#will update later if this is edible

[emma045]

My beautiful {no} first try of making brownies in the wrong baking tray

[arttsuka]

Making cake with flour that's been expired since 28/2/2022

[thatonefatgumsimp]

life update:

I made cookie dough and I also ate some of it. It was very good.

mmmm

[corvids-corner]

Going to smoke weed for the first time :3

[softpascalito]

Christmas Baking for Three - Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: You're tired, pregnant, angry and you mess up the cookies meant for Joel. He gets a full blast of your hormones - and still manages to surprise you.

Relationships: Joel Miller x F!Reader WC: 1800 Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Baking, Christmas Cookies, Christmas, Pregnancy, Female Reader, No use of y/n, Fights, Mention of normal pregnancy struggles, Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Nicknames, Kissing, Crying, Joel Miller in an apron Read on AO3 full advent calendar (updated daily)

notes: another lil calendar piece that is also dedicated to steph's winter writing challenge (@toomanystoriessolittletime) with the trope baking <3 i also wanted to mention a very short but very lovely pregnancy piece by SwiggitySwagNightmareStag with peña that i found really inspiring in regards to p characters and how they handle pregnancy. you can read it here! <3

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

You swore under your breath as you opened the oven door, only to be met with a gush of heat and the smell of burnt dough. The cookies that you had so carefully prepared, cut out in the shapes of christmas trees and hearts, had taken on a dark brown color, the furthest row from you already smoking slightly.

“Fuck-” With a quick move, you maneuvered the try of burnt cookies onto the sink to let them cool off. Looking at them in broad daylight, it was clear that they were barely edible and in no way as enjoyable as they should be.

You ignored the surge of anger inside of yourself, anger at the oven for being so damn unreliable, at the timer that you’d meant to replace ages ago, at yourself. You’d been too distracted with cleaning up, then being forced to take a quick trip to the bathroom upstairs and getting sidetracked with laundry.

A groan left you at the realization. The laundry was still soaking in the bathtub, abandoned the second you’d caught a glimpse of the clock and realized how long the cookies had been baking for.

Angry tears shot into your eyes. It felt like a never-ending battle between you and your ever-growing list of things to do, to prepare, to keep track of. And this had been the one thing you’d wanted to do for him, to thank him for taking over so many of said things now that you were in your third trimester. Maybe you could start over, hide the failed cookies, to spare your another embarrassment in front of-

As if summoned by your thoughts, the door of the small mudroom bordering the kitchen opened with a creak. Merely a second later and clearly alarmed by the smell, he was hurrying into the room, eyes raking through the kitchen until they landed on you. His shoulders slumped slightly as he took in your form, checking you from top to bottom.

“Are you okay?” Joel's voice was soft, despite him being a little out of breath. You could see the basket filled with firewood behind him. Another task that used to be yours before your stomach had grown too big.

He watched your reaction, carefully making his way around the counter, glancing at the burnt cookies in passing. It was enough to make the tears finally spill from your eyes, rolling down your face and landing on the shirt that was already stained with flour. And the anger inside of you? It had finally found an outlet.

The poor man didn't even have time to brace himself before you started yelling.

“You arent supposed to be home, what the fuck are you doing here?!” He looked taken aback, but only for a moment. Then his face seemed to relax. You didn't want him to relax. You wanted him to be as angry as you were and in as much pain and misery. You knew it was a horrible, horrible thought, but you couldn't help it. You wanted him to have to run to the toilet upwards of twenty times a day, to have him woken up by a human kicking inside of him at the most ungodly hours.

“You said you'd be at work until five! You're not-” Another sob escaped you as the knot in your chest seemed to grow exponentially, “You're not supposed to be here yet and-”

You couldn't find a single trace of anger on his face. Not in the crease between his brows, not in the corners of his mouth, not even in his eyes. All you could find was concern.

“Hey-” Joel whispered, his hands cupping your cheeks. They were cold but you leaned into the touch regardless, “What's going on, darlin? Talk to me, please.”

You hiccuped slightly as you tried to speak, the words fighting hard to not get outside. As far as your body was concerned, there was no point in telling him, in making him a bigger part of your currently miserable experience than he already had to be.

“Burned- I burned the cookies-” You mumbled, “I wanted- wanted to surprise you.”

Your arms finally wrapped around him, your body fitting snug against his, even with your baby bump between you. Joel pulled you closer, one hand supporting your back while the other gently stroked your hair, “Shhh, it's okay. You're okay.”

He held you like that for a while, occasionally whispering words of gentle encouragement into your ear until the sobs had stopped. Then, he nudged you towards the living room, guiding you to sit down on one of the armchairs next to the window. He stayed by your side, kneeling down in front of you as he kept his hands on your legs, gently rubbing your thigh.

“There we are,” Joel mumbled softly, producing a handkerchief from nearby and wiping the last of your tears from your cheeks. He gave you a few more moments of silence before he spoke.

“Wanna talk about it?” You opened your mouth to decline, to push him away and deal with it yourself. It's what you would have done a few months ago. But, as he kept reminding you, you were a team now. No, not just a team. Parents. Soon-to-be-parents. He-was-once-before-but-you-were-new-to-all-this-parents.

“It's just been a lot,” you mumbled, watching as Joel nodded along, soft brown eyes radiating understanding. “And I'm already putting so much work on you on top of your normal duties so I thought- I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Joel hummed quietly, his thumb pressing into your thigh a little, “You do nice things for me all the time, darlin’.”

“I don't. Not with-” You helplessly gestured to your stomach. You could practically see Joel's expression getting a little more serious at that, “Baby, I promise you do. You're here when I come home, right? You fall asleep next to me. You kiss me when you wake up in the morning. Don't need more than that, baby.”

Almost instantly, the tears were back. A thick one rolled down your cheek and Joel reached up just in time to catch it.

“I appreciate you wanting to bake for me, godda-” He stopped himself from cursing, a habit he’d picked up in the last few weeks, with the due date coming ever closer and him insisting that you should at least try to bring up a civilized child. You had a feeling it had less to do with your child and more with the amount of curse words Ellie dropped on a daily basis, but if it made Joel happy, you wouldn't argue against it.

He sighed, “I really do appreciate it. And you know I think your cookin’ is nothing short of magic,” he mumbled quietly. Then he shook his head, his hand wandering to gently rest on your round stomach, “But it's not why I'm with you.”

“Besides, you're already doin’ a whole lot of baking in here,” he added with a small smile, gently patting your stomach and you couldn't help but let out a small laugh.

“I wouldn't exactly call it baking.”

Joel raised a brow, “No, ‘m pretty sure it is. I made a real nice dough, put it right in here, turned up the heat and now I just gotta wait for it to be done.”

“You're such an idiot, Miller,” you offered weakly as you leaned down towards him, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He smirked against your lips, “If being an idiot gets you to stop crying, I'll do it more often.”

The kiss barely had time to get more heated before you gently pushed back against Joel's chest, “Gotta finish the laundry upstairs.” A small frown built on his face, “We agreed I'd do that. Ain't good for your back, baby.”

“I told you, I've been-” He actually cut you off this time, squeezing your thigh a little to make you fall silent, “Remember what I said? When you told me you were pregnant?”

You raised a brow, “Before or after you almost fainted?” Joel sent you a playful glare at that, causing you to sigh, “You said we were in this together. That you- that you'd be here for it all.”

“That's right,” he mused softly, his thumb still absent-mindedly caressing your thigh. 

“Now, let me go take care of the laundry and you take a nap, yeah? You look-” He paused for a moment, clearly trying to find a nice way to say it, “You look real tired, darlin’.”

You drifted off to the sound of clothes being washed in the bathtub in the next room and to Joel's soft humming of a lullaby he’d been practicing. If this works just half as good on our baby, you thought right before falling asleep, we’re not going to half a single sleepless night.

When you wake up, the rays of afternoon sun are filtering through the windows, giving the house the warm glow you like it so much for. Stumbling into the kitchen, you're met with a sight that you've never seen before.

Joel Miller, an apron tied around his front, kneading away on a piece of dough. Your small laughter alerts him to your presence and you swear you can spot the faintest blush on his cheeks as you practically skip towards him.

“If you wanted an excuse to wear that, you could've just said so,” you tease, leaning against the counter as you watch him. Joel grumbles softly but the small smile on his face isn't lost on you, “ ‘bout time you wake up. Wanna help?”

You frown slightly- and then you realize what he’s doing. Baking bread is something you do often, but this isn't that. The cookie recipe you'd been using earlier is placed next to him, the dough looks exactly the same yours had before you’d burned it.

“Figured we both like cookies. Plus it doubles as a Christmas activity and, well.”

You kiss him. Once, twice, only stopping when he forces you to. He's perfect.

You bake together this time, with you showing him how to get the cut-outs just right, him sneaking a few pieces of the dough into his mouth when he thinks you’re not looking. It’s cozy and relaxing and for the first time in weeks, you seem to forget all about the struggles of being a pregnant woman.

You both sit in front of the oven afterwards, you in Joels lap, your bodies intertwined, both watching eagerly as the cookies slowly turn golden. He kisses your head, his nose nuzzling your hair a few times.

“Next time you’re overwhelmed like that?” He mumbles quietly, “Just let me know, yeah? You know I'm here. For you and the little one”

You nod softly, resting your head against his chest, “I know.”

notes: as always, thank you for reading. i adore each and every one of you. if you enjoyed this, feel free to give me an early christmas present by leaving a comment or reblogging <3

[somewhere-in-the-rain]

Empyrean modern AU headcanons (part 2)

This one’s been in my drafts for a hot minute 😅

Violet is allergic to mushrooms. Unfortunately, she did not know this, so Xaden had to take her to A&E halfway through one of their dates.

Sawyer once downloaded Tinder and was bullied relentlessly for it by Ridoc. He got him back for it later though by catfishing him on Instagram.

When Aaric/Cam was eight, his brothers had him convinced he was adopted for a good six months.

Ridoc thinks potpourri is edible.

Whenever Violet and Liam get in a car together, they blast Christmas music no matter what time of year it is.

Jesinia loves adding notes to the beginning of her AO3 fics saying things like “Sorry I haven’t updated for a while, there was an uprising at my school so now I live in my friend’s boyfriend’s mansion with three hundred fugitives.”

Xaden had an Imagine Dragons phase when he was 12. His favourite song was Thunder.

Whenever Imogen buys tampons, she deliberately chooses the youngest male cashier just to watch him get uncomfortable.

Mira loves to move people’s bookmarks to piss them off. Her favourite targets are Violet and Brennan, but one time she got Syrena and had a pillow thrown at her head.

[junedenim]

have lunch with the english

part 1 part 2

one day at home

warnings: fluff, smut, angst (the triple cocktail)

word count: 10.1k

The plane ride is rough. For the first hour, he zones out and watches the airplane-provided entertainment because that's what Lottie would do. It's episodes of Friends and it grows tiresome around the tenth laugh track. He switches to music in the second hour and in the third hour, after the cold but edible meal, he tries to fall asleep. He thinks he makes it an hour before a baby starts crying. Then, he thinks of Franny but then again everything reminds him of Franny.

He's in and out of sleep after that. The baby cries for the rest of the flight and Friends has switched to Planet Earth so he settles for listening to David Attenborough for the rest of the flight instead. 

The flight lands at 10 AM London time, but he feels like it's 2 AM. It takes him too long to get through customs as someone with a British passport but the guy is certain that his picture doesn't match his face. That's what he gets for updating his passport when he still had the goatee. 

He's still rubbing his eyes going down the escalator. At the bottom, Franny on her hip, stands Lottie. Bell-bottom jeans and that short-sleeve white blouse Franny loves so much because she gets to play with the buttons on it. A distracted Lottie coos Franny, bouncing her on her hip, which means he narrowly missed a crying Franny. Franny, dressed eerily similar to her mother (seriously, this kid ignored all his genes besides his brown hair), giggles ferociously. Lottie laughs back and it's cheesy to say but it mends something in him. Shoots him awake after any restless sleep.

"You look like you were woken by a toddler at 4. Wait, that was me." Lottie is the same as she's always been. She keeps her hair long because Franny likes to tug on it. Her eyes show no signs of tiredness like his do. Her smile, always bright.

Franny makes grabby hands at him as he approaches. Alex takes her, planting a kiss on her chubby cheeks. "I practically was. Baby crying the whole flight. Hi." He grabs the back of Lottie's head and pecks her lips.

