carry their new plant babies home with them.

All around you other local businesses are setting up their booths too. You recognize a few of them that you’ve visited already, but you’re looking forward to seeing more of them. Beside you, you absolutely recognize the tall, broad, and exceptionally handsome man that owns the bakery down the street from you. Spending the whole weekend stuck next to eye candy, and artisan bread… even if you didn’t sell a single flower this weekend at least you’d have a good view.

The morning is warming up, people will be arriving soon, your coffee long since gone. You steal a glance over at the man carefully arranging his bread displays. He glances over at you too, and grins at catching you staring.

“Morning,” he says cheekily

“Good morning,” you reply, going a bit warm in the cheeks.

“Flower booth for a spring festival? I think you’re in the running for making the most profit this weekend,” he jokes looking at your pretty flower displays and cute potted plants. You laughed a little and eyed his selection of breads hungrily

“I dunno, people don’t want to carry around a heavy plant all day. But they do want to snack on some delicious bread,”

He laughs, and extends a hand to introduce himself. “I’m Paz by the way,”

You shake his large hand and tell him your name as well. It’s a firm handshake, worn hands and strong forearms presumably from kneading bread dough. The thought makes your tummy flutter, and your heartbeat quicken.

And so it begins. The two of you pull up chairs at the edges of your pop up tents, and spend the whole day laughing, talking, interacting with customers and making sales. At the end of the first day, he sends you home with a loaf of bread with Asiago cheese baked into the top, and you gift him a pretty green succulent and promise him they are almost impossible to screw up taking care of.

The second day of the festival is much the same, except this time he brings you a breakfast sandwich he prepared ahead of time.

“If you wouldn’t mind, I need a taste tester. I’ve been thinking about expanding my menu to add breakfast sandwiches,” he tells you with a shy smile. You gladly accept the sandwich and have to control yourself not to make embarrassing noises when you taste it.

“You made this from scratch?” You ask, taking another bite

“Well I made the bun,” he says, unwrapping his own homemade breakfast sandwich

“If you start selling this, I promise you’ll put places like Starbucks out of business,” you tell him “honestly, I’m gonna have to start coming down there every morning before I open,”

In his head, Paz thinks that would be an absolute dream to have you come see him everyday. But that’s not the kind of thing you tell someone you met 24 hours ago, so he settles for something else instead

“How far is your shop? Maybe you can have your breakfast delivered,”

“You didn’t know?” You ask “I just opened my shop on the far corner of the street your bakery is on. I actually came in to try your bread a couple months ago,”

Paz is a little embarrassed, he knew a business moved in down there but had no idea it was your flower shop. “No way! I remember you coming in to the bakery, but I had no idea you worked down the street,”

“To be fair the store wasn’t open yet, and I somehow managed to forget to introduce myself,” you tell him.

Just like the day before, the two of you spend the day laughing and chatting in between greeting customers and promoting your respective businesses.

In the early afternoon a man with shaggy dark hair, sun glasses, tattoos and a very cute little boy wearing a green bucket hat came over and started making conversation with Paz. He glanced over at you.

“Have you met Din yet?” Paz asks you “He owns the tattoo parlor across from the bakery,”

You smile and shake his hand, you see his little boy eyeing your selection of plants. “Do you want to pick one out buddy?” You ask the little boy, he nods enthusiastically and chooses a little pot with the beginnings of a strawberry plant in it.

“Shorty and I were just gonna go grab some funnel cake before we head home for nap, I just stopped by to see if you wanted some,” Din says

“Yeah, that would be great!” Paz says.

Din turns to you, and extends the same offer. You politely decline, claiming there’s no way you’d ever finish one on your own.

“You can split one with me,” Paz beams. Din nods and leads his son off into the crowd to acquire the sweet treats.

“I can’t believe you haven’t met everyone yet,” Paz says “We all get together on Tuesday nights after hours for beers,”

“Who is we exactly?” You ask, sitting back down in the folding chair the festival committee had generously provided.

“Most of the shop owners on our street, and a couple of others from around the corner. They actually convinced me to move out here and start my business a couple years ago,”

“I had no idea there was such a community amongst the business owners around here,” you admit.

“You’ve gotta come meet everyone next week,” he insists “You’ll fit right in!”

Your heart warms at the sentiment. One of your big fears moving to the city was not knowing anyone and struggling to find a new group of friends. This could be promising!

Din and his son make their way back and come sit behind the tables with you and Paz. You and Paz do split the funnel cake, and have a grand time chatting with Din and his little boy.

“You’re telling me you’ve been in business for three months and haven’t been dragged into the group? You’ve gotta start coming to Tuesday night drinks,” Din laughs

“So I’ve been told. I think you boys have convinced me, I’ll be there on Tuesday,” you laugh. Paz and Din give a little cheer.

“Everyone will be so excited to meet you! But until then I think the little stinker needs to get home for a nap,” Din says scoops up his sleepy son who’s been dozing in his dad’s lap for the last 15 minutes “I’ll see you Tuesday,”

Din gives a one handed wave and disappears back into the crowd.

The remainder of the afternoon is a bit slower, the last remaining festival

“I’ll come down and pick you up so you don’t have to show up on your own,” Paz offers “Besides I need to check out your shop!”

“Awe! Thank you, that would be great!” You reply, a subtle warmth blooming in your cheeks at the thought of him coming to visit your shop.

Your heart does somersaults in your chest. He’s so sweet and kind. And he’s inviting you to be part of his friend group. That has to be a good sign, right?

Taglist: @maybege @gallowsjoker @simping-for-clones @mxndoscyarika @hayley-the-comet

AN: This whole story, but this chapter specifically is very special to me. The city this story takes place in is based off of the two cities I have lived in, in my life. I grew up going to festival that takes place in late spring, that’s really important to the town I was born and grew up in... and the new city that I moved to as an adult is known for its public markets on Saturday’s where local vendors sell their flowers and their baked goods. I am just days away from moving back to my home city (temporarily) and due to covid I didn’t have the opportunity to attend the public market the last two years in a row. I don’t know if I’ll get to participate in the spring festival in my hometown this year.

[alwaysfeelingsaintlike]

Dancing in the Dark [G.W]

Description: You and George work to make Fred and Angelina’s wedding absolutely perfect, while planning your future together in the process

Pairing: George Weasley x fem!reader 

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: I wanted to take a quick minute to thank @theweasleysredhair for giving me some advice on starting up this blog! I’m really excited to share some more of my works and I hope you all enjoy them. Please go check out her writing!

                                                           X

“George let’s go! We’re going to be late!” You looked at the clock and waited precisely five seconds before barging into the room.

“What could possibly be taking you so long?” You asked him. You found George in the bedroom with an open suitcase and his wand, packing all his belongings at the last minute. “You told me you packed last night,” you said sternly.

“Well I did. But then I felt I needed to add to my luggage a bit. Just in case.”

“You’re even more high maintenance than I am,” you joked.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” he smiled at you. He finally finished up his packing and he walked over to you, embracing you in a tight hug.

“You may have mentioned it a few times. Lucky for you I never get tired of hearing it.” You gave him a peck on the lips and then went to gather your belongings.

“Now we really need to go. We’re already late and something tells me we’re one step away from getting kicked out of the wedding party.”

“Whatever you say, my lady.” He grabbed your hand and you apparated to the Burrow. It wasn’t the ideal time for a wedding, but it was something everyone needed. Fred and Angelina were set on getting married and they were so in love that they didn’t want to wait.

You had grown particularly close to Angelina over the past few months considering you were living together. You ended up moving in with George after finishing at Hogwarts and Ang was living in the apartment, staying in Fred’s room. It was a small space for four people, but you made it work and had fun being cramped. After the wedding, Angelina and Fred were planning to move out and get their own place (somewhere spacious to raise all the children they planned on having). You were sad seeing them leave, but you and George were excited to finally have the place to yourselves. 