Her hand lands on his chest, stroking his collarbone. She puckers her lips in reciprocation. "That poor mother." Lottie holds the belief that Franny likes Alex more than her because Franny never cries when Alex holds her. He finds that untrue but Lottie has always been stubborn in her beliefs.

"Why'd she wake up?" Alex asks. Franny tugs on his hair and falls onto his cheek, her lips slobbering over his cheek. He knows Lottie will likely use this in a later argument she has about who Franny loves more.

"Hungry. Always hungry. And whining 'Papa! Papa!' because I made her eat Cheerios."

Alex huffs. "She doesn't love me more than you, Lot, and since when does she call me Papa?"

Lottie sighs and practically stomps her foot. Sometimes it's like Franny isn't the only toddler. "It's bad enough she loves you more than me, she has to call you dad too. I can't have anything be French. So dull." Yeah, that argument comes up a lot too.

"She calls you maman."

Lottie rolls her eyes. "She calls me 'Ma.'"

Alex laughs. "She can barely get two syllables out. You want her saying se branler."

Lottie bolds her eyes and juts her head out. "Alex! Don't talk about jerking off and our daughter in the same sentence."

Her voice is loud and causes him to look around Heathrow for any shocked onlookers. "When did you become so stuck? I thought the French were supposed to be adventurous."

"She isn't even 2 and you want her to start talking about masturbation. I always knew you were a pig."

He chuckles and kisses her again. He's missed her. He thinks he'll spend his whole life missing her, even though he has her now. Franny just makes that ache even worse. "Where's her stroller?"

"I left it in the car. I didn't want to set up the whole thing if she was going to insist I carry her anyway. I can drag your carry-on."

"No, I got it."

She's got her hands on the handle before he can grab it. "I can manage the carry-on, Alex. You hold your daughter."

Alex wraps his arm around her and there's a crack down his spine where everything aligns again. "What'd my girls get up to while I was gone?" They talked every night—well, night for her, afternoon for him—but hearing it from her in person is always nice.

"Same old. I've got a last-minute opening I have to go to tonight."

"Really? Can I come?"

She looks over puzzled at him. "You want to come to some dumb uni student's gallery opening?"

"Yeah, we'll make a night of it."

"The last time we made 'a night of it' Francoise happened."

"I think Franny's pretty nice."

"Because Francoise likes you."

"Maybe if you called her Franny she'd like you more."

"It sounds like Fanny. I don't want my daughter to be called fanny."

"Shall I start calling you Charlotte then?"

"Ew, even my name is stolen by the English. Why can't she go by her beautiful French name? Is that so hard?"

He finds it's best to change the subject when Lottie gets caught in these knots. "Do you want to go to Bouchon Racine tonight?"

She's giddy and jumping—skipping toward their parked car. "Ooh, can we? Can we?" He laughs at her, so full of childish giddiness, a quality that has only expanded with Franny. "I want to bring home a bucket of their olives."

"You know they are probably the same ones they have at Tesco." They definitely are. When she was pregnant she insisted on olives, olives, olives, and he quickly realized she could never tell the difference between whether the olives were from a can or special-ordered from Bouchon Racine.

"Maybe we should name her Olive," he suggested one night. 

Lottie, who was balancing a bowl nearly overflowing with olives on her stomach, sat up quickly, which was a shocking sight; she must have been 8 months pregnant by that point. "She will not be named Olive. You English naming your children after food. We might as well name her Steak or Potato."

"No, they're not!" She insists. "They coat them in something different. You can't tell. You don't have a refined palette like me."

"Alright, I believe ya."

"Olive," Franny sounds, clapping her hands together.

Lottie points her hand at Franny. "See! Even she knows they're different."

"Do you want me to drive?" He asks.

She thinks for a moment. "Uh, no. I'll do it. I told Francoise we'd go to the park today." She reaches into her pocket and grabs the keys, twirling them around her finger.

"Okay, we can go after we park." They've reached the car and he opens the backseat door for Franny while Lottie places his suitcase in the caboose.

"You sure? I can just take her." 

"Nonsense. I've missed my girls."

"Nonsense," Lottie imitates like he's a ghastly old British man (something she would say he is). She slips into the driver's seat as he secures Franny in her car seat.

She's started the car before he's even in the passenger seat. "Should I call Laurie for tonight?"

"She can't. She has a date tonight," Lottie says as she backs out of the parking spot.

Alex chuckles. "You know when our babysitter has a date?"

"Yes, Alex, unlike you I talk to Laurie."

"I talk to her!" Alex insists.

Lottie snorts and shakes her head. "You pay her at the end of the night like 'uh, here's, uh, your money, miss, uh.'"

"I don't do that. Most women would be happy I don't talk to the babysitter."

"I should be happy you're not making out with the babysitter? What high standards? Especially considering how we started." Yeah, he should have seen that one coming.

"What? Like you regret it?"

"No, and I'm sure when you run off with the babysitter she won't regret it either. Meanwhile, I'll be sitting all alone, except I won't even have branded you, I'll just have a baby."

"If you want me to get it removed, I'll get it removed." Nowadays, the tattoo that sits on his arm is generally covered by his shirt. Sometimes Lottie stares at it in the dead of night.

Lottie rolls her eyes. "Why do I have to want it to be removed? Shouldn't you want it to be removed?"

"When I made the appointment, you told me not to do it."

"I would have told you not to get the tattoo in the first place."

"Well, where were you?"

She giggles and reaches out to fluff her hand through his hair. He gives her a boyish grin, the one that makes him seem a decade younger, traveling through Brussels. Franny erupts in giggles from the backseat and Alex spends the rest of the car ride babbling away with her.

They arrive home around a half hour later, luckily not hitting much traffic. Lottie gets whiny in traffic. The house seems the same as when he left it two weeks ago. Franny's toys scattered on the carpet in front of the TV, Lottie's laptop left open on the kitchen counter, his coffee mug that he left atop his piano still sits empty and unwashed. He's comforted that the painting on Lottie's mini easel is a different unfinished painting meaning she was able to do something other than working and caring for Franny while he was gone.

"Francoise, pourquoi ne montres-tu pas à papa ce que tu as fait?" Franny at nearly 2 years old is better at French than him, go figure.

She walks quickly, scuffing her feet on the wooden floor as she rushes off to her bedroom. "You didn't tell me you finished your painting?" Alex teasingly asks her. Lottie's still so overprotective about it, not wanting him to stare at her while she does it.

Alex sits with a tiresome sigh on the couch. Lottie kneels on the floor, trying to clear some of Franny's plastic kitchen items off the carpet. "That's part of your surprise tonight." She's moving toward him on her knees, closer and closer, until she leans over, placing her hands on his thighs. 

He raises his eyebrows. "My surprise?"

She smirks. "Yeah, you have a surprise tonight. I didn't tell you that?" She leans back on her feet as Franny comes toddling back in with a piece of paper. 

"Papa! Ah, papa!" He swears Lottie's smile turns into a wry Grinch smile.

"It's what you get for being gone," Lottie tells him. She might as well start taunting him with "Nana, nana, boo, boo."

"Look," Franny tells him, lifting up the piece of paper. It's abstract, to say the least. There are squiggles from crayons and a stick figure that has pipe cleaners glued onto its head for hair, which means Lottie did that part. There are paint imprints from flowers, which must be from the small garden Lottie has grown in the backyard. Franny enthusiastically points at these marks so he guesses Lottie let her do that part. 

"You drew this? Are you kidding me? Magritte could never, we're putting this on the fridge."

Franny does that excited squealing thing, claps her hands together, and then she clings to his leg. She looks over at Lottie and says, "Park."

Lottie giggles with delight because Franny really is the cutest thing. Big-eyed baby blues just like her maman and these long lashes that people would kill for. Lottie leans down and wiggles her nose against Franny making her giggle. "Papa might want to take a shower first and relax a little—"

"No, no, we can go now." Franny is jumping up and down.

"You sure?"

Alex stands up, readjusting his trousers. "Yeah, if I relax now I'm just going to fall asleep."

Lottie wrinkles her nose. "You sure you don't want to take a shower."

He reaches his hand down to help her stand up. "I will fall asleep in the shower if I do that."

"Alright, park time," Lottie announces, which causes Franny to repeatedly say "Park! Park! Park!" all through the house. 

"Should I get the stroller out?"

Lottie sighs. "She's not going to sit in it anyway."

"You want to carry her the whole time?"

"No, you're going to carry her the whole time."

Alex huffs a peal of laughter. "Franny." She stops her chanting and snaps her head in Alex's direction. "If we get the stroller out, are you going to sit in it?" She eagerly nods.

Lottie throws her hands at her side. "I had to carry her around all week and the second you come back she's all about the stroller again. I'm going to have hip problems because of this kid."

"Shall we get you a stroller too?"

"You're the one that can't sit on the floor because of your back."

London is quiet, at least, their little section of it. It's still early enough in the morning that the heat of summer hasn't caught them yet but late in the day to avoid work travelers. Alex pushes Franny's stroller while Lottie eats an apple. "I can't remember the last time I had a proper meal. Like a very proper meal." She amusingly tells him, "I think we've had mac & cheese for the past 4 nights." Life depending on it, Lottie can't cook. "I am going to go crazy at Bouchon Racine tonight. You're not going to like me when the bill comes." 

"It's my treat. I have to keep you healthy."

"I'd be a pile of bones without you."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Is it 'Will you marry me?'" That's their biggest problem.

"Lot, come on."

"What? You have to get around to it someday."

"Can we not fight in Princess Diana's playground right now?"

"You're avoiding."

"I'm not avoiding—"

"Yes, you are. You're an avoider, Alex, and it's fine. Continue." She's getting passive-aggressive. 

He doesn't want to ask now. It feels awkward and clunky. "I had this thought the other day. I was telling someone the story of how we met—"

"Were they dazzled?" She's obsessed with how people react to the story. It's the romantic in her. The story is a prize she won and she gets to taunt all the other school children that she has the best story out of all of them.

Alex can't lie either. The story is pretty fucking incredible but her excitement over it—the way she grabs his upper arm tightly and those dimples imprint on her cheeks—that's everything and more. "Yes, and they asked me if I hadn't picked up your book what would you have done?"

"You mean from the train?" He nods. "Probably nothing."

"Really?"

"You're shocked by that?"

"No, but I thought you'd indulge me a bit."

She shrugs. "I would have thought you weren't interested."

"I could never not be interested in you. What about me? You thought I wasn't attractive."

She giggles. "You were very adorable at 21."

"Only adorable?"

She looks over at him and downturns her head. "I did have sex with you. You've only grown hotter with age, Al. Not something all of us can say."

"What? Are you talking about you?"

"I've had a baby. You don't have to suffocate me with delusions of grandeur that I'm hotter than I've ever been. I was the hottest at..." she thinks for a moment "25. You would've liked me at 25."

"I like you now and you're hotter than you've ever been now."

"Please. I'm the only mother on the planet whose boobs got smaller when she had a baby. The only haircut I've had this year is when Francoise cut a chunk off with her play scissors. I was never really fit but now—"

"Hey, every you has fit for me. No version of you will fit better for the version of me I am right now. If I had 25-year-old you, sure you'd be hot, but I'd look like a total creep so this is really all for my benefit."

"Well, if it benefits you then we're fine."

"Exactly."

"Good." They laugh. "I'm plenty happy with my body. You don't have to worry about me. However, looking like you do now, I'd totally get with you at 25."

It's days like this when life feels perfect. The sun shone just right and Lottie looked over at him with that beaming smile. It's good for his ego too. "Yeah, I'd probably get with you too. You'd be more mature than me anyway."

Franny is itching to get out of her seat so they take her over to the slide. They've developed a method where Lottie will stand at the end of the slide to catch Franny and Alex will then pick her up and place her on top of the slide for her to go down once again. They do it because Lottie read that if you go down the slide with your child then you're more likely to injure yourself or them because your foot could get caught and break and your child will be flung across the playground. Alex thinks it's because she told him that when she was little she rode down the slide in a skirt once and exposed her knickers to the whole class, but he doesn't say that. It makes Franny more independent anyway, except for the part where she refuses to climb the stairs to take the slide, therefore insisting Alex pick her up or she'll throw a tantrum. She can barely walk upstairs so he gives in. 

"My maman wants us to visit soon. Start of July maybe."

He hums. "Paris in July. Will it be abandonment or a whole month of banging?"

"Shush. I don't understand why she won't just come here."

"You've been saying you want to go back for ages now."

"Yeah, not with a 2-year-old though. I'm going to be that poor mother trying to calm her baby on the plane."