You arrived in the kitchen of the Burrow right as breakfast was being served.

“Y/N! Darling!” Mrs. Weasley said, shuffling over to give you a big hug.

“Yeah, don’t mind me. It’s not like I’m your son or anything,” George remarked.

“Oh hush you,” she said, swatting him with a tea towel before hugging him.  

Everyone at the table got up to greet you. Everyone was staying at the Burrow for the weekend, since the wedding was to take place there. You were impressed when Fleur actually remembered your name after meeting you for what seemed like the hundredth time. Mrs. Weasley pulled up two seats at the table and you sat and ate while she sent your bags upstairs. Everyone seemed pleasant and conversation flowed easily, but you could still feel a little bit of tension in the room. For one, Harry barely said a word. Harry was usually quiet, but this was something else. George had mentioned that the three of them weren’t returning to Hogwarts for their 7th year and you couldn’t say you blamed them. Snape had been instated as Headmaster and everything about that seemed awful.  Soon everyone finished eating and you went out back for a friendly game of quidditch.

                                                             X

The day had gone by pretty quickly (the Burrow always had stuff going on, which made time move fast) and soon enough it was dark out. Technically, the night before the wedding day was reserved for some sort of bachelor/bachelorette festivities, but nothing wild was planned. All the girls were staying in Ginny’s room for the night, aside from Fleur who was staying with Bill, and you all decided to drink and have a girls’ night.

You supplied firewhiskey and Fleur had contributed a few bottles of “ze finest wine in France.” You were not planning on getting that drunk, considering tomorrow was a big day for Angelina, and as Maid of Honor, you had to make sure everything went according to plan. Ginny and Hermione let the alcohol get the best of them and went to bed relatively early. Fleur left to be with Bill, which left you and Ang. She told you about how excited she was to get married and how she knew she was making the right decision and everything. You couldn’t have been any happier for her and once your talk ended, you suggested going to bed to get some sleep before the big day tomorrow.

By the sounds of her light snoring, Angelina fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow and that left you alone with your thoughts. You were truly thrilled for her and Fred. But it was hard not to compare their relationship to yours. You and George started dating before they did; yet they were the ones getting married. You didn’t doubt your relationship with George for a minute, but it did make you think. You had never really discussed the future in detail. After lying awake for what seemed like hours, you decided to go down to the kitchen for a glass of water and maybe a snack.

You slipped down the stairs as quietly as you could, careful not to wake anyone. You heard some shuffling coming from the kitchen, but you assumed it was the ghoul in the attic rattling the pipes or something. You were surprised to find a ginger figure walking around the kitchen looking for food. You thought about sneaking up on him, but the minute you reached the bottom step he turned around.

“Hey darling,” he said, kissing you on the forehead. “What are you doing down here so late?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Stressed about tomorrow, eh?” he asked.

“No, it’s not that I don’t think. I just have a lot on my mind.” 

You took a seat at the kitchen table and he brought over a plate of biscuits and a tall glass of milk to share, which was exactly what you needed.

“What are you thinking about love?” he half-smiled.

“Just overanalyzing things as usual,” you sighed, taking a bite out of a biscuit.

“Meaning?”

“You’re happy with the way things are going between us, right?”

He looked at you a little concerned. “Well yeah, I couldn’t be happier. Are you happy?”

“Yes, of course I’m happy. It’s just all this wedding stuff is making me think about the future and we haven’t really ever discussed that and I’m just worried we aren’t on the same page.”

“Tell me what you want,” he replied, “for the future.”

“I…I mean I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it in detail…” you trailed.

“Just tell me what you want, anything and everything that you want, and I’ll make it happen,” he said softly. He gently picked up your hands and looked deeply into your eyes. You weren’t sure you had ever seen him this serious. 

“All I want is to be with you,” you said, matching his eye contact. He took your hands and pulled you to his side of the table, where you found a seat on his lap. “I think that can be arranged,” he purred while pulling you towards him even further, into a deep and passionate kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him closer to you. He countered your move by squeezing you even tighter and making you feel even more loved. You parted shortly and you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Just so you know, you essentially just turned over all the wedding decisions to me,” he smirked.

“Oh did I?”

“You did. That was your opportunity to demand your perfect wedding and you failed to do so. Therefore, I get to plan the wedding. I’m thinking…an outdoor winter wedding, right in front of the Whomping Willow.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. And I will make sure it snows, since I know how much you love snow.” It was obvious he was messing with you, since he knew you didn’t enjoy the cold and the snow, as well as the deranged willow tree. Instead of getting all pouty like he expected you to react, you decided to surprise him.

“As long as I get to marry you, then I don’t care.” Your words had indeed surprised him. His grin spread from ear to ear and you couldn’t help but kiss him.

“Don’t worry love, I’ll make sure our wedding is perfect.”

“Okay, I’ll hold you to that. Might be hard to top Fred and Ang though.”

“I think we can do it. You know, I was planning to propose to you a few months ago, about the same time when Fred and Angelina got engaged. But I didn’t want to steal his thunder and I didn’t want you to think I proposed just because Fred did.” His statement made you giddy. It all just became so much more real. The fact that he had actually almost planned a proposal was reassuring and you knew you’d get your happy ending.

“Really?” you smiled, excitedly.

“Yes really.”

“Weren’t striving for the double wedding?”

“Definitely not. I want our wedding to be ours. I don’t want to share that day with anyone.”

“You really are saying all the right things. What are you trying to get at here? I can’t reward you in the way you want to be rewarded. Not here and now.”

“But you will keep this in mind when we return to the apartment, right?”

You chuckled, “Maybe. If you behave.”

“Now when do I ever behave?” he grinned. You ruffled his hair and kissed him on the cheek.

By this point the biscuits and milk were gone. You waved your wand and sent the dirty dishes over to the sink, where you magically cleaned them.

“Ready for bed? Got all your thinking out of the way?”

“I think so. It is pretty late and tomorrow’s going to be a long day.” 

He put his arm around you and you walked up the stairs. Ginny’s room was the first bedroom on the way up, but once you reached the door, George walked right past it.  

“Um, I think this is my stop,” you said, as he continued walking.

“No it isn’t,” he insisted. George grabbed your hand and started pulling you up the stairs. “You’re staying with me.”

“Don’t do this to me. What if we get caught? Your parents will hate me.”

“One: my parents could never hate you. They love you more than they love me. And two: when do I ever get caught?” The latter of the two points was definitely true. It wasn’t a hard decision to make and you gave in moments later.

You scurried up the stairs, as quietly as possible. The door opened with a slight creak, but Fred was out cold and did not wake.

The two of you tip-toed over to George’s bed and he got in, sliding over toward the wall to give you ample room. George’s bed was a twin, which was smaller than you were used to, but you can’t say that you minded. It just meant you could snuggle closer with him. He put his arm around you and you rested your head on his chest. He kissed you on the forehead and whispered, “You’re perfect. Don’t ever change.”

“I won’t if you won’t,” you responded. 

“I love you Y/N.”

“I love you too, Georgie.” It wasn’t long before you drifted off to sleep.

                                                          X

You woke up the next morning with George snoring softly beside you. The sun was just starting to rise, so it must’ve been early. Fred was still asleep so this was the perfect time to stage your escape. You nudged George gently and he opened his eyes and smiled at you. “Well isn’t this a beautiful sight to wake up to,” he said, voice stale from sleep. “Stop trying to charm me. You’re making it harder to leave.”

“Don’t leave me,” he pouted.

“It’ll just be for a couple of hours. I don’t want to get in trouble, or get you in trouble. Come down and grab me on your way to breakfast.”