"Franny is more well-behaved than that baby. We'll be fine. We could take the train."

"The train?"

"Come on. We've had fun on the train. We could go up to Brussels for a weekend. Stay in 505."

She's biting her lips, which means she's tempted. "You just want my maman to look after Franny so you can knock me up again."

"Precisely. We could get a private cabin. It's a quick train ride anyway. I'll make a fool out of myself on the metro for the thousandth time. You'll love it."

"Fine, fine. But you have to call her Francoise the whole time."

"That's fine. Franny can be Francoise in France and Franny in England and the rest of the world."

"No, in French-speaking countries she will be Francoise."

"Which means in English ones she'll be Franny. Franny Wanny Anny." He plays with her limbs making her giggle.

"Fine," Lottie concedes with a straight face.

"I'm going to have to go back out to LA again before that."

She scoffs, "Really?"

"If we're going to spend all of July there. I left some things there."

"You can't have Matt send them to you?"

"We just have to finish some things up."

"Oh, 'some things.'"

"What?"

"Nothing. Just curious," she says evasively. "I'll have to figure out what to do with work."

"You already work remotely anyway."

"I work remotely in London, Alex. You expect me to come up every weekend to attend a gallery in London."

"Tell them you'll do a Paris special."

"It's a London-based company. The point of what I write is for people to go see these exhibits."

"Tell people to take the train."

"Yeah, I don't think that'll work."

"It's not like you need the job anyway."

"I am practically already a stay-at-home mum, Alex. If I don't have a job, I will turn into Mommie Dearest. You need for me to have a job."

"Bill will understand. Your job will be waiting for you when we're back."

"Maybe if I didn't take the biggest maternity leave ever."

"Stop shaming yourself over the leave." Shockingly, pregnancy and birth weren't exactly easy, and nearly 2 years post, Lottie still guilts herself for the extended leave. As if she didn't have to recover from growing a full human being, having her cut out, and then caring for it. Alex thinks he helped the best he could at least when dealing with Lottie's stubbornness and insistence on 50-50, which luckily became 60-40 for her sake.

"It'll all work itself out. And Francoise will go to Brussels for her first time!" Lottie squats down and wraps her arms around Franny's stomach, squeezing her tightly.

"Fine. Franny can come too."

Lottie gasps. She says to Franny, "Papa was so mean. He wasn't going to let you go to Brussels. What a mean, mean man. But maman will take you anywhere she goes."

"What is this? Parental brainwash?"

"I'm simply informing Francoise of the plans. It's a great way to keep her involved and expand her vocabulary."

"Is she going to start burning bras next?"

"Francoise will be a smart activist. She's the smartest baby I know."

"You barely know any other babies."

"That's not true. Did you hear that, Francoise? Your papa just called you stupid. Maman would never say that about such a smart intelligent angel." She rubs Franny's nose, making her wrinkle it up.

"You're really good at this whole twisting my words thing."

"You're just catching on?"

They move over to the bench where Franny sits on Alex's lap, messily eating strawberries. Lottie tries to blot away at the juice that drips from her cheeks. "Gabriel and Brigitte are getting divorced," Lottie informs him.

Alex's jaw drops. "What?"

Lottie purses her lips and nods her head. "Yeah. I haven't gotten the full details from maman because he, of course, has not called me, but, you know, they've been on and off for the last couple of years so now it's—" She moves her hand across her neck to symbolize finished.

"I never thought they would call it quits though," Alex says.

Lottie chuckles. "I did. I'm surprised they lasted this long. They hated each other even when they got married."

"Another reason not to get married."

She drops her hands to her lap along with her face. "Alex."

He feels bad about that one. He kind of feels bad about all of it. Like there's some part of him he can't change. "Sorry. What about the kids?"

Lottie exhales loudly and shakes her head. "No clue. I can't even get him on the phone. I even tried calling her."

"Yeah, how'd that go?" He laughs.

"I'm pretty sure the second she filed for divorce she blocked me. No longer has to put up with me at family functions."

"I missed you," he says because he has to. She's sitting there, wiping her red-stained strawberry hands with an old McDonald's napkin after cleaning up their daughter's sticky face and sometimes he just gets hit with these waves. It usually happens in parks. Brussels Park, Luxembourg Gardens, Kensington Gardens. Ever since that flower behind his ear and that first kiss that sealed it.

She's sardonic as always. "Pft, it was only 2 weeks, Alex." She walks to toss the napkin out, which gives him a good view of her ass so he can't really complain.

When she walks back, she grabs his head, bends down, and kisses his cheek. "Love you."

She stands up and he grabs her hand, squeezing it. "Thanks, Lot."

She forces a smile down and slaps his arm playfully before putting the remnants of the food baggie back under the stroller. He just watches her. He's always loved doing that. 

"We should figure out the babysitter issue."

"Leah's gonna do it." Leah is one of Lottie's friends from university. She's lived in London ever since graduation and the whole reason Lottie made that train ride to Brussels was because she was visiting Leah in London. Leah doesn't know this, of course. Lottie says she'd get too big of an ego.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm telling you now."

"What time?"

"She's coming over at 4 once she picks Jace up from camp."

"When's the gallery start?"

"6, I think."

"So we get 2 hours to ourselves?"

"No, you get 2 hours to take a nap. I have 2 hours to get ready, get my notes together, maybe clean up the house for once."

"Oh, Lottie, we're never cleaning up the house."

"A girl can dream."

"Honey, your studio flat was a mess and you didn't have a baby to blame it on. Our house is never getting cleaned."

"I like a cluttered mess. I don't like mice in my house!"

"There's no mice in the house."

"I hear them in the walls, I swear to you, Alex!"

"It's an old house."

"So the house is falling apart. That makes me feel a lot better, Alex."

"Remember when we used to be fun? Now we're arguing about mice."

"Yes, but it's mice in our house and I like the sound of our house." It's been their house for nearly 3 years but Lottie woos about it like it's freshly done. He gets a warm feeling inside whenever she does.

Lottie tries to put Franny back in her stroller. She, of course, cries. "This child hates me. I'm not going to carry you." 

Franny just cries more, making grabby hands to be picked up. Alex can't help it. She's got tears streaming down her face, those blue eyes swelling. He blames Lottie for putting the curse upon him back in '07. He picks her up. Her cries soften to whimpers.

"Alex," Lottie warns.

"I haven't seen her in 2 weeks. I'm not going to stand her and watch her cry. Besides, she doesn't seem to like me anyway."

Franny reaches her hands out for her mother and it would be rude to refuse such a cute baby. Lottie places her on her hip. "I didn't want to push the stroller anyway."

They head off in no direction in particular. On empty days when they need to kill time, they walk around London with little care. They've never lacked in walking and talking. It seems like they've walked this area of London a million times. When Lottie was pregnant they walked around the area so much that it became a bore and they would take the underground to different parts of London to have another area to explore. Weekends they'd walk along the Thames for hours. The conversation never lulled, even if it had become as dull as I Spy, they'd turn it into a game of laughter. 

"I'm sorry I haven't been around," Alex apologizes. From the moment Lottie got pregnant—probably way before then—he was overcome with the fear of this occurring. Dashing around the planet and leaving Lottie & a baby for endless amounts of time.

Lottie sighs. "You were gone for two weeks. That's nothing."

"That's something. Enough for her to start calling me Papa. I'm missing things. I'm leaving you to eat apples and mac & cheese for days on end—"

Her laughter cuts him off. "Alex, I lived for about 32 years without you, I can manage two weeks."

"Two weeks for Franny's life is like 10% of it."

She can't stop laughing. "No, it's about less than 1%. You avoiding maths in college might not have been the best idea."

"Alright, alright. I just I'm missing it and I'm shoving it off onto you and—"

"Alex, you might want to sit down for this, but she's my daughter too. You spent nearly 2 full years at home while I went back to work."

"You left for 4 hours for a gallery opening. I'll be gone for...too long."

"Baby, my father wasn't even around. You're like ten billion points above him. Gabriel is there every day at his house with his kids and I don't think he once sat down on the floor and played dolls with them. Do you think I'm picking some loser to have a kid with?"

"Maybe for the royalty checks." He cracks a bit, a hint of a smile approaching. 

"Have more faith in me." She reaches up and tucks a tuft of his hair behind his ear. "It's okay to have a life outside of us."

And like always, she makes everything make sense. He takes her hand, the one pinching his earlobe and kisses the back of it with a tenderness they've always had. The one that makes him ache even when she's here to heal it. 

"I'll still feel bad about it," he says.

"Well, you better," she says bluntly. He's laughing and she's laughing and Franny just looks confused but she laughs too. "It's called parental guilt. It's what prevents us from eating the suckers."

Alex rubs his stomach. "But Franny looks so tasty." He leans over, chomping the air toward her. 

She's squealing, clutching onto Lottie with all her might, insisting, "No, no, Daddy, not me!"

Alex sighs and pulls away. "Fine, but all because you gave me one of your strawberries."

They're walking through Kynance Mews where Lottie does her usual musing. "I wish we lived here." She's slow, admiring each inch of wisteria and how it crawls over the buildings. She does this every time. It started when she was pregnant and she insisted Franny kicked harder when they were here. It has only persisted to a greater degree. Her enthrallment with nature is deep. It's why they have a garden in the backyard. She explains each inch to Franny in such a soft voice Alex has trouble hearing, but Franny's quiet. Her eyes follow where her mother points and her lips part in her usual way but she looks blown away.

"You're only about 10 minutes away from it," Alex points out.

Lottie rolls her eyes. "I know I can look at it. I want to live in it. With the cobble-stoned streets and nature overtaking architecture. It's so peaceful." As they walk, she gazes around the mew like it's the first time she's seen it.

Alex looks on at her, a smile perks his cheeks. "It reminds you of home."

She meets his eyes. "Maybe. With the arches and the way my feet click on the street." Franny is squirming in her arms so Lottie sets her down and she goes running off to a tiny plant that's about her height. "But I like it here."

"London or here specifically?" He questions.

"Well, I meant in London but, yeah, here." She puts her hands in her pockets finally able to rest them.

"Me too. Life makes sense, you know?"

She laughs. "No." Her eyes are away from him, watching Franny. "But I don't think it's supposed to. I think this is the closest we'll get. I felt that when Franny was born, you know?"

He nods. "I forgot what it felt like to be excited over nothing." Franny is hugging the plant.

Lottie turns to him and shakes her head. "It's not nothing. For her, it's the first time she's hugged a plant."

"I don't think I ever hugged a plant. I hated nature as a kid."

She's smiling wide, beaming. "Francoise, honey, papa is going to hug the plant now."

"Lottie." Alex chuckles and shakes his head. 

But Lottie has already got her hands on his shoulders pushing him toward the tiny plant. Franny is giddy and Lottie is giddy and he's a fool. "Come on, come on, come on!" Franny shouts, her tiny hands tugging on his fingers.

"Alright, alright. The person who lives here is going to think I'm a psycho."

"Plants need love too," Lottie defends.

"Yeah," Franny repeats, "plants need love too."

So, he bends down with a crack in his knees and hugs the plant loosely. Franny claps and Lottie is snapping a picture on her camera. "Adorable!" She cheers.

"Now let's get out of here before they call the police on me."

Franny tugs on his hand. "Shoulders, pweaseeeeeee!" Those eyes should be outlawed. Puppy dog ocean eyes gazing up on that cupcake face, begging him.

Alex looks over at Lottie and she understands. With a huff, she says, "I'll push the stroller."

Franny is already clapping her hands excitedly. Alex picks her up, lifting her over his head, and sitting her onto shoulders. She clutches the ends of his hair like she's stirring him. "Thank you!" She shouts.

"She's going to be such a spoiled brat," Lottie tells Alex.

"Hey, she said thank you," Alex reasons. Lottie is probably right. They give in—he gives in a lot to Franny's will but she's too hard to say no to and she's well-behaved for the most part so he'll give in and carry her on his shoulders and if she'll cry one day when he doesn't.

"Love you, maman," Franny calls down.

Lottie gasps and stops walking. A giant smile spreads across her face as she looks up at Franny. She shakes the little girl's foot. "Well, aren't you the sweetest girl in the world!"

"She's a very smart girl," Alex says as they walk again.

"She has your charm," Lottie says begrudgingly. She's too quick to fall to the smooth words he speaks. He's grateful for it. It might be the only upper hand he has with Lottie. It's probably the only reason he has Lottie. Tucked away in his songs leading them to meet again in Paris. 

They start heading home. Franny is tapping on his head and Lottie walks a step ahead of him with the stroller. "What should we do now?" He asks her.

She turns around, biting her lip.

He instantly knows what she's thinking. "You're such an art nerd."

"I am not!" She defends. Alex gives her a knowing look. "Maybe. But I want to go because Francoise gets so excited over the sculptures and it's the cutest thing ever and she's the cutest thing ever and you're the second cutest thing ever and you and me in art museums is always fun and it's free so let's do it."

"You make a convincing argument."

He stays silent as she slowly smiles and bats her lashes. "I'll give you a kiss."

"Fine, but I get a foot rub at the end of the night."

She moves closer to him. "Oh, just a foot rub. No other kind of rub. That's fine."

He laughs. "Shut up. Come here." He wraps his arm around her lower back and kisses her lips, strong and hard. The kind that would usually have them running home to fuck. But that was before Franny.

When they walk into the Victoria & Albert Museum, Lottie takes Franny to her hip, and Alex checks the stroller. As usually happens at museums, Lottie becomes a tour guide. "I love these altarpieces."

"It's the repressed Catholic in you," Alex says. 

Lottie chuckles. She leans closer as if they haven't stood before the St. Margaret altarpiece a hundred times before. "All that little detail."

"And it's from the 1500s!"

Lottie turns back at him with a face etched with annoyance. "You're mocking me."

"Never." She stares intensely at him making him feel apologetic. He mutters, "Sorry." He sounds like Franny after she spills her cereal. 

Lottie smiles, pleased by the apology. She bounces Franny on her hip, trying to keep her calm and interested. "They tried to kill her and couldn't," she tells her.

"I thought they beheaded her in the end," Alex states.

Lottie turns back, annoyed again. "I was getting there."

They slowly walk through the museum, into various rooms. They venture up to the stained glass section, one not often looked through. It's usually toward the end of their visits and feet are worn out or Franny is cranky. 

Alex, ahead of his girls, walks back to them and tugs on Lottie's arm. "I've got something to show you."

"What? Are you on display here?"

"While I might be the great find in your collection," Alex says, getting a laugh out of Lottie, "it's just a little thing."

"Okay." They walk past stained glass windows and sacred silver. 

They land in front of one. "I know it might be stupid but...you know."

She looks at the piece. A stained glass panel with an angel with a sword in one hand, a scale in his other weighing the soul of a woman. "It's very pretty."

"And you claim I don't notice anything. It's Saint Michael."

She looks back at him and it clicks. He's beaming with pride in himself like he discovered the Mona Lisa or something. "Do you want to steal it?"

"We could probably just take it," he jokes. "Nobody cares about him as much as we do."

Lottie giggles. "I think some Christians might argue with you." The saint had become a thing between them. On their one-year anniversary right before she got pregnant, he gave her a Saint Michael pendant necklace and she said, "Is this blasphemy?" She doesn't wear it often. It's tucked away in her jewelry box. She usually elects to wear one necklace at a time. Nine times out of ten, it's that shitty one purchased from the babushka. She fiddles with it, Franny fiddles with it, and Alex fiddles with it. It's like some unity stone connecting everything.

Later, when they've returned home, Alex takes a nap. Franny easily occupies herself with toys before Leah picks her up. The second the front door closes behind them it's like a siren sounded, alerting Alex who walks into the living room just like Franny does after a nap. He's rubbing eyes and yawns. He might as well be carrying a stuffed animal.

"I have to get ready!" Lottie instantly says, walking straight past him. 

"Oh, come on, we don't have to be there for another 2 hours."

"I have to shower. You have to shower. I have to get ready. You have to get ready. I have to get some notes together. No time."

He walks to her at a tortoise's pace and hunting stare. "So, let's do it together."

"What?"

Alex bends down at a hare's pace and throws Lottie over his shoulder, a screech coming from her lips. "I have to shower. You have to shower." Lottie's giggling, patting her hands on his ass, and kicking her feet.

"Fine but you have to wash my hair," she reasons. He knows she loves that without needing her to say it. He loves it when she does it, even if she always gets shampoo in his eye.

He plops her down on the tiled floor and starts the shower. She's already shed her clothes when he turns back around. He whistles. Lottie rolls her eyes. "Stop it, pig."

"I'm an admirer of art." He wraps his hands around her body, tugging her close. Her boobs up against his shirt. "Seriously, they should be writing pieces about this body."

"Isn't that what you do?" She's flirty, which is a good sign.

He's kissing her, close, tight, together. A true proper kiss. Lottie pulls away with a huff and enters the shower, which means Alex practically rips his clothes off to get in the shower.

"The last time we had a Francoise-free night was back in February when your parents came down." She hands him her shampoo and turns her back to him.

"No," Alex disagrees. "It can't be that long ago." His hands are soothing and meticulous in their kneading.

"Yes, they came down on the week of Valentine's Day, and when we've had Laurie watch her it's only been for nights out. We haven't had the house by ourselves overnight since February."

"Jesus. Then why am I shampooing your hair?"

"Because you're a good man."

"A good man? I thought I was a pig?"

She hums. "Your patience has changed my mind. Besides, I can call you a pig in a few minutes when you try to finger me."

Alex fakes a gasp. "What cruel man would try to please a woman? I would have you blow me."

She's giggling and sending vibrations through him, her back to his stomach. His cock is against her ass, growing harder and harder with each movement.

It starts with him kissing her neck and then she's turning around and getting on her knees. She takes him in her mouth. Her tongue is playing on his tip, swirling around getting him all flustered. She knows exactly what to do. They've done this a hundred times now and yet it still feels like he is experiencing it for the first time.

She takes him fully in her mouth. One hand playing with his balls, the other holding his thigh. It's wet and messy. The water from the showerhead beats down hard on his head and Lottie is giving good head. Every time she pops off, she comes back taking him an inch further and further. He nearly comes down her throat when he hits the back of it. 

He's a moaning mess. It's something about the environment. Probably knowing he can be as loud as he wants with no curious ears. Definitely because Lottie is licking up his shaft with such care. "Fuck, Lot," he says. He throws his head back and he's not sure if his cum lands on her or not, either way, it's circling down the drain when he's finally able to open his eyes. "Fuck, you're a saint."

She furrows her brows. "Then why am I on my knees?"

Alex raises an eyebrow. "You want me on my knees?"

"I want to take a shower," she says. She grabs his hand to help her stand up.

He scoffs, "God, how boring of you."

"You have to condition my hair," she insists. 

He listens and carefully applies the product just how she likes it, letting it soak in. He detaches the showerhead from its stand, moving it closer to her head, the conditioner slowly washing away. Lottie has always liked the showerhead, specifically the water pressure. She raves about it like it's some Michelin Star showerhead. 

Alex drops the showerhead to his side, pets her hair back, and wraps an arm around Lottie's waist. "Job well done?" He asks.

She's rubbing the water out of her eyes as she nods. He moves the shower head so it's right around her. "Alex," she giggles. She tries to move but his arm has locked her in.

"What?" He asks, moving the head closer to her core. 

"We have to wash your head," she insists.

Alex says into her ear, "Uh, no, no. I don't think we have to do that right now." She's squirming, which he knows means it feels so good and hits her just right. Her clit is beaten with the water and she's trying to hold her noises in. "Let it out."

She's groaning and rutting her hips in an effort to achieve her high quickly. The water is a torturous pleasure. A hands-free application for getting off. She isn't sure what to do with her hands so she hangs onto Alex's arm holding her in. It's the only thing keeping her arm. His body is a wall for her to thrash upon. Then, she's whining before she's coming in full force. It's enough for her body to shake and for Alex to feel pride in his innovative thinking. 

He keeps his arm around her to keep her steady as he returns the showerhead to its holder. "Good, huh?" He asks teasingly.

She's panting and can't say much, so she just nods. After she washes her and they dry off in their towels, with the remaining 45 minutes, he lets Lottie get ready.

Alex is lying on their bed, still undressed minus his underwear. He's always enjoyed watching Lottie get ready. The way she darts in and out of their closet, holding a piece up to her body in the mirror, putting it back, trying a piece on, putting it back. She'll mess with her hair, up, down. She'll dash off into the bathroom to do her makeup before redoing her hair all over again.

She's always particular about it. She told him once she liked the act of getting ready. She liked the chaos and her clothes thrown about on the floor. He thinks she especially likes it when he cleans the mess up for her. 

Now, she's settled on a little black dress. She said once she didn't think she had the ability to pull mini dresses or skirts anymore after Franny was born. He said that was idiotic and pleaded with her to never stop wearing her minis. She's continued the habit since. Mostly in this summer heat but it makes him a little happy to know that she's watching him watch her as she pulls on the dress and asks him to zip it on for her. Then, she goes over to their bureau and slips on her Saint Michael necklace.

When she catches his eye in the mirror, she asks, "When are you going to get ready, mister?"

He sighs. "Okay, I'm up." He hops out of bed and hides away in the closet. His daily attire isn't much different from what he's wearing tonight. Something he knows she'll make fun of him for. "Do you want to take the tube?"

"Do I want to take the tube?" She repeats like it's some shocking piece of news.

"Yeah." He steps out of the closet, readjusting his suit jacket. She's putting on a black-heeled Mary Jane and staring at him bewildered. "Don't have to deal with parking and it'll be like old time's sake."

She sighs, "Fine. If my feet hurt you have to carry me on your shoulders like Francoise."

He bends down and kisses the top of her head. "Deal."

Typically on nights out, they'll drive the car, and since they haven't had many nights out without Franny the car has always been the easy choice when it's all three of them. The District line is packed enough that they have to stand against the pole. Alex likes this, even if it's shaky and hurts Lottie's feet. He wraps his arm around her and gets to keep her close as a means of keeping them steady. 

"You didn't even get to tell me about LA. I just babbled about myself the whole time," Lottie says in between Embankment and Westminster. 

Alex sighs. "It was good. I told you most of it on the phone. Worked, hung out with people, the usual drill. Would've been more fun if you had come with me."

"One day maybe. I don't like leaving Francoise so far away and she's too young for that kind of trip. Maybe next year when you're on tour."

"Yeah." He smiles. He can picture it. Them by the ocean. Lottie in a bikini, Franny in her cute little sun hat. A walk up to Griffith Observatory. Lottie insisting they go to the Walk of Fame then calling it stupid after seeing all the tourist traps. Trips to the Museum of Art, The Getty Museum, The Broad, Hammer Museum, whichever one or all of them. "I'd like that. You'll have to pick your favourite cities you want to join us for."

"I'd want all of them." She stares up at him softly. A sad smile plays on her first for a moment but they still have months before he'll be away. They'll figure it out. They always do. "But I'll make a list. Maybe leave Francoise with my maman for a couple of weeks and join you somewhere nice."

"Like Boston?" She wraps her arms around his neck, tugging him close, and giggling into his neck.

The gallery is small but decently packed. The paintings are abstract in a Jackson Pollock way that he's never quite understood but Lottie explained it to him once and it made sense. She doesn't seem to be enjoying this one. Her face is stuck in a frown but she holds the free champagne in her hand in a relaxed way, which means it can't be horrible.

"I liked the first one," he whispers in her ear. Her eyes follow where his eyes have landed—an art piece made of shattered glass that sits at the gallery's front doors. She snorts and crashes her head into his chest. "What?" He chuckles.

She lifts her head, just enough for him to see her. "That's a mirror that broke."

"No, it's..." he trails off looking at the object.

"A mirror that broke," she finishes.

"God, this art sucks."

She loudly shushes him. "I agree with you but I don't want the poor artist to overhear."

They take a few more minutes, trying to observe everything as best they can. He leans down to her ear. "Bouchon Racine."

She lets out a heavy breath. "Yes please."

They shuffle through the crowd quickly, her heels can be heard hitting the wood of the floor. They leave their glasses on the front desk and Alex leads them out of the building. "I swear I was going to suffocate in there."

Lottie giggles. "You are aware you don't have to wear a suit jacket 24/7."

"I like how I look in a suit," he says, all sweet and innocently.

She grabs his upper arm, shelving her head on his shoulder. "I like how you look in a suit."

"Nah, it's got nothing on you in that dress." He tugs on her waist, urgent and needy. "Very hot, Madame Guess."

She rolls her eyes. "Mademoiselle," she corrects. A pit forms in his stomach. He feels bad. These unintentional slip-ups keep occurring. She ignores the misstep. "I'm glad Bouchon is so close by because I'm hungry."