“Yes darling.” You kissed him on the cheek and ran your fingers through his hair. He held your hand in his, in what you assumed was an attempt to get you to stay, and he looked at you lovingly. You swiftly hopped out of bed and blew him a kiss before leaving the room. The staircase seemed clear and you snuck back to Ginny’s room without being caught. Hermione and Ginny were still passed out, so you decided to brew a bit of a hangover cure for the two of them to make the morning a bit more pleasant. You crawled into bed and planned to sleep for another hour or two when you heard your name. It was Angelina. She clearly had been tossing and turning all night and you couldn’t blame her.

“Were you with George last night?” she whispered.

You tried to hide your smile and shrugged, “It’s possible. Now hush and get some more sleep. Today’s a big day for you. You need to preserve your energy.” She shook her head and curled up into a ball under the covers. You closed your eyes for a moment and suddenly you were dozing off.

                                                           X

You awoke to a figure sitting on your bed and stroking your spine with a gentle touch that almost tickled. You opened your eyes and found George waiting for you. Everyone else was gone and you suspected they had gone downstairs to grab a bite to eat. George helped you out of bed and you stretched before joining the rest of the family downstairs. Everyone was present except for Harry, Ron and Fred. Harry and Ron were still sleeping and Fred was banned from seeing Angelina, so he had to wait until she was finished eating to come downstairs. You found a seat next to George at the end of the table where you could observe everyone. Ginny and Hermione looked awful and were clearly playing it off as being tired. You saw right through it though and figured you’d be a good friend and help them out. You bumped Hermione’s knee and she turned to you with a pained expression. You found her hand under the table and placed the small vial in it. She looked at you with confusion and you simply winked at her. She trusted you enough to know you had her best interest at heart. When no one was looking, she dumped the contents of the vial into the cups of pumpkin juice in front of her and Ginny. A few sips later and it was like they were good as new. 

Breakfast came and went and then the stress began. George joined the boys in the backyard. They were responsible for setting up the tent and all the tables, as well as de-gnoming the garden. Meanwhile, the girls gathered upstairs to pamper Angelina. The bridesmaids’ dresses were lovely, and something you would probably wear again. The dresses were teal, a color everyone looked good in, with a strapless sequined bodice and wrap skirt. The dress fell right above the knee and managed to lengthen your legs. While all the bridesmaids were making themselves look great, Ang was changing into her gown. She emerged and all of you gawked over her beauty. The strapless, silk chiffon gown could not have been more perfect. The simplicity was breathtaking and was perfect for Angelina. The A-line silhouette gave the illusion that she was floating as she walked and the detailed, shimmery belt gave just the right amount of sparkle. You had never seen a more beautiful bride. 

                                                            X

The backyard was all set up and the guests were seated. Angelina was positively freaking out and it was your job to keep her calm and smiling. You were the first to descend down the aisle so you had to pass off your responsibilities to Hermione for the time being. 

George nudged you with his elbow and held his arm out, waiting for you to latch onto his bicep. “Ready love?” he asked. “Let’s get this show started,” you smiled.

The music started and you took that as your cue to begin walking. The guests all stood up and you gracefully walked down the candlelit path together.

“Don’t tell anyone I said this, but I think you’re the most beautiful woman here today,” he whispered in your ear.

You couldn’t hold in your grin and replied, “You know that’s why I keep you around, the endless amount of compliments.”

“Ah ha ha. Very funny. I know the truth is that you can’t resist me.”

“You just keep thinking that,” you said as you departed. George found his rightful place next to Fred and you stood and watched the rest of the wedding party walk down the aisle. Angelina was escorted by Mr. Weasley, seeing as her parents couldn’t attend the wedding. She was glowing. The sunlight was hitting her in the perfect spot and she had this twinkle in her eye that completely brightened her face. You looked toward Fred and he was visibly in love. The only time you’d ever seen that look before was when George looked at you that way. As she reached the altar, you held her bouquet as she grabbed Fred’s hands. She took a deep breath and focused on holding back her happy tears. You caught George’s eyes and noticed while everyone else was watching the happy couple, his eyes were focused on you. 

                                                            X

The ceremony was beautiful. No maid of honor emergencies came up but you still spent your time making every little detail perfect. The reception was even better. Everyone took the opportunity to have a good time and escape from the cruelties that were currently going on in the wizarding realm. 

You and George kept the champagne flowing in everyone’s glasses, as well as your own. Fred and Ang spent most of their time on the dance floor when they weren’t mingling with all the guests. They both looked so happy and you couldn’t help but smile whenever you saw them.

“Y/N! I know I haven’t seen you all day, but I just wanted to thank you for all your hard work. The day has literally gone flawlessly and I owe it all to you,” Ang came over and hugged you.

“Oh honey, I just wanted everything to be perfect for your special day!”

“It is, it really is. Now stop worrying about everything and go have fun with George!”

“You sure? I mean, what if…”

“Y/N, stop. Go dance.” She didn’t have to tell you twice. You gave her another hug and scurried off to find George.

He was over by the bar, talking with Lee and Ron, drinking what you assumed was firewhiskey. You snuck up behind him and ran your hands up and down his back. He turned around and put his arm around you.

“Sorry to interrupt boys. Mind if I steal him for a bit?” you asked. They both nodded  and you grabbed his hands and led him to the dance floor. 

“Where have you been all night?”

“I’m sorry baby. I just wanted to make sure everything was perfect for Ang and Freddie.”

“Well you did a fantastic job. But I think it’s time to hang out with your awesome boyfriend now.”

“You’re right. Now I just need to find him…” you said, looking around the crowd of people.

“Oh you’re funny. No wonder I like you so much,” he said wrapping his arms around your waist. You just smiled at him and he kissed your nose. You always tried not to show too much PDA, especially around family, but this was a special occasion. Everyone was so loved up that you didn’t feel weird being cutesy with George. 

He took your hand and you started dancing to whatever upbeat song was playing. You forgot how fun dancing was and it seemed like you had been out there for hours. Soon, the tempo started slowing down and George swiped you up and placed you in a waltzing position. His right hand was resting comfortably around your waist while his left was intertwined with yours. Your right arm was lightly draped on his shoulder and it almost looked like you knew what you were doing. Normally, the height difference would make this difficult, but the heels gave you a few inches and brought your faces closer.

“You know, we should just get married. Like tomorrow,” you said, as you swayed to the music.

“Tomorrow?”

“What, is that not enough notice for you? Still deciding if you want to spend the rest of your life with me.”

“Oh no. It’s not that at all. It’s just that I know you and that’s not what you really want.”

“I just want to marry you.” He smiled as you said this and kissed you passionately on the lips.  

“But if we got married tomorrow, you wouldn’t get to plan out every little detail of the wedding. And you wouldn’t get to wear your dream dress. And we wouldn’t be able to spend it with all of our friends and family. Besides, I still need to plan out an extravagant proposal.”

“I mean I guess you’re right. You always seem to know what’s best.”

“That’s just you wearing off on me.”

“I know I’ve probably said this a million times, but I don’t know what I would do without you.”

He kissed you on the forehead and squeezed you tight. The song ended and you stopped swaying and just stood together. Your head was resting on his shoulder and you let out a yawn.

“Someone’s sleepy,” he said, running his fingers through your hair.

“I am pretty exhausted. It’s been a long day.”

“We can probably turn in. There’s still a ton of people here, no one would even notice if we left.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t seem like this party is dying down anytime soon. I don’t know how much longer I can stay awake,” you replied.

“Come on then,” he grabbed your hand and led you back into the house. The Burrow was quiet, aside from the dull sound of the party outside, which was strange since most of the time there were people running about, fussing over this and that. 