Their table is in the back right next to a wall. They look over their menus but they both already know what they want. They get the olives as a starter but Alex only eats one and leaves the rest for Lottie. "I want a bunny," she says.

Alex laughs. "Who are you? Franny?" Franny has this little bunny she sleeps with every night. Alex's dad got it for her when she was born and they think she'll have it forever. Despite having it for so long, she cares for it so cautiously that other than some slobber and stains, it's in a near-perfect condition.

"I think we should get a pet or something."

"Or another baby," he suggests.

"I'm not having another baby," Lottie casually announces. She sips her wine and looks away like her serious tone is no big deal. 

"Lottie."

She ignores him. "I wish Cadbury Eggs were in season year-round." Their dishes come and the conversation drifts away. 

Lottie is cutting her chicken and tells him, "Last night, Francoise came into our room in the middle of the night. She had a bad dream and she was telling me about it and she was lying, you know, on your side of the bed, and the whole time I'm thinking I'm talking to Alex."

He smiles so big it turns into a laugh. "Really?"

"Yeah, I mean, she's so imaginative and she talks the same way you do—dreams the same way you do. She's got this active mind and she's so creative in the way she tells these things just like you. And she was so cute, you know how she is under those big covers, her body so small but so wiggly. She was like how you get in the morning when you stretch out."

"I'm glad she's a little like me. She looks just like you."

She shakes her head. "I don't think so. You should've seen her last night. You would've thought you were looking in a mirror."

"All that creative stuff is from you too. That drawing she gave me today. You know what it reminds me of."

Lottie lands her head in the palm of her right hand laughing. "No, it does not."

"Yes, it does. It looks exactly like that drawing you did of me. It even had the flower prints around it like the ones you drew." In the first month, when they hid out in her little Parisian apartment, she sketched him one morning while they sat near her little Juliet balcony, drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette between them. 

She concedes. "She's smarter than both of us."

And that he'll agree with.

After dinner, with an extra takeaway order of olives, they walk down the street for a box of macarons to cap off the French cuisine night. They take one each and put the rest away with the olives. 

"I wish I could bake," she says as she bites into her raspberry macaron. "Or you could bake. I wish one of us could bake."

"I'll learn for you," he says. "It'll be shit but it'll be better than whatever you make."

"I'd tell you to fuck off with that if it weren't true."

A lull of silence falls between them and he feels that questioning pit in his stomach. He finishes his vanilla one and once they cross the street he asks, "So, that thing about no more kids earlier."

"Hm?"

"We've never talked about it before but, you know, I'd like another one, maybe." He's trying to tread lightly. It's weird to not know where Lottie stands on something. He always figured she wanted more. Her words always seemed to be that way.

"I don't think so."

"Oh, okay."

"Why would we even have another kid if we're not going to get married?"

This neverending argumentative contention between them. "Lottie—"

"I just don't understand it," she's calm when she says this, unlike other times. The heat between them always tends to rise when they have this discussion that they never get to actually talk through it.

Before he can say anything, she boils over. "I mean, you want to have another kid but we won't get married."

"That's not it."

"That is it! How is it not it?" 

"Can we not fight right now?"

"You always do this! You always deflect everything!"

He grabs her forearm, stopping her from walking. "I'm not deflecting, I just don't want you to be screaming at me in the middle of the street."

The ride home is silent. He doesn't think that's ever happened before between them. Even when she was in labour they talked on the ride over. It's unnerving and he feels like something is lodged in his throat.

When they leave the underground, she walks five steps ahead of him and never gives him the chance to catch up so he figures he'll give her the physical space she needs. He walks with his hands in his pockets and looks down at his shoes. She walks with her arms crossed.

At home, she storms back into their bedroom without a word, slamming the door. "Can we talk about this? Come on." He stands in the living room. He drops to the couch, running his hands through his hair frustratingly. 

He hears the door click open and she comes rushing back out shoeless. She stops a few feet away from him. Her arms are crossed, her foot tapping the floor. "Well?"

Alex leans with his arms on his knees. "I don't know what you want me to do, Lottie."

"What I want you to do?" She's already firing up and he knows he can't stop it. "What do you want to do? It shouldn't be about what I want you to do. I'm not some control freak, Alex."

He scoffs, "No, you're not, but then you yell at me for every decision I make. You hold it against me like I forced you to do it."

She huffs, "No, I do not!"

Alex rolls his eyes and leans back against the couch. "Yeah, right."

"I moved to a whole other country for you! I had a baby for you!"

"Yes, yes, Lottie, in the ultimate sacrifice polls you're winning. Sorry, I've made your life so hard."

"Throw your own pity party, Alex. I don't want to deal with it." She's walking away, bitter and superior, and he can't take it.

"And that little display of yours. The poor French girl kidnapped from her home and impregnated against her will. Everything we've done has been mutual. We decided on London together. When you got pregnant we decided to have Franny. Don't act like I forced that on you."

"Then why won't you marry me?"

"I never said I didn't want to marry you."

"Are you kidding me?! You have shunned the idea completely. When I got pregnant and I wanted to get married you said it was because I had abandonment issues." He winces at that one. The last time they fought about this like they are doing now—full-out and acidic—he was mean, bringing up her dad. He's apologized for it ever since and he was right in thinking Lottie never forgave him for it.

"I didn't want you to think I married you because of Franny," he explains.

"I'm in this relationship too. I know how I feel about you and I was confident in the way you felt about me." Was. Had he really fucked up that badly? "You told me so!" He remembers. It was on the bathroom floor at her old place. A positive test sitting on the floor in front of them, everything felt right. 

"And I asked you then and you said that you didn't want me to be forced into it. Every time I've tried you've shut me down. I don't know what the fuck you want me to do, Lottie."

"I want you to want to do it. You ask me in the middle of a fight or when I've brought it up. It's a second thought to you."

"But it's not something I want to do." He just wants to be honest.

There are tears in his eyes and he feels like the biggest jerk ever. "Why?"

He shrugs. "It's just not my thing. But I'll do it if you want it."

She seems so small to him. Her hands are behind her back and she's looking down at her feet. "I want you to want me to be your wife."

"Lottie," he consoles. He stands up making his way over to her. "I do. I'm not going to shack up with some other chic—" he stops himself. Her eyes dart away from him, looking at the opposite wall from him. "Is this what this is about? You think I'm going to leave you."

She shrugs. "Once a cheater."

He's taken aback by it. He has to catch his breath for a moment. "Wow. You did that too, you know."

"What with my once-every-six-months boyfriend? You had a whole life with her—"

"No, I had a relationship with her. I have a life with you. I have a kid with you! Isn't that some sense of permanency?

"You have her name tattooed on your arm!"

"I thought we put this shit to bed years ago. Why do you have to dig it up? You don't think I feel horrible about that? I thought you were never a possibility. You know what it was like and if I could have done it differently I would have. If we got together in 2007 it would have never been an issue."

"You're going back to me not showing up in 2007. That's a new one, Alex. You're running on such low material you have to pull that out. You want me to be some housewife for you—"

He talks over her, "What are you talking about?!" 

"I was doing something for my career, for my life. Sorry, I didn't care about a stupid boy enough to mess with my whole future."

"It was a dumb comment. Why do you have to make it into such a huge issue? You're making a molehill out of a mountain." 

"I don't even know what that means but at least I'm better than you. You never even bothered with French."

"You're just bringing up every problem you have with me. What next? You don't like that I drive on the left-hand side of the road? You want to go through the problems I have with you, huh?"

"Yeah. Tell me how awful I am."

"That!" He points his finger at her. "You think everything is some attack against you."

"Right now it feels like it is."

"You're not a victim. Not against me. You're going to have a hard time getting rid of me, Lottie. I will be with you in whatever way you want but just because I don't want to have a wedding and I don't care about marriage that doesn't mean I love you any less. I loved you when I met you and that was that. Maybe I am a horrible guy that I was with other people and still thinking about you but I don't really think about everything else now that I'm with you. You and Franny are all I think about. You're all that matters."

She's got tears streaming down her face. He steps closer and wipes them away, holding her face in his hands. "You're a real sucker." She wetly giggles. "I love you. Did you know that?"

He shrugs. "I had a feeling." He kisses her softly and chastely. Some seal of love after a rough night. "Do you wanna go to bed now?"

"I don't want to have sex, Al."

He kisses her cheek. "I just want to lie with you. I'm really tired anyway."

She giggles. "Me too."

She wears one of his ratty old t-shirts and his boxers. He wears just his boxers and pulls her on top of him, skin-to-skin. They hold each other. No talking, just touch. She tucks herself in the nook of his neck and he rubs up and down her back until he feels her fall asleep. He falls asleep sometime after her.

Then, something wakes him up at around 4 AM. He thinks it's Franny at first but then he remembers she's not here. Lottie lies still beside him and he figures it must just be his jetlag. He thinks about getting up but doesn't. For a while, he hopes he'll fall asleep and then he starts to think.

He nudges Lottie awake. She stirs for a bit. She tosses and turns before finally opening her eyes. "What? What's wrong?"

"Do you want to get married in Brussels?"

She's sleepy and still gaining cognizance. "What?"

"In July, I'd like to get married in Brussels. We could do it at the Town Hall. Can you do it in the Town Hall?"

She shakes her head against her pillow. "I don't know."

"Well, if we can, I'd like to do it there."

"With Saint Michael looking down." He nods. "Who knew you were such a religious guy?"

"Do you want to?" He rounds an arm around her waist. "Please say you want to."

Lottie nods. "Yeah. I want to."

"Good. Should Franny be our witness? Our flower girl?"

"Aw!" She coos. "She'd be such a cute flower girl. I'm going to find her the cutest dress." 

"You can plan the rest. I just want my two girls and Saint Michael."

*

a/n: i really wanted to get this out there so it hasn't gotten the full read-through. hopefully, it makes sense or my mistakes gave you a laugh. this is probably the last full part i'll do for this series unless i get struck with inspiration again. i might do some vignettes from it. either way, thanks for reading it!

[hard-core-super-star]

cross that line again [Y.Belova + K.Bishop]

pairing: kate bishop x kate bishop; yelena belova x yelena belova

summary: kate calls yelena for help fixing the mess she created. things don't exactly go to plan and the russian is forced to face some uncomfortable truths about her desires.

warnings: SMUT -> minors do not interact [selfcest; porn with little plot; character exploration in the midst of spicy stuff; yelena seduces herself; face sitting/cunilingus; fingering; yelena's in a bit of a domme mood; bishova is more than implied; did not proofread this enough

wordcount: 5k

a/n: a second commission has hit the blog! (yes, this is a smosh reference, shut up-) i was absolutely captivated by this idea the first time around and this second part did not disappoint. i don't write for yelena very often so getting to explore her character like this was super interesting for me. i think that's all i have to say, hope you enjoy and thanks for the support <3

[buy me a coffee]

* * * * * * *

If two days ago you would have told Kate that she'd be waking up in the morning next to herself, she would have assumed you were playing a joke on her. Sure, she'd seen a lot of weird things ever since becoming an official Avenger but that was a bit much.

At least that's what she would have thought at any other time.

Today, though, the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was herself. Looking at her with a smile brighter than the sun coming in through the windows.

"Hey, you."

She was still getting used to hearing her voice come from somewhere that wasn't her own mouth. It was strange but she found herself getting more and more used to the familiarity hidden inside those pale blue eyes.

Sure, they were the same person and all but that didn't stop her thoughts from wandering whenever they looked at each other too long. It'd been so long since she'd felt like this for anyone and she'd be an idiot to ignore her desires.

"Morning, sunshine," she replied. "Sleep well?"

"Hell yes." Somehow, the smile on her face grew wider. "I feel reborn."

"I don't think that's because of the sleep, though." The smirk on her face made the double meaning in her words more than clear.

Her other self laughed, her hand coming up to playfully punch her shoulder. "Shut up, jerk."

"Jerk? That's not what you were calling me last night."

She was sure she'd never seen someone blush so hard so far. It was one of the most adorable things she had ever seen and she filed away the new discovery for later.

"Oh my god, shut up!"

"Make me." Her hands gripped the brunette's hips and she pulled her closer, laughing at the way she instantly tried to hide her flustered face in her neck.

"You're the worst."

She could hear the smile in her words and in turn, she snuck her hands under her shirt, drawing random shapes just to hear her gasp. "You're such a crybaby, Kate."

"Stop talking," she grumbled, getting her revenge by attaching her lips to a particularly sensitive spot on her neck.

Kate let out a soft gasp of her own at the feeling and she took advantage of the moment to dig her nails into the brunette's skin.

They spent most of the morning like this, riling each other up until the teasing grew to be too much to bear and they ended up tangled in each other. Over and over and over again.

Guess they really did sleep better than they had in months considering how much energy they had.

It took a long time, and more than a few orgasms, before they were able to keep their hands to themselves long enough to get up from her bed. It took all her self-restraint to not follow past Kate into the bathroom after she announced she was going to shower. She really really wanted to but she held back in order to call Yelena and briefly update her on what had happened.

Needless to say, the Russian didn't believe a single word she said and accused Kate of taking one too many edibles. Instead of arguing more ("That was one time, 'Lena!"), she simply told the blonde to come over and help them figure out what to do next.

She did sort of leave out the part about her and her other self being…more than friendly with each other but they'd cross that bridge when they got there.

A bridge that got way too close way too fast.

It wasn't like she wanted Yelena to walk in on them in the middle of an unplanned make-out session. But of course, the Russian decided to let herself into the apartment, without making any noise because she's "far more talented than that", and caught them in quite a…compromising position.

In her defense, it was hard to concentrate on making breakfast for them when the other brunette was wrapping her arms around her and kissing her neck. They were lucky she did it before she turned the stove on.

That did mean she ended up getting turned around and pressed up against the fridge but she didn't really mind.

At least, until Yelena coughed loudly and broke them out of their lust-filled bubble.

"Shit!" They exclaimed as they broke apart, their faces wearing matching blushes.

"You…you were not lying." She was sure she'd never seen Yelena look so genuinely shocked before. "There are two of you."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Kate said with an affectionate eye roll. "Tell me something I don't know."

"First, you have to tell me how this happened."

The Kate's shared a quick glance, the softness in their eyes directed toward the blonde and the way certain phrases still flew over her head. It was incredibly endearing but they'd never tell her that (mainly because she would instantly kill them afterward).

Despite the incredibility of their situation, they told Yelena everything that happened. Well, almost everything. They told her about the witch coven and the weird spell and the time travel but not about their hookup. Maybe it was silly considering she'd seen them making out and all but they still decided against it.

It would have all been fine if the blonde hadn't noticed something while they were in the middle of planning their move against the coven.

"Bishop," she said, her eyes trained on the side of Kate's neck. "What is that?"

"What's what?" Kate responded as her hand instinctively came up to cover her neck like she was a teenager sneaking around her mom's back again.

One simple look from the blonde had her wishing she didn't try to hide the truth from her. Damn Yelena and her scary assassin glare.

"Do not play dumb with me." Her tone left no room for sarcastic responses or stupid jokes.

"It's a, uh…a hickey," she mumbled, her eyes shifting from Yelena to her alternate.

They shared a long look, although the other brunette looked far too amused for her liking, and completely missed the shock that covered the Russian's face. Shock that was mixed with a bit of curiosity…and a lot of confusion.

"How does that even work?"

Past Kate jumped at the opportunity to answer far too quick for her to stop her from talking. "Well, when two people like each other very much-"

"Shut up!" She smacked the other brunette's shoulder right as she erupted into laughter. Of course, only she could find embarrassing her funny.

Yelena let out a long sigh at their antics. "That is not what I meant, Kate Bishop."

The disappointment in her voice made Kate laugh too and it helped reassure her that at the very least, she didn't think there was something wrong with them for being with each other in such an intimate way.

She most certainly thought it was weird but she couldn't blame her for that when even they thought it was weird. But good. Very good considering the way past Kate moaned their name all night.

It was incredibly hard for both of them to focus after that, especially since they could now be as affectionate as they wanted without feeling awkward about it. Kate had always dreamed about having a partner who allowed her to be touchy and borderline clingy without getting annoyed with her. She just never dreamed about said partner being herself.

It made more sense than she'd like but she wasn't about to complain. Not when the other archer knew exactly what she liked, how she liked it, and how often she needed it.

She could definitely get used to this.

Yelena, on the other hand, did not want to get used to this. To the way the Kates clung to each other, whispering snarky little comments to each other and and making each other giggle nonstop.

It wasn't like she was jealous or anything, she was simply annoyed that it took them an extra hour to come up with a plan since the handsy brunettes kept getting distracted by each other. It also didn't help that Kate was the only one out of them who had actually been inside the coven's meeting place and she couldn't focus for more than a minute at a time.

She was used to her short attention span but this was getting ridiculous.

It didn't help that there were two of them and she was the only one genuinely trying to solve their problems. Problems that would have been avoided had Kate actually listened to her for once and avoided interacting with their target.

She wished she could be mad but, sadly, the archer was too endearing for her to be genuinely upset at her. (She could practically hear Natasha making fun of her for being such a "softie" after all.)

Thankfully, they managed to somehow come up with a plan that didn't totally sound like a failure and didn't include them crashing through the ceiling of the hideout.

That being said, she still thought it was a shitty plan. Especially since it relied on Kate not getting distracted by her affectionate alternate.

She decided not arguing was the best course of action and before she knew it, she was getting dragged along by two overconfident archers. There was no rush but neither of them listened to her (what a surprise) and insisted they put their plan in action sooner rather than later.

Her initial complaints about bringing no supplies with her were instantly silenced by "future" Kate who reminded her of all the things she'd stored in the spare bedroom. Maybe storing some of her weapons and vests at the archer's apartment hadn't been the worst idea in the world.

And no, she wasn't just saying that because it made the brunette smile when she admitted she had been right.

Unfortunately, it seemed like Kate was worse than a broken clock and she could only be right once a day. She wasn't sure why she still blindly trusted her when it was clear she was the worst strategist she'd ever met.

That being said, the archer did technically manage to get them inside the building without much hassle. It was what happened afterward that solidified how little she should trust her from now on.

When Kate told her what had happened when she faced the coven the first time, she conviniently forgot to mention the part where they were looking for Yelena. And now the archer had brought her right to the witches doorstep.

"I have to give it to you, Ms. Bishop," the so-called leader said. "You have a way of making my job way easier."

She cursed under her breath, her annoyance growing as two pairs of slightly panicked blue eyes found each other.

They had done everything right, or at least they thought they had. They'd even listened to Clint's usual advice! They watched from afar, cut the lights and caused a distraction to make sure the leader was left by herself. The plan couldn't have been more badass than that!

And yet here they all were.

"What? Not even two of you can come up with something to say?"

"Only I can make fun of them," Yelena said, her hand already reaching for her knife. "And you are not as smart as you think you are."

"Bold words coming from exactly the person I was looking for."

"There is one thing you clearly do not know about me," the Russian said as she pulled out her knife, her feet carrying her closer to the woman. "I do not waste time chit-chatting."

Kate grimaced while she watched her do the one thing she told her not to do: rush at her enemy. She shouldn't have been surprised, though. When did she actually listen to her?

Both archers did what they could to back Yelena up but what happened next was inevitable.

One second, Yelena was right in front of her, knife in hand as she charged at the coven leader.

Then, she blinked.

And the blonde was gone.

Thankfully, the other archer managed to tackle the witch as Kate stared dumbfounded at the spot where the Russian had just been.

It took her a few seconds to realize what her sudden disappearance meant.

Yelena had been sent back in time.

Shit.

The Russian was going to kill her for sure. * * *

There weren't many things Yelena was sure of but she was sure Kate Bishop was going to be the death of her.

Not because she made her feel things she wasn't used to feeling or because she somehow always came up with the weirdest mission plans. No, she was going to be death of her because she got her sent back in time by a fucking witch coven.

What had her life turned into?

Maybe she would have been more on edge about the whole thing if she hadn't been forced to listen to not one, but two Kate's explain how she'd been sent back in time and found some sense of peace in herself.

As weird, and annoying, as their obvious feelings for each other were, it made her feel a bit better about the whole thing. At least she wouldn't be alone…although she was doubtful her other self would be as excited to spend time with herself as the archer had been.

She tried not to think about it too much, there was no use worrying about how she was going to explain this situation to her past self. All she could do was hope she wouldn't have to fight herself. There was no telling how long that could last.

The walk to her homebase was longer than she would have liked but eventually, she arrived and went through the long process of getting inside. Everyone thought she was a touch too paranoid but she'd rather be safe than sorry. Plus, Kate had offered to "buff up" her home security for free and she couldn't find it in herself to refuse.

That's how she ended up with a ridiculous amount of locks and a high-tech digital identity verification system. It was pretty cool in her eyes, even if it made getting pizza deliveries a pain in the ass.

She made her way through her front door, doing her best to not alert her alternate self of her presence. Sneaking up on her would surely be a bad idea but she also didn't want to burst in and risk getting attacked.

She found her past self in the kitchen and loudly coughed to get her attention.

The blonde instantly looked up, her eyes widening slightly once she saw her.

"Who are you?" Her past self asked, her hand already reaching for the knife tucked into her belt. "How did you get in?"

"I'm you, idiot," she replied, unable to stop her eyes from rolling. She understood her other self's apprehension, she would be reacting the same way had she not spent far too long in the company of one too many Kate's. "I have security access."

"That is impossible."

She suddenly understood what Kate meant when she said she often had "dry and obvious" responses. She still didn't understand why the brunette liked it so much, though. It was definitely annoying.

"If it was, I wouldn't be here right now," she replied just as drily.

Somehow, her response seemed to make sense to the Russian. A beat of silence passed before she nodded in what seemed to be approval. "Good point."

"That…that is it?" She asked, eyeing her suspiciously. "That is all it took for you to believe me?"

"Would you like me to fight you? Because honestly, I am still sore from my morning workout."

They locked eyes for a second before bursting into laughter. It was so weird but it felt right, somehow. She didn't have to guess or walk around eggshells, they both managed to understand each other in seconds without even using words.

Shit.

She was starting to think like Kate Bishop.

It seemed borderline impossible but maybe…Kate had a point. Maybe no one could make her feel as seen and understood as herself.

Maybe there was nothing wrong with wanting to explore a connection that deep.

"So, how did you get here, anyway?" Her past self asked once their giggles had died down. "I am assuming a mission went wrong?"

"You have no idea how wrong," she replied with an eyeroll. "I'm never trusting Kate Bishop's plans again."

"Why am I not surprised Kate is involved?" The amusement in her tone was difficult to hide. "Maybe we should go to her apartment and talk to her."

Her mind instantly filled with thoughts she didn't want to have. Thoughts filled of the activities both Kates were currently involved in…and the hickies that would be left behind. "I do not think she'd enjoy the…interruption."

"What are you talking about?"

"She is…enjoying some quality time with herself."

"What do you-" Past Yelena's face twisted into a mixture of surprise and confusion as the realization hit her. "You cannot be serious."

It was strange but she found herself growing somewhat defensive over the archers. She swore it wasn't because she approved of what they were doing or anything. It was simply because she saw how happy Kate looked with her other self. As much as it pained her to admit, she'd never seen her look like that before.

"I am," she replied, doing her best to keep her voice level. "Is that a problem?"

It was almost comical how quick she was to fluster. No one was ever able to make her blush and she felt a little proud of herself for achieving it so quickly.

"What Kate Bishop does in her free time is none of my business."

She couldn't stop herself from laughing. Her words would have been believable if they weren't the same person. Unfortunately for her past self, she knew the truth hidden beneath the surface.

The secrets she'd never tell another soul…except herself.

"So…you do not mind, then?" She asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. "It is not weird?"

They were the same person, she knew that, but she also knew what she would have said 24 hours ago. It wasn't like she was thinking of doing anything with her past self but…maybe she wanted to know she could.

"It's not the weirdest thing I've heard about Kate Bishop," the blonde said with a shrug. "I do not think it's for me, though."

Yelena should have let the conversation die there. It would have been easy to simply shut up and do something else. Talk about anything else. And yet she couldn't let it go.

She couldn't stop herself from asking the one question that had been on her mind since she'd walked in on both Kates making out.

"You are not even a little curious?" Her feet carried her across the kitchen floor without her even thinking until she was standing right in front of her past self.

She expected the blonde to shrug and step back from her. Maybe throw a warning her way and move on. But after all, they were the same person and the same things made them tick.

They shared the same, unspoken, fantasies and she knew exactly what to do. Where to look, where to linger with a soft touch.

She almost couldn't believe she was doing this but then again, she'd spent the past day more than a little frustrated. Haunted by ridiculously bad ideas featuring two pairs of identical blue eyes. Who better to give her some relief than herself?