You walked up the stairs and found his room. Fred had packed up his stuff, since they were leaving for their honeymoon right away. That meant the room would be all yours tonight. Even though you technically weren’t supposed to sleep in the same bed as George, you knew that tonight no one would notice or even care. As soon as he shut the door, your lips were on his. You didn’t think he was expecting you to be so forward, but he definitely didn’t mind. You pulled off his suit jacket and started to loosen his tie. He picked you up and carried you to his bed as you started unbuttoning his waistcoat.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to do it in my childhood bed.”

“Oh yeah? Well I guess it’s time to cross that off the list,” you winked at him.

[weather-usa]

A Common Plant is Increasing the Risk of Wildfire Disasters

A ubiquitous, resilient, and seemingly harmless plant is driving an increase in large, fast-moving, and destructive wildfires in the United States.

Grass, as plentiful as sunshine, acts like gasoline for wildfires under the right weather conditions: a single spark can set it ablaze.

Climate and Average Weather Year Round in 33324

Planet-warming emissions are disrupting temperature and precipitation patterns, leading to larger and more frequent fires. These fires perpetuate a vicious cycle of ecological destruction, further enabling grass to dominate the landscape.

“Name an environment, and there’s a grass that can survive there,” said Adam Mahood, a research ecologist with the US Department of Agriculture’s research service. “Any 10-foot area that’s not paved is going to have some kind of grass on it.”

Grass fires are typically less intense and shorter-lived than forest fires but can spread exponentially faster, outpacing firefighting resources and threatening the growing number of homes being built closer to fire-prone wildlands, fire experts told CNN.

A recent study found that over the last three decades, the number of US homes destroyed by wildfires has more than doubled as fires grow larger and more severe. Most of these homes were not burned by forest fires but by fires racing through grass and shrubs.

The West is at the highest risk, according to the study, with more than two-thirds of the homes burned in the last 30 years located in this region. Of those, nearly 80% were destroyed by grass and shrub fires.

Weather Forecast For Vermont: https://weatherusa.app/vermont

One factor is that people are building closer to fire-prone wildlands, known as the wildland-urban interface. Since the 1990s, the amount of land burning in this sensitive area has grown exponentially, along with the number of houses. As of 2020, around 44 million houses were in this interface, a 46% increase over the past 30 years, according to the same study.

Building in areas more likely to burn carries obvious risks, but since humans are also responsible for starting most fires, it also raises the likelihood of igniting fires in the first place.

More than 80,000 homes are in the wildland-urban interface in the sparsely populated parts of Kansas and Colorado that Bill King manages. The US Forest Service officer noted that living on the edge of nature requires proactive measures to prevent destruction.

Property owners “need to do their part too, because these fires – they get so big and intense and sometimes wind-driven that they could spot miles ahead even if we have a huge fuel break,” King said.

‘A Perfect Storm’ for Fire

Climate change-fueled fires are attacking the western half of the US on all fronts.

See more:

https://devpost.com/software/weather-forecast-for-south-dakota

“Globally, the places that burn the most are places that have intermediate precipitation,” said John Abatzoglou, a climate professor at the University of California, Merced. “It’s a little bit like Goldilocks. Not too wet, not too dry, just right, with plenty of ignition.”

In America’s grassy heartland, the typically dry and often windy Plains, a series of compounding extremes across seasons are creating ideal fire fuel conditions in perennial grasses. Grass is more plentiful here than in other regions of the US, offering more continuous fuel for fires to feed off.

The region is experiencing more megafires, like Texas's largest, the Smokehouse Creek Fire, and more destructive ones, such as Colorado's Marshall Fire, which burned through over 1,000 homes in 2021.

Rainy springs lead to increased grass growth, which then goes dormant or "plays dead" in the winter. Warmer winters with less snow cover, especially in the Northern Plains, expose grass to warmer, drier spells in late winter and early spring, according to Bill King and Todd Lindley, a fire weather expert with the National Weather Service in Norman, Oklahoma.

Grass is uniquely flammable due to its sensitivity to weather, Lindley explained. Unlike forests, it doesn't take long spells of warm, dry weather to turn grass into tinder. Moisture can be sapped from the plant in as little as an hour, even a day after rain. Add a spark, strong winds, and invasive shrubs that burn hotter and longer, and you have a recipe for grass fire disaster.

“These compound extremes, these sequences of extremes that follow one another, if you get the right sequence, it can be game on for this sort of wildfire,” said John Abatzoglou, a climate professor at the University of California, Merced. “Basically, you’re creating a perfect storm for the fire to spread there.”

Grass Invasion

Extreme drought and years of forest neglect are creating larger and more intense fires in western forests, King said.

“When I started 30 years ago, a big fire was 30,000 acres, and now that’s normal, that’s typical,” King said. “I’d have maybe one a year, one every couple of years of that size, and now we hear of 1-million-acre forest fires.”

See more:

https://www.behance.net/gallery/196103447/Weather-Forecast-for-Connecticut

Grass exists in forest systems too and acts like a fuse, connecting easier-to-ignite finer fuels to larger, drought-impacted tree systems, creating and spreading more intense fires.

When the trees die, grass moves in. Grass recovers from fire much faster than other plants and can burn again, sometimes within a matter of months. King has seen this firsthand.

“You could have green grasses sprouting in a burned-grass landscape within a day or two—that's how fast it rejuvenates,” King said. “Forest recovery, on the other hand, could take years, generations, or might never recover in our lifetime.”

As more vegetation in the West burns, it's being replaced by both native and non-native grass.

In the desert, this is creating fire where there wasn't any before, according to USDA’s Mahood. Unlike the perennial grasses in the Plains, annual grasses in the desert don’t exist year-round but take advantage of rare bursts of rain to propagate, then die, forming a carpet of fire fuel on the desert floor.

Two recent fires in California’s Mojave National Preserve are prime examples, Mahood said. These fires, fueled by invasive red brome grass, burned hundreds of thousands of acres of the Mojave Desert and over a million iconic Joshua Trees.

The increasing hot and dry conditions then suppress native plant recovery, leading to even more grass.

The West’s stubby, iconic sagebrush, the single largest ecosystem in the Lower 48, has lost or degraded half of its area over the last 20 years. According to a USGS study, an area the size of Delaware falls victim to grass, fire, and other stressors each year.

With more grass and a complex web of climate stressors, fire risk is increasing now and will likely worsen in the future.

“It may seem bad now, but this will probably not seem nearly as bad in the next decade,” Mahood said. “Think about how bad the fire season was two decades ago—now, that seems like nothing.”

[katnissmellarkkk]

what about ~ general ~ #48?

Gravity

Heyyyyy, so uh, remember sending this? Well, sorry this took 100,000 years. And uh, sorry, this got so long imma break it up into three separate parts. Because, ya see, the prompt you sent sparked a three chapter growing back together story. And... your prompt, which was general #48 “I won’t hurt you”, actually doesn’t appear until the final chapter 🤦🏼‍♀️... we love an overwriter, right? 

Okay so anyways, hopefully part two will be out soon. And forgive this for not being my greatest writing ever. 

And thanks, love, for sending me a prompt to start with!

Peeta and I grow back together.

/

"How long are you going to waste those paints?" I tease wryly, announcing my presence as I lean against the doorframe.

Peeta doesn't even glance back at me, but I can see from my angle his expression turn sardonic. "Until this shade of green is exactly right."

I chuckle, coming further into the room—using extra caution to not startle him as he can be easily triggered when his mind is preoccupied elsewhere—and attempting to peer over his shoulder at the canvas.

It's covered with a cloth though and this time he turns to look at me before laughing softly. "Trying to sneak a peek?"

I glance at him, a little ruffled, before my eyes find my feet. "I didn't know it was supposed to be secret," I defend, for some reason feeling embarrassed by my curiosity.

Our dynamic is still tense some days. We haven't kissed since we were in the Capitol and that was only to fight off his hijacking. We haven't genuinely kissed, kissed because we wanted to, for nothing but our own simple pleasure, since the Quell, on the beach, the last night before we were separated.