"Curious about what?" Her alternate tried to appear unaffected but she knew herself better than that. She caught the clench in her jaw and her distracted eyes. "We are the same, your body is my body."

"That may be true…" She trailed off, her hand trailing down her arm. "But it will not feel the same."

The blonde rolled her eyes in response but she didn't push her off. She didn't seem to fully agree with her thoughts and yet she wasn't doing anything to stop her.

Yelena smelled a challenge and she wasn't about to back down without a fight.

Her hands found their way onto past Yelena's waist, slowly slipping under the hem of her muscle tank and tracing her stomach. The shiver her actions drew from her made her smirk and she couldn't help but feel a little proud of herself.

"This is wrong, you know that?"

The question made her chuckle. All it did was make her more emboldened, rather than embarrassed. Compared to all of the horrible things she'd ever done in her life, this felt like a walk in the park.

This was her choice.

And after years of feeling like she had no choice but to do what someone else wanted her to do, this moment bordered on therapeutic. Not to mention, ridiculously arousing.

"I don't know, you seem to be enjoying it a lot." She emphasized her point by gripping the hem of her shirt and pulling it off in one quick move.

"Fuck off."

She opened her mouth to tease her again but her other self didn't let her get very far. The blonde gripped her arms in a tight hold and moved her back until they made it to the living room.

A part of her wanted to fight back but she was a little too intrigued to stop her.

She allowed her to push her down onto the couch, taking a seat and subconsciously spreading her legs.

"Do not get any ideas," her past self said as she dropped to her knees in front of her. "I am just doing this to shut you up."

"If you say so." The amusement in her voice was more than clear.

It took the other blonde almost no time to reach out and start taking off her vest. Her fingers worked fast to undo the straps and push the garment off her shoulders.

With the vest out of the way, she was able to remove her tight compression shirt but not before very clearly admiring the way the fabric hugged her breasts. It momentarily reminded her of Kate which only served to remind her how desperate she was for relief.

"I think you are the one that's enjoying this a lot," past Yelena murmured, groping and squeezing her breasts through her top.

"Well, it was my idea," she replied as she arched her back into her touch.

The blonde hummed in response, her eyes darkening slightly despite how unaffected she claimed to be. "Naughty girl."

"Careful, I'm the one in charge here."

Her words were met with an eye roll and a pair of impatient hands that continued undressing her. Neither of them were complaining, though, so she allowed her shirt and bra to be removed in one quick move.

The cold air of the room caused her slightly hard nipples to fully harden and she could see her other self's restraint slipping in real time. That was all it took for her to move.

She reached for the blonde's hands and did her best to not smirk when she felt how tense she got as she pulled her hands toward her breasts. "What is the problem? Scared you'll like it?"

"You need to stop talking," she grumbled.

Despite her feigned annoyance, she fulfilled Yelena's unspoken order. They both shivered the second her hands wrapped around her breasts, her thumbs instantly rubbing over her nipples.

The moan that left her lips came out more like a growl, her nails digging into the other blonde's wrists. "And you need to start behaving."

Her words were met with a low chuckle. "Is that what you want? Did you run out of people to order around or something?"

She couldn't help but find her defiance attractive. She knew the reasons for it, the fire that burned underneath the surface, hot enough to burn anyone who dared get too close. But she wasn't just "anyone".

She pulled her past self closer until their faces were inches apart, her alternate's arms almost fully wrapped around her neck. Her words were a mere whisper as she spoke. "Maybe I just know you'll be far more obedient than anyone else."

If looks could kill, she'd be six feet under right now. "You are wrong."

"Then why are you on your knees for me?"

It was subtle but the fire in the blonde's eyes changed. The traces of defiance were still there and yet there was no denying the desire that was slowly starting to overtake the green in her eyes. She was sure she'd never seen a more captivating sight.

She waited for the snarky reply that was surely about to fly out of past Yelena's mouth but it never came. Instead, she was met with a smirk before she crashed her lips against hers.

The kiss felt wrong in all the best ways. It was messy and rough and far more passionate than anything she had shared with her recent flings. They had all been stupid moments of weakness meant to distract her from her unprofessional thoughts about a certain archer.

This was different, though.

It bordered on forbidden and yet that made it all the more exciting. Something the other blonde was feeling too given the way she was attempting to straddle her leg.

She wasn't quite ready to give her what she wanted yet. She had a much better idea.

"Lay down, detka." The roughness of her voice contrasted perfectly with the softness of her fingers as she caressed the side of the blonde's face. "And do not make me repeat myself."

Past Yelena huffed but she obeyed her perfectly just like she had expected. With her obedience came the rush of power that turned her on like nothing else.

It took her no time at all to discard the few articles of clothing left on her body, doing her best not to laugh at how desperate her alternate looked. The way her eyes trailed over every inch of revealed skin did little to soothe the throbbing between her legs.

Her intentions were more than clear once she sank down right above the other blonde's face. She briefly considering ordering her to keep her hands to herself but the way she instantly gripped onto her thighs to pull her down was far too arousing to tell her to stop.

A sharp gasp left her lips as she felt her mouth make contact with her soaked cunt. She hadn't even realized how wet she'd gotten from just a few touched. She'd be embarrassed if she wasn't so sure the other woman was on the same boat.

"There you go," she murmured as her hands landed on her other self's chest for stability. The action made her have to lean forward and she relished the strangled moan her movements earned her.

She ground her hips against the blonde's face, her eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of her desperate licks against her clit. "Come on, you can do better than that, can't you?"

She expected to hear a complaint but it didn't come. That didn't mean her other self didn't express her dislike for being ordered around in a different way, though. It's how she ended up with her lips fully wrapped around her sensitive clit and two fingers teasingly poking at her entrance.

The urge to ask for more was strong despite her desire to stay in control. It wasn't her fault considering her pleasure wasn't exactly in her hands. It was in the hands of her alternate self who was having too much fun being a brat and pushing her buttons.

Thankfully, it seemed like all she wanted was to hear her moans turn slightly whinier. Once she got what she wanted, she sunk her fingers into her pussy and doubled her efforts in an attempt to make her completely fall apart.

"Fucking hell-" She gasped, unable to stop her hips from chasing after her fingers every time she pulled out. "Don't fucking stop."

"Or what?" Her other self muttered.

A part of her wanted to tell her off for stopping to talk but the vibrations felt incredible.

"I'll tie you up and leave you there all day." It was, admittedly, a shitty threat but it wasn't like her brain was currently working at full capacity.

"You think I will not like that?" Her fingers sped up once more, curling just enough to bring her closer to the edge with each thrust.

"I don't think you want to find out, oh-"

The rest of her words died in her throat as she started to suck on her clit again, her tongue drawing rapid circles against the swollen bud.

"Just like that- Fuck!"

Her orgasm hit her like a truck. Her hips shook almost uncontrollably as she continued to grind against the other blonde, the feeling of her nails digging into her skin only adding to the pleasurable sensations currently overwhelming her body.

For someone so obsessed with being in control and having the upper hand at all times, this moment felt freeing rather than uncomfortable. It felt far better than anything she'd experienced before and a realization hit her as she rolled off of herself before she took advantage of her blissed out state.

"Motherfucker," she mumbled with a laugh.

"What?" Her other self asked, her eyes dancing with amusement.

"Kate Bishop was right."

They shared a look before erupting into a fit of giggles, both of them far too breathless to actually laugh.

"We are never telling her that."

"I agree," she replied as her smile turned into a smirk. "But for now, I think someone deserves a reward."

Even if they didn't tell her, she'd be able to notice the peculiar marks that covered their necks and the obvious blush on their cheeks whenever they made eye contact.

Who could blame them, though? After all, Kate had been the one to put the idea of spending quality time with herself in their head in the first place.

[under-cotton-and-calicos]

Fungi and Fae

NB Fae x AFAB Reader

AN: I wrote this last year while I was in the mood for fall. I'm a bit late for Valentine's but here's some fluff (and smut later in part two)!

Word count: 1.6k

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊Part Two (to be updated)𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

"You are looking devilishly beautiful today, m'eudail." 

"I appreciate it." You mutter, eyes scanning your surroundings for brown caps or yellow growths. After years of gathering, you have grown quite adept at it. 

“Won’t you spare me even one glance?”

The autumnal rain serves as a wonderful humectant for mushrooms- they come bursting forth from the ground and wood in vivid browns, yellows and striking black, well, the edible ones at least. A few of the local birds migrate for the season, leaving the woods serenely quiet. In their place, papery field maple seeds dance through the air like a set of wings carrying invisible bodies. Shades of red and orange permeate the woods, and even though you have looked out at the sea of colour countless times, the intensity of their hue and atmosphere always takes your breath away at the beginning of the season. It is your favourite time of the year, and it would always be much more enjoyable if it weren’t for your buzzing companion.

“I attended the most wonderful ball the other day, yet it was sorely lacking in good company. Would that you were there-”

“Your kind would have made me dance to death. Literally.” You quip, hiking your skirt up and stepping over a dead log. Conversation, if you could even call the slinging of words between the two of you, comes as naturally as breathing to you in the presence of Aetyn. Your grandmother had warned you about their kind since you were but a babe, cautioning you against their trickery. You were glad that she had trained you on how to handle them as it came into good use whenever you came out to forage.

Never accept gifts. Don’t stare at them for extended periods of time. If you encounter one, be gracious but maintain a boundary. You leave offerings of cream and pasties out for them, and wear a bell in the ribbon tying your hair.

After years of being around Aetyn, however, you have come to doubt the veracity of several claims. In the beginning they had attempted to ensnare you in all sorts of ways, fairy rings, gifts in the form of decadent chocolates and precious gems, wordplay. It all flowed over you like water. You presume that they gave up after the first two autumns.

Early on, you had accidentally gazed at them. It was hard not to- they have fine features so different from those of humans. It was as if fae were sculpted from marble, perfect and polished. Their smooth skin, hooked and noble nose as well as their androgynous beauty caught your gaze like a fish to bait. Nothing happened to you though, they just stared at you quizzically and asked if they had something on their face. Nonetheless, you still remain slightly guarded around Aetyn.

“Aetyn, would you ever consider chasing after a more naive, vulnerable maiden?” He’s quiet for a few seconds. You can almost hear the little cogs turning in his head.

“...but they don’t have your sharp tongue, or your bewitching-”

With a gasp, you clamber over to a massive queen bolete, brushing leaves and dirt from its cap before plucking it, its stem breaking from the earth with a satisfying crunch. You place it into your basket among a handful of porcinis, morels and chanterelles. Before you can stand and continue, you notice Aetyn laying belly-down on the grass with their head in their hands, long pink hair ostentatiously trailing down their shoulder.

“You have a look in your eyes when you find a good one. You smile so wide-” they have a sparkle in their eyes, you think you see their legs kicking in the air

“You’re so pretty.”

For some reason, the compliment feels oddly genuine, different from the other pet names that he piles onto you. Sensing the heat rising up your neck you look away, fussing with the mushrooms in your basket and wandering off to the clearing ahead. You’ve gotten used to Aetyn’s careless flirtation- they had used it as a tactic to trick you so you never take it to heart. Something about the look in their eyes strikes a chord within you this time, though. A jumble of strange, foreign emotions stir in your chest, so preoccupied are you with your thoughts that you make a near fatal mistake.

“Be careful!” 

Suddenly, an arm wraps around your midriff and tugs you backward. You’re leaned forward, torso tipped precariously over a circle of mushrooms. Gingerly, Aetyn gathers you into their arms, pulling you upright and a few steps away from the fairy ring.

“It wouldn’t do for you to fall into the snare of another fae now would it?” In the circle of their embrace, you are acutely aware of their body against yours even through your shirt and your coat. Your eyes are drawn to their lashes- pink just like their hair, so fair that you had never noticed just how long they were, fanning across their rosy cheeks. Aetyn’s gaze trails down the features of your face and lands on your mouth, hands sliding down your shoulders to your wrists. The feeling of his skin on yours is surprisingly humanlike, soft and comforting, but what ever made you think it would be otherwise? The urge to say something…or to do something-

A light ring and plink snaps you out of your reverie. Tearing your eyes away from them, you twist around to see your ribbon and bell on the ground. Aetyn steps away from you, the usual ease and gracefulness gone from their lithe body. They bend over, picking the delicate ribbon up. Your fringe has come loose, the two neat braids threaded to the back of your head by your grandmother undone.

“May I?” Aetyn pushes back the hair that obscures your vision. You nod, taking a seat on a cushion of brown leaves.