Since before Peeta was taken by the Capitol. Since before he was hijacked.

But his memory is better now and the clouded, haunted look is long gone from his eyes. In it's place is the same brightness, the same instinctive kindness, the same gaze I used to see even in the worst of circumstances.

Still though, I don't always know what to say or not say. I don't know what our boundaries are now.

I know that his house and mine are always open to the other one. I don't have to knock or announce myself when I come over, and more times than not I return from hunting to find him situated at my kitchen table, waiting for me before cutting our breakfast bread.

I don't always know where our trauma ends and our friendship begins. I don't honestly know where we even stand anymore. From allies to friends to unconscious lovers to enemies and back, I get whiplash practically trying to decipher it, and I can't even imagine how much more confusing it must be for him, still after all this time.

He is more committed to that stupid over-the-phone therapy we've both had forced upon us though. He is committed like an old dog to a rotten bone to healing himself from the wounds Snow inflicted.

I'm about to find an excuse to leave the room, to more than likely leave his house altogether and go out to the woods, like I too often do when I'm at loss for words or things grow awkward, when his fingers touch under my chin. He gently lifts it up to meet his sky blue irises. "Come help me mix colors," he implores, his eyes enthusiastic and genuine.

I nod tentatively after a moment, following behind him, like a wide-eyed child. Like my sister used to follow behind me when we walked from the Seam to town and back.

He makes room for me at the table he's turned into his painting palette. On it resides papers upon papers, each covered with dozens of green variants.

"Peeta," I gap at him, my eyes getting wide. "How have you made all these shades?"

He scratches the back of his neck, blushing a little, and managing to get a moss color on his neck from the wet paint still situated on his fingertips.

I have the most insane urge to clean his neck off myself, to touch him there, as though a spot that's always displayed in plain sight could suddenly be so intimate.

I squash that desire so fast, I feel my temples pulse.

"I've been working on getting this color right for a few days now," he admits sheepishly.

I raise my eyebrow at him, a little more coy than I was only a minute ago. "A few days?"

"Okay, so it's been a couple of weeks."

I laugh then, really laugh, from the bottom of my stomach. It only last for a few seconds but it's such a rarity still that I ever feel that kind of unadulterated joy, and I choose to bask it for all it's worth.

It doesn't escape my notice though that I only ever have these rare moments in Peeta's vicinity. Not that I plan to openly share this—with anyone, really, but especially with him—but it's something I can't help but clock, even if just to myself.

Apparently I'm not the only one who finds my laugh significant, because when I look up at him again, Peeta is staring at me with a look of awe now shining in his gaze. A look I didn't realize until he was back in Twelve, until he was back mentally, until we had started on the memory book together, that he'd lost in his hijacking. It was a gaze I had seen in thousands of moments before, on the train, in the beds we shared at night, in the arenas, in my living room.

That shining look of awe in his eyes is just another thing I didn't realize how much I missed, how much it meant to me, until it returned. Another thing I didn't even realize Snow took away from me.

He breaks the silence between us again, his mouth turning up on one side, his eyes suddenly glazing over. For a moment I brace myself for a flashback, something that I have become accustomed to witnessing on a regular basis. He never loses his mind, he never snaps or thinks I'm a mutt or anything of the sort, but he'll grow quiet for a long moment and he'll clutch the underside of the table or the back of a close by chair, and shut his eyes until it's over.

But he isn't having a flashback now. Instead, his words are wistful and full of longing. "I miss hearing you laugh like that," he quietly says, unashamed. Like he's always said everything. Confidently, even when he wasn't.

I offer him a small smile in return before turning back to the paint covered table, segueing not as subtly as I wish. "Okay, so how am I supposed to help you make your ideal green color?" I turn to him and add in a teasing tone, "I'm not quite as experienced in frosting as you."

It has the desired effect and he comes to show me how to mix the paints properly, how to add in other colors to make a lighter or darker shade of green.

"So this is why the frosting on the cakes were always so intricate?" I ask after a couple of hours of us just blending paints together.

"Because I'm a perfectionist? No. Because I needed to get the cakes to sell quick enough that I wasn't forced to have the stale, crunchy ones for dinner. Over-the-top frosted cakes sells faster."

I shoot him a sad look at that. I always forget that while I had to work hard from a young age to bring food home to my family, Peeta got stuck with the leftovers no one from the entire district claimed.

Hours pass and I get so lost in mixing colors—okay, actually, I'm playing after a while, as Peeta continues to mix paints—that I don't realize until the sky outside turns dark that we skipped lunch and dinner.

"Peeta," I say, tugging at his arm with my now paint covered palm. "We have to eat."

He shakes his head though. "I've almost got the exact right shade."

I huff. "You need to feed yourself. Or else you'll pass out and I'll have to drag you to your bedroom and it'll be rough on us both."

"So it won't be any different than Sunday at Haymitch's?"

I laugh at that again, really laugh, and my stomach aches and cramps from the unused muscles waking back up after their long hibernation. "Come on," I urge.

"Katniss, I swear, I'm almost finished," he insists again, very solemnly. "Go get food from the bakery for both of us and I'll be done by the time you get back."

I let go of his arm, feeling myself deflate as I realize he's truly not budging. "I can't be the only one who goes to town with paint covered hands," I throw out there, as a last resort.

Without even looking away from the table, he adds, "and a paint covered face."

My brow furrows, confused, when he taps my nose with his wet finger. "Peeta!" I try to exclaim but it gets eaten up by my giggle, which is quickly overpowered by his.

"You told me once green was your favorite color!" He defends, holding up his hands.

I swipe my still wet sheets of paper off the table and fling them at him, effectively covering his cheek and the shoulder of his shirt in a soup of green.

"Oh, you aren't getting away with that," he promises and grabs me around the waist when I bolt for the door. "You couldn't even beat a man with one leg," he teases as he hoists me up and propels us both towards the wet paints again.

"Don't you dare," I threaten but my smile, one I can't repress, isn't letting me give the correct authenticity to my tone and in the end, he only smirks at my words.

A half hour later, I exit Peeta's house, having scrubbed my face the best I could in his bathroom sink. I only made the green fade from my cheeks and nose, not completely evaporate, and my neck is still strewed with flicks of the forresty shade.

My stained shirt is covered though as I pull on Peeta's jacket, having for once left mine in my own doorway, three houses down. Instead of going to fetch it, I choose take him up on the offer to borrow his, pretending it's about convenience and not because I like the way his smell of vanilla and cinnamon and something entirely his own lingers on all his clothing.

I use the key he gave me to the freshly rebuilt bakery and let myself in the backdoor, more so because that's where I'm most comfortable entering. Peeta's new bakery is almost identical in structure to the old one, and his mother would have never let me come in through the front, let alone trade my game over the counter instead of in the chilly back alleyway.

So many times I peaked inside the back, peered over the old baker's shoulder while he examined my squirrels. Majority of the times it was only to see the blazing hot oven, to fantasize about how it must feel to work with that kind of heat in the winter, to have heat so easily accessible at your fingertips that you can take it for granted. But sometimes it was also to catch a glimpse of what the inside must look like, my curiosity getting the best of me.

Being from the Seam, you so rarely had reason to enter a Merchant business. Being from the Seam, there was always a part of you that wondered what the other side of the community must live like.

Well, now I know. I have, really, since I became a victor and Peeta took me with him here on a seldom occasion to chat with his dad while he mother was gone.

I can't help but admire the handiwork of Thom and of many others in the community. They rebuilt the bakery—with assistance, both creatively and manually, from Peeta himself—in only a few months time and it looks like it was never decimated. The woodwork of the wall panels, the marble tile of the floor, the cream color of the walls.

It was like the old bakery, but made newer and fresher.

However, as I grab a loaf of bread and pastries—Peeta did say to get whatever I craved—I spot something out of the ordinary.

The walls visible to the customers in the front are reserved for Peeta to paint murals on, whenever he finds himself in the right mood to create whatever idea he has sitting inside his head. But the walls in the back are typically full of notes and lists and customer orders and—Peeta's own idea—thank you notes and cards from members of the community, who adore him even more now than they did before the war.

But all those things have been cleared away from a section of the wall space. There is a noticeably large blank space, right above the oven and counter, where no one else but Peeta will be able to view it.

It's maybe a little thing to be hung up on, but it strikes me as so strange I cannot stop thinking about it.

I choose to stop at the rebuilt Hob after I finish at the butcher's, offering Greasy Sae an extra pastry for her and her granddaughter.

She takes the offer with a sly look, handing me a container of soup to go with the bread.

"What?" I ask, unsettled a little by her glance, like she knows something I don't.

"I see someone's been painting," she just simply notes, gesturing with her chin to my green stained hand and wrist.

"Oh!" I catch on now. "Yeah, I was just helping Peeta."

The excuse doesn't seem to diminish the glint in her eyes. "Helping. Yeah, I'm sure."

I roll my eyes in her direction as I walk towards the door, calling out, "goodnight," evenly over my shoulder.

When I get back to Peeta's though, he isn't in his art studio. Instead he's in the kitchen, grabbing silverware and plates for us to eat. "Grab bowls too," I call as I plop our food down on his countertop. "Traded a pastry for some."

He shoots me a sardonic look now. "You know you don't have to trade for everything, right?"

"I like it more than spending money," I retort easily, slipping off his jacket. "I'm going to go scrub my hands in the bathroom again before we eat," I say, glancing at my still green digits.

"Well, hurry," he urges teasingly. "You have gotten me so used to eating things when they're fresh, I almost can't stand waiting anymore."

His hand playfully pushes on my back, propelling me towards to the stairs, and I have a hard time denying even to myself the thrill that runs through my body when him unexpectedly touches me.

I quickly wash and scrub as much paint off my palms and wrists as I can, drying hastily on the towel Effie definitely sent from the Capitol.

But I find myself with a sudden irrepressible urge, one not even the food downstairs or Peeta waiting can quench. As I pass by the art room, I see the painting he was so meticulously working on now sitting on his drying table, leaving the canvas empty.

I know I shouldn't invade his privacy but, after everything else we've been through, there isn't much he would keep from me.

At least, that's what I tell myself to rationalize my prying away as justifiable.

I walk to the table, as quietly as I do in the woods when hunting prey, as not to tip him off in case he is listening from the kitchen. I'm unprepared to offer my excuses for snooping to his face, despite the fact I can't picture him being too put out with me.

I am also utterly unprepared for the vision that awaits me in the now finished painting.

Laying flat on it's back, the painting stares directly up at me as I approach. The canvas displays a beautiful girl, with black hair and large grey eyes and a very endearing, bashful smile. There's a variety of flowers in her hair and in her hands she's holding a small bouquet of dandelions. There's a warm, glowing sunset behind her and a willow tree in the distance. It takes me a moment to realize, but her sweater is a dark shade of green, more pleasing to the eye than any leaf or shrub I've ever come across, even on the Victory Tour, in the most lovely botanical gardens the country had to offer.

The girl in the portrait is beautiful and shy and happy and you can see, even in a painting, that she doesn't enjoy having her image captured.

I have to blink six separate times before it finally registers that the girl is me. Her skin is a multitude of colors, varying shades from where something ate a part of her flesh away. But instead of that making her less attractive, it only serves in making her all the more stunning. Her skin is a gorgeous vision and I don't know how Peeta managed the impossible. I don't know how he managed to make me beautiful, but he did.

"Katniss?" I hear him call, and I jump at the sound of his voice ripping me out of the moment. His tone is light and playful, and I have to swipe my hand across my eyes to rid myself of the moisture that's leaked out before he sees. "You coming to dinner?" He asks from the bottom of the stairs and I give the lovely work of art one last look before I follow his voice, a rare, uncontrollable smile forming on my mouth as I shut the door behind me.

After everything else that's happened, only Peeta could make me feel like this.

/

A few weeks later.

I admire the bright yellow primroses, now in full bloom, the lightly blowing wind only complimenting their beauty and elegance instead of disturbing it.

I stare blankly at the flowers planted in my sister's honor. My sister who should be here now, should be stitching bleeding wounds and helping with the reconstruction of the town. My sister who should be admiring Peeta's frosted cakes and convincing me to dance with her in the living room by the fire. My sister who should have never been in the Capitol that day, should have been tucked away in Thirteen with our mother, should have never grown up as quickly as she was forced to or had her life stolen in a split second.

Peeta's fingers sift through my hair, unconsciously sensing the tension building in my body as I feel a rise of anger at all Coin and Snow took from me in the name of power.

I turn my head up to glance at him, craning my neck a little. I'm about to say something, I'm not sure what yet, but something to convey that I'm fine. Something to brush off what I assume are his concerns. But I'm surprised by what I see when I peer up. His face isn't what I expected.

Instead of concerned or curious, he's having his own sort of contemplation. Instead of even looking at me, he's staring up at the clear blue sky, watching the white puffs of clouds floating microscopically slow across the the way.

But his brow is furrowed and his mouth is turned down and he seems uncharacteristically miserable.

"What's wrong?" I ask, sitting up now. We'd been laying beside each other—maybe a little too close but neither of us seemed to mind—on the grass in my backyard, just trying to rest. We'd planned on working on new entries for the memory book today, but I hadn't slept at all last night and when he came over this morning to find me, still home and not in the woods, with my fingers pinching the bridge of my nose, it was him who'd suggested a day off, relaxing in the grass under the sun.

He barely glances at me now, not really acknowledging my inquiry. "Nothing," he states simply and his hand touches mine for the briefest of seconds before pulling away.

"No, tell me what's bothering you," I insist defiantly. I don't know if it's the crankiness from lack of sleep or if I'm just fed up with having words left unsaid between us, but I'm not backing down.

"Katniss, come on," he says exasperatedly and his tone irks me further.

Instead of snapping and saying something I may regret later, I just shake my head at him, pushing myself upwards and beginning the walk back to the house, with every intention of abandoning our afternoon plans of relaxation. "Okay, wait!" He calls in retaliation and I feel him stretch to grip my hand in his again, only this time not dropping it after only a moment.

I relent and move backwards, sitting down to face him cautiously. I'm not worried that he's going to snap or harm me, not even in the slightest, but I am worried that both of us in foul moods-with our minds that are already teetering just on the edge of sanity-will lead to a painful, heated argument.

The last thing I want is to fight with Peeta. As much as I hate to admit it, even to myself, I've come to rely far too heavily on his presence in my daily life. Driving him away is too agonizing to consider right now.

Peeta doesn't let go of my hand for a long beat and when he does, he does so in a slip so awkward it leaves me believing he didn't even realize he was still grasping it. "I was just thinking about Gale," he blurts out, his eyes wide and a little nervous.

I just stare at him though, waiting for him to elaborate. "You were thinking of Gale?" The name burns the inside of my mouth, the face of the person I once called my friend now only bringing the gut-wrenching image of my sister's last moments of life, as the bombs he potentially built floated from the sky down towards her and hundreds of other unexpecting children. "Wh-why were you thinking of Gale?" I press, my voice caught between shocked and angry.

But Peeta seems prepared for my strangled query. "I guess, I was thinking of every which way... I guess, I was really thinking of the possibility of Gale returning," he explains, and my blood turns to ice. My vision swirls at the very thought and I have to force myself to swallow as my throat suddenly feels very dry.

"Did you hear something I haven't? Do you know if he is coming back to Twelve?" I press as evenly as I can. It's fruitless though, as he shoots me a sympathetic—but still somewhat distracted—look.