Their fingers carting through your hair are tender, deft as they expertly do up the braids and secure them once more. It feels…good. The warmth of their fingers, which you have watched pointing and gesturing many a time, seeps into your scalp. For once, the two of you are silent and you realise that you are wholly unaccustomed to the quiet whenever Aetyn is around. You’ve just grown used to their chatter like the tweeting of a little bird hovering over your shoulder. 

“It is done.” 

You are unable to see it, so you run a hand over the back of your head and feel the braids just as they were when you left home. They really are surprisingly good at it. Your tongue slips loose, from the intimacy in that moment or the fluttering in your chest, you do not know.

“Thank y-” You slap a hand over your mouth, unable to stop the panic from bubbling and frothing over. You look at Aetyn warily but regret it in the exact same moment, because you can see your distrust reflected in their eyes. The wide grin plastered onto their face falls and they look away from you. Whatever little shreds of trust that they’d hoped to have built up with you had blown away in the wind, they must think. 

It’s the first time that you’ve seen them look hurt and the sight claws at your heart. A few moments of unbearable quiet pass before you dust off your skirt and pick up your basket.

“I-I think that’s all I need for today.”

As the both of you walk through the lush woods, your mind is racing. With just one move, you’ve upended any semblance of kinship you shared with Aetyn. What were you going to do? Do you even want to do anything about it?

Just as you near the bend leading to your home, you come to the panicked conclusion that it would be awful to end the day this way. Aetyn has had every opportunity to capture you with trickery today, yet spurned it each time. Considering the seasons of your…relationship, you feel like you have shunned them. Summoning courage, you take a deep breath before spinning around so abruptly that Aetyn jumps.

“Today…was nice.” you bumble, acutely aware of how awkwardly your mouth forms the syllables. Your free hand twists the fabric of your shirt hopelessly.

“It was nothing. I am honoured to have your company.” They respond politely with a smile, eyes downcast. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish for a few seconds before

“Th…Th-thank you!” As soon as the two words leave your mouth, you squeeze your eyes shut.

This is it. I’m sorry for being such a foolish girl, grandmama.

What feels like an eternity passes and yet, you haven’t somehow been turned into a beetle, or been bound to servitude to a diabolical fae for the rest of your meagre mortal life, or anything really. It was quite anticlimactic. 

Instead, you feel a rush of warmth in the air and the bristle of tree branches bustling against their neighbours and the sweet call of a bird somewhere. And you hear laughter- Aetyn’s laughter, bright and rich which makes your chest brim with weight and ache. 

Your eyes still closed, a hand tugs gently against the nape of your neck and a pair of feather-soft lips plant a kiss on your brow.

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” He cradles your face in his hands. You feel compelled to lean into them but you remain rooted in place.

“Thank you.”

You place your basket on the kitchen counter, moving to don your apron and get started on dinner when your grandmother shambles into the room with her cane in hand.

“That’s a pretty flower in your hair,” she squints through the glasses perched on her nose, “wherever did you find it at this time of year?”

A hand flies to the back of your head, fingers tangling with little stems and soft, small flowers tucked into your braids. Your heart beats like the wings of a hummingbird.

“Oh my.”

Your grandmother peers at you with mirth.

“You have the look of someone in love, dear.”

[sunfiltersthroughwillowleaves]

had a tgcf and svsss crossover idea

ok so xie lian and hua cheng find this book (or whatever a book is in that universe) by an author named "airplane". wtf is an airplane anyways? so they start reading and its about a world a gajillion years in the future where there's paper that's made out of metal and it can change its image on will? and metal birds that carry people like swords except they're called airplanes and they're designed for the usage of many people at once??? why would the author name himself after that? chunks of metal with wheels that don't need horses???

"why dont they use cultivation" you ask, because there is none! so weird, right? anyways, they keep reading and there's so much stuff they call technology that's basically just magic. it's about an overpressured author who eats food that only needs water to be edible and sends his writing over an invisible spiderweb that covers the entire world. tbh, the author did a really bad job explaining all the "tech". overall a really stupid idea for a novel. xie lian honestly sorta likes it, but it's just wierd. the most odd part? these things keep coming out regularly. they're ridiculously long, and unlike other works from the same author, there's no sex scenes.

xie lian kinda likes it, and reads it every now and then cuddled up with hua cheng. hua cheng loves being next to xie lian, who giggles occasionally while reading, but hates the novel. somehow, shi qingxuan finds it, and shows it to ming yi, (shush leave me with my beefleaf) ming yi claims he doesn't like it but reads shi qingxuan's copy of that day's update every night. knows literally every detail, understands teh worldbuilding the best of anyone. feng xin and mu qing don't bother to read it, but they know a little about it.

one day, the next update is about someone who does something called a comment on his work. apparently, they do it a lot. and the character’s name is cucumber. who would name a character cucumber!? this author is weird. anyways the cucumber does a comment about a bunch of mean stuff critiquing the work and stuff. there are more than 3 pages of just mean commentings. the next page is about his metal paper. apparentlu, the metal paper can’t touch water, or else it poisons the water??? this makes no sense. not even ming yi can explain how it works. and then the main character touches the poison water? what a dumb character, remarks hua cheng.

main character wakes up in a cultivation world. apparentlhy main character was writing a story about this world? how dumb. hualien and beefleaf are crossing a road while reading this when a reckless cart driver is about to crash into them. hua cheng, obviously, obliterated the cart and its driver. problem solved! 

later that evening, when the four fall asleep, they don’t awaken (in those bodies, anyways). fengqing finds them, starts yelling their heads off, eventually brings their comatose bodies to ling wen, who shrugs and puts them in a drawer. 

meanwhile, hualien and beefleaf are reeling. they didn't get transferred into different bodies, but they are at a hospital. someone who looks vaguely like ling wen tells them that they were found half-dead under the seats of a funeral of some guy named shen jiu. weird. the nurse tries to charge them but, upon finding the only currency they have is merits, groans and lets them leave.  hua cheng rolls dice. nothing happens. 

xie lian asks where hua cheng’s butterflies are. hua cheng shrugs, but seems visibly on-edge. none of them are able to do cultivation when they try. people are looking at them weird. who the hell does cosplay in the middle of the street? some guy compliments xie lian and hua cheng on their tgcf cosplay. none of the four understand any of those words. someone asks to take a picture of them. take a picture? she pulls out a chunk of metal, holds it in front of their faces, presses next to them. oh, is it a mirror? but she clicks a white circle at the right of the rectangilar mirror, and it flashes bright white. hua cheng begins threatening her for daring to harm xie lian’s eyes, but xie lian apologetically gets him to back off.

the woman apologises and asks if they’re new to the area. shi qingxuan says yes, and she offers the four a place to stay. ming yi holds up his shovel, arguing that he could just dig a hole in the ground and sleep there. he has to be reminded that cultivation doesn’t work here.

back in the danmei world, airplane is no longer making money from his latest series, “an author without cultivation”! there were a few people buying it, but not anymore. they also tended to overpay wildly. airplane somehow pieces it together; (idk) ohhh they transferred to the human world. he convinces the system to let him and cucumber return to their world, but lbh protests. “where are you going shizun shizun dont leave me let me come with you shizun shizun come onnnnn shizunnnnnn” eventually they let him come too. mobei jun is ok with it as long as shang qinghua returns eventually. they transfer back to the human world, where cucumber finds himself in a coffin, at his own funeral. everyone is shocked when shen yuan sits up in his original body. people scream and shout and everyone is very happy, but cucumber barely remembers any of them. it’s been, like, twenty years. he can hardly remember his parents’ names. he smiles, laughs a little, rpetrends to know everyone, and then lbh arrives. through the window. pulls out an enormous sword. people then start screaming, because omg shen yuan’s enormous murder boyfriend is here. his parents scold him a little “why didn't you tell us you got a murder boyfriend” before getting yeeted into a wall. mmkay that’s happening now. luo bignhe and shen qingqiu spend their first day in the modern world in jail.

shang qinghua pays for their bail. apparently, they all arrived back to the modern world a day after sqq’s death, and a day before sqh’s. time travel? they don’t even know at this point. they manage to track down the other four by following a police report on a man in a red tunic and butterfly jewelry threatening a poor tgcf fan, witnesses report. (the woman wasnt even the one who ratted them out, it was the ugy who complimented them on their cosplays haha.) sqq and sqh share a look. that sounds like hua cheng, from tian guan ci fu! isn’t that a really popular danmei? lbh is just sitting next to them like a lost puppy, following them around, reminding shizun that he can tear anyone who dares question his authority to pieces. anyways they find the four. their conversation kinda goes like this.

sqq: hey are you xie lian?

hua cheng: who are you (the four are very concerned as they have never seen metal birds that make loud noises before)

lbh: how dare you threaten my husband

sqq and xie lian: binghe/san lang, calm down

sqq and xie lian make uncomfortable eye contact. woah. that guy also has an overprotective but lovable husband. neat. homosexuality.

xie lian:  yeah im xie lian, this is san lang, ming yi, and shi qingxuan

sqh: *looks at the other, nods* mmkay and are you familiar with the undiscovered gem of a series called “an author without cultivation”?

hua cheng and ming yi roll their eyes, the other two nod

sqx: yeah, what about it?

sqh: yeah, i’m the author! *waits for applause that never comes*

ming yi: so you know why we’re here?

sqq: well did you read it and hate it or somehting?

*lbh is still glaring at hua cheng. hua cheng is still glaring at lbh*

hua cheng: it was very easy to hate

sqh: *sqq laughs* shut up cucumber

ming yi: *snaps to attention* that was the name of one of your characters! peerless cucumber.

sqq: *laughing, elbows sqh* guess someone doesn’t hate it so much after all

*ming yi smacks him on the head with a shovel. lbh smacks ming yi on the head with his fist. they both pass out.*

sqx, catching ming yi: sorry about him, he can be a bit… (doesn’t finish)

sqh: yeah, no problem. my husband’s the same.

hua cheng: what?

sqh: *completely ignores him and moves on* okay so here’s what’s happening; i come from this world. i teleported to your world to do things accidentally after i died. then i stayed in your world and got a husband and started writing again and stuff.

xie lian: what things? and also you havent told us what you mena by we’re all gay. also why are giant metal birds your namesake?

sqh, swallowing: this is gonna take a while

they explain to the tgcf crew and stuff, and they end up grabbing an apartment. turns out, none of them know how to transfer htemselves back. also, they all appear to be human now. they appear the same, they’re all just human. sqh gets them a flat, and they all sleep on the floor.

ok i might update this later but who knows haha

[tomorrowsgardennc]

market update // september 28th 2024

before market 👉 after market

another slow day. this time was because a lot of regular customers did come by to say hi, but that they were out of power after 2r hours from the hurricane so they were honest and said they just were there to get out of the house and not buying. when 3 different customers say that... then you know that's probably multiplied by at least 3. a lot of window shoppers overall at the market, not just me. about half the farmers didn't show up either because of storm damage. me myself and my hubs kitties and house are completely fine, but it was significantly worse south and west of us. and guess where most of the farmers are located 🫠

if there is ever any severe damage of any natural causes, they need your support then more than ever. they always need your support... but only the cash crop farmers are eligible for compensation loss from the USDA. the farmers at your local market are not eligible. support them.

look at me, right at the very end. all my neighbors still setting up. the main market is right around the corner to the right. this is considered the back entrance so there is still traffic, but nowhere near as much as the main entrance.

my sun tarp that kept attacking me when it was windy the other week didn't make it through the storm, so i spent about half the market taking refuge in the shade. i hung out with another plant vendor for a bit. i was telling her about my perennial flower garden, and i did already get spanish lavender from her. going to get more next time she's at market. she said spanish lavender is the easiest to grow - especially in these parts - but the flower heads don't look like the stereotypical lavender flower so a lot of people don't want it. i don't care, i want the bees to care! but she's wonderful, sells only herb transplants. she recommended a few more flower perennials for me... i forgot ehat they were but she said she got them so that's why i didn't bother remembering because i said SOLD and i'll get them from her later 😅 i'll tell y'all what they are when i get them.

my sun tarp didn't make it, but my seed banner only got slightly frayed! easily fixable, fix it later.

question of the day!! this applies to everyone, but this farmers market offers a special deal. if you have SNAPs, or food stamps...

seeds are covered by SNAPs!!

now, home depot or other large hardware stores won't accept SNAP cards because they don't sell food as their main source of income (well, customers aren't their main source of income but that's another post for another day). Those stores won't invest in accepting