"No," he promises, shaking his head. "No, I haven't heard anything about him. I'm just assuming that he will at some point-"

"Why?" I can't help but implore, my voice more aggravated than I intend.

Peeta gives me a look like the answer to my words is blatant. "Because this is is his home, Katniss. You're his home," he emphasizes.

"No," I instantly repel. "No, I'm not his home. Don't even say that. I-I'm not..." I can't seem to make the words come out intelligibility. Instead, I find myself choking on the sounds and syllables. "What even brought this on, Peeta? Why would you be thinking about this?"

At that, he shrugs and breaks his conflicted gaze away, leaving me boring deep into the side of his skull as if the answers I craved would be visible there. "I was happy," he offers quietly, after a long stretch of silence. "I was happy here with you and it got me thinking of all the ways this could be taken away from me."

Oh, I realize as his words hit me. Of course. Of course that's where his mind went. Because not so long ago, every single good thing in his life, from his family, to his home, to his freedom, to his sanity itself, were all viciously and mercilessly stolen. Of course Peeta has such little faith that anything good will last for him anymore.

Still though. To think of Gale as the thing to ruin our days together, our growing friendship, would almost be laughable if it wasn't so insane.

"Why him though?" I press, unable to comprehend his line of thinking. "Why did you think about him coming back?"

He shoots me the same look again, like he can't understand why I even have to ask. "Because that is one sure way you'd be done with me."

"What?" I exclaim, like he was speaking in a language I'd never heard before. "Why would that mean I'd be done with you?"

Now his expression turns downright exasperated and I feel like mine must match. "Because, Katniss. He's-he's..." He struggles with finding the proper wording again. Something that is so incredibly rare for Peeta Mellark that I don't even register it. "He's the one for you," he continues softly after a moment, no malice in his voice, just what he believes to be facts. "I knew that—I've always known that. Long before I knew much else about you, I knew that Gale and you were practically-"

"Peeta, stop," I cut off, maybe not soon enough. "Gale and me... no," I insist venomously. "No, he..." And if Peeta is struggling to speak, I'm know I'm obviously doomed right now. I take a breath and just stare into the blue pools in his eyes and force myself to speak, even if it's difficult, even if I'd rather be choking on a rusty nail right now. "I will never have anything to do with Gale again," I declare gently, doing my best to remain calm and steady.

Peeta shoots me a wary look and I suddenly have to question if he knows about Gale and the bombs. The question that can never be answered, the connection I'll never be able to prove or disprove, but know in my gut what the answer likely is.

He can't know, if he thinks there's a chance that I'd ever have any sort of relationship with Gale again.

"Peeta," I struggle to get out, feeling breathless before I've even began to utter any of it. "Gale is the one—or he might be the one, I don't know, I'll probably never know—who built or created or wha-"

But he's shaking his head rapidly, comprehension flickering across his face. "Katniss, I know," he says, and reaches out to squeeze my palm again. The unexpected touch sends a shock wave through my body but I'm too overwhelmed to really notice. "Haymitch told me about Gale's part in Prim's death."

I rip my hand away so fast, acting before thinking, betrayal spreading through my entire being before I have the chance to even process his words. "If you know that, why do you think I'd ever have anything to do with him again?"

Peeta is starting to really grind on my nerves with that incredulous look he keeps giving me. It's as if he cannot follow what I'm saying or thinks that I'm not seeing his side of the argument or something else that is quite obviously wrong.

How on earth could Peeta ever think that I would be able to look Gale in the eye after what he did? After what he might have done? Does the might of even make a difference? If there's any discrepancies between if he did or didn't murder Prim, how could I ever hold a conversation with him while that hangs between us? How could I meet his eyes and always be reminded I can never meet her's again? How could I ever trust someone like that, that made callous decisions in the heat of righteous anger? Someone who had no idea what it was like to be forced to murder and have it labeled a game. Someone who actively ignored the warnings of those who had? Who actively allowed himself to be used as a puppet for a radicalist who was no better than Snow himself?

Peeta's voice yanks me from my thoughts. "Because, Katniss," he starts gently, looking rather mournful, effectively softening my anger against him just a bit. "You forgave me. How am I any better?"

I just stare at him. "You couldn't help what you did, Peeta."

"Wasn't Gale used too? Just by Coin instead of Snow?"

"It's not the same thing."

"Why not?"

"You didn't possibly kill my sister. And God knows how many other kids," I finally say, the fight in my voice still hanging on.

"I almost killed you," he reminds me, as if I have forgotten.

"It's not the same thing, Peeta," I whisper again, my eyes more compelling, more insistent, than my voice now. He sees that, as he's gazing deeply into my steel colored irises.

He takes a deep breath, mulling over his words before speaking them aloud. I realize then he must have been thinking about this for a while. The concept disturbs me for some reason. Like he's been having this debate in his head without me and I'm late to the event. Like he was actively having this argument already and didn't think to even get my side of the story first. "What if Snow had programmed me to kill Prim instead of you? Then would you have forgiven me?"

I have to look away at that moment because I outright don't know what to say. Would I have been able to ever forgive him for it, for trying to murder my little sister while not in his right mind? Would I have been able to look past it, to see that he was used and abused and destroyed to get to me? Or would I have been so stuck on the idea of anything hurting Prim that all his trauma would have become background noise? Would Gale be the one here now, having this conversation with me, while I was denouncing Peeta's name?

I can't give him an answer and we swore not to lie to each other, in light of everything we've been through, so instead I turn my eyes up to look into the forlorn blue skies I've become so accustomed to and say the only thing I know is true. "I honestly don't know, Peeta."

He nods at that, almost immediately accepting my honestly. Almost like he anticipated those words from me. And he offers me a small smile before standing himself up off the grass and walking towards the backdoor to my house. "I'm going to head home for the day," he says quietly, with no resentment in his voice.

My heart sinks at his words, as some long stifled string inside of me wishes to attach onto him and hold him here with me. To refuse to let him leave until that forlorn edge evaporates from his gaze. But something more prevalent, more powerful, is also churning inside of me, something that cannot stand being withheld even for a day, and I find myself calling out his name against my better judgment.

"Peeta!" I exclaim urgently, my voice rocky and scratched.

He turns and looks at me, his eyes curious to what I could have to say. And I don't know what else to utter, but the truth. The misunderstanding I'm irrationally unsettled by, the misconception that I can't continue to let fester inside his head.

"Gale was never the one for me."

Peeta blinks in surprise at the blatant assertion. He opens up his mouth to speak several times, confusion marring his features, but nothing comes out.

And in case he somehow wants to rationalize my statement away, in case somewhere in his head the demon Snow planted is trying to squash any assurance my statement may inspire, I repeat myself again.

"Gale was never the one."

/

A month later.

"Haymitch, come on," I mutter, pushing my old mentor towards the front door. "Go home. Sleep off the alcohol."

The older man murmurs something equally unintelligible and also somehow still undoubtedly rude at me, shoving my hands away from his back, where I'm trying to aim him in the direction of the exit.

"The boy is much gentler," he snaps, swaying heavily with his vigorous words.

"We have always agreed that Peeta is superior to me. You can go to his house if you want him to tuck you in tonight."

Haymitch guffaws at that, out of his skull. "Now wouldn't that make you jealous?"

"Get out!"

"Night night, Sweetheart."

After he's gone, I lock the door in case he tries to come back, tries to raid my kitchen again or use my couch as a free bed.

Nothing is more freighting than thinking I'm alone in my house and then seeing a man sleeping in my living room, first thing in the morning.

As I head upstairs though, I realize what I just did. Giving Haymitch the idea to go to Peeta's house, to torture him with his inebriation like he does me, and I wonder if Peeta's angry with me now.

Not real, long lasting anger, of course. Just simple irritation. But still, as I change into my pajamas and brush out my braid, I wonder if I've now destroyed Peeta's night.

At first the idea of our mentor giving Peeta a hard time tonight still doesn't seem like a too terrible situation to me. Peeta's definitively the one that will put up with the tiresome antics of the old drunk until he can't any longer. He's the one who will be more likely to have mercy on a sloshed Haymitch and let himself lose sleep, too kind for his own good.

But then it hits me that when Peeta loses too much sleep, when his insomnia kicks in, or when commotion keeps him awake, he surely has a flashback the following day. Resting later into the day doesn't help either, as any disruption to his sleep schedule can really mess with him good.

I feel myself rush to the window across from my bed, peering out to look three houses down, to see if I can spot the paunchy old man heading in that direction.

I see nothing and no one. It's the black of night, in the middle of winter. No one else lives in what used to be Victor's Village, aside from us three. The road between our houses is cold and wet and entirely void.

Still, I try to squint, to see if I can make anything out over at Peeta's.

His light is off. That much I can tell. The light in his bedroom is turned off, the room is too dark to see into, porchlight is turned off, and all this indicates he's fast asleep, Haymitch went home to his own house and I have nothing to worry about.

However, something else catches me attention then. Peeta's window. It's open. Just like it used to be. Just like before the Quarter Quell. Even in the middle of winter, in the darkest part of the night, he's always kept his bedroom window open.

I tell myself it's paranoia, or it's neighborly kindness. But I decide to open my window as well, in case I hear Haymitch pounding on Peeta's door and disturbing him at an ungodly hour. In case I hear Haymitch causing a ruckus outside Peeta's house and I have to go get him before he causes any massive disturbance.

I tell myself it's because I feel guilt and not because I miss Peeta, even in my sleep.

Especially in my sleep.

I doze off, desperately forcing myself to believe that lie.

When I wake up three hours later, it's not because Haymitch is making noise. No, he hasn't made a peep that I could hear since I kicked him out.

No, I wake up because of a wholly unexpected cacophonous sound.

I wake up because Peeta is screaming.

Peeta is screaming loud, on top of his lungs, like someone is holding a knife or a gun to his throat at this very moment.

It's a sound I recognize instinctively. And not because it resembles the version of him that was rescued and brought to Thirteen.

No, I recognize the sound because it sounds eerily similar to the noises I make from nightmares of the same events, because of flashbacks of the same memories.

Most victors understand each other to varying degrees. We've all lived through literal hells, we've all had our trauma projected across the country, we've all been through horrible ordeals that almost no one else could ever empathize with.

However, most victors didn't win their games together. Most victors don't know what anyone else's personal nightmares are about. Most victors can't even imagine what any of the others are seeing, in any shadow of a dark room. In a the cobwebs of our minds that not even the most proficient doctor can clear. Most victors can't see the haunting reflection in the dark smeared glass that remains unique to each individual victor.

Except me and Peeta. Except us, the once Star-Crossed Lovers, the girl on fire and the baker's boy, the two mouthpieces of opposing sides of war.

The two of us understand each other on a level deeper than anyone else on the planet can even begin to imagine, and it's this fact that draws me thoughtlessly out of my bed at the sound of his cries, and over the threshold and down the street before I even realize what I'm doing. Before I can contemplate it and think my way out of doing it.

I pound on his door, turning my palm pink with the applied force. "Peeta?" I exclaim but all I hear in response is a gut-wrenching howl in pain. I worry for a moment that he's managed to injury himself somehow. That he's lost his prosthetic in his own frenzy and now is lying helpless on the ground.

I take a chance, pleading silently for the door to be unlocked as I turn the knob.

I'm not sure if I should be grateful that Peeta doesn't lock his doors before going to sleep—he doesn't even close his windows though, so how can I be surprised?—but for the moment I bask in the one lucky instance and make a mental note to yell at him tomorrow for it.

My tired, cold legs shoot up the stairs, racing towards his bedroom blindly through the darkness. "Peeta?" I call out again, quieter now than before, not wanting to give him a heart attack.

After all, an intruder, just about any intruder-even my own mother-appearing in my house in the dead of night, would probably knock me unconscious from the adrenaline overload that would surely overtake me.

Because unlike Peeta, I do lock my door—every single door in my house—at night, the image of anyone coming to hurt me while I'm asleep and at my most vulnerable too powerful for me to rationalize away.

But Peeta doesn't hear my voice now and even without any light, I easily locate his bedroom. Despite the fact I've never been in it before. That revelation occurs to me as I'm about to open the door.

Even in our closest and most sacred moments together, I never once set foot inside his bedroom. I'd barely even walked into his house prior to coming back to Twelve after the war. And when I did come here now, we typically stayed in the kitchen or art room for some reason.

All this races through the back of my mind as I push the door open and reveal Peeta, tangled up in his bed sheets, bare-chested and sleeping in only his pajama pants. His fingers clawing at the wall ferociously, his eyes wild as the deer I hunt, when they realize I'm there at the very last second before the arrow pierces their hearts.

"Peeta," I whisper now, my concern for what must have set him off overtaking any qualms I may still have. I try to tell myself to be careful and keep a safe distance, as I don't know if he's himself right now or if he's once again the loaded weapon Snow broke him down and turned him into.

But when he looks at me, his blue eyes wide and wet and terrified and awed, like he thinks I'm nothing but a dream, I can't make myself believe he's anyone but the boy who saved my life years ago. So many years ago now, it seems.

And when he whispers my name and blindly, instinctively, desperately, reaches for me, I just can't make myself stay away. Without hesitating, I lunge forward and for the first time since the Quarter Quell, I throw myself straight into his arms, like I belong there.

My arms wrap around his neck and I feel him pull my body to his, pulling me down against him, molding our two shaky forms together as one. He pulls my legs around his waist and wraps me in a hug so tight my ribs physically hurt and I can't even breathe.

I burrow my face into the skin of his throat, inhaling his scent in an unabashed, reckless act, and turn my cold cheek to lay against his rapid beating heart.

"I thought you were dead," is the first thing he whispers, as the tears still running down his face hit my forehead.

"I'm not," I promise, trying to make my voice convincing, even as I'm reeling by this sudden turn of events.

I never, in a million years, thought I'd ever end up in his arms like this again. This embrace, this comfort, is something else I truly believed Snow had stolen away from me.

"I dreamed you died," he whimpers again, like he didn't hear me.

"I'm here, Peeta. I heard you having a nightmare and I came. As fast as I could." I don't know why I feel the need to tell him this information, but when his trembling starts to lessen I feel slightly validated.

"I lost you," he whispers, his voice hoarse and broken.

"You couldn't lose me if you tried." The words come out without warning, and I'm glad somehow. I'm so tired of words being held back or dropped between us, of neither of us knowing what to say to the other. Of shoving down what we're both really feeling.

Even if right now may be the worst time for declarations, with Peeta exhausted and upset and visibly traumatized, I still feel relief spread all over my body, for having the guts to say what I'm thinking for once.

I see the wheels beginning to turn now, in his bloodshot, puffy eyes as he slowly begins to process the last couple of minutes that's brought us back into the position we held nightly only one year ago.

Has it really only been a year?

I expect then for him to recoil away from me, or apologize even, citing that he doesn't know what possibly came over him. But, to my surprise, he does none of that. Instead Peeta hugs me tighter to him, pulling up the covers he'd kicked away, effectively sheltering us beneath their protective warmth.

"Stay," he whispers into my hair, his arms shaking as they become a soothing balm around me, leaving me feeling safe in a way I refuse to ask for. Giving me back a refuge I considered all but gone. "Please, Katniss, stay with me?"

Without thinking twice, without giving myself a chance to second-guess the words, I whisper into his chest, exactly where I can feel his beating heart, "Always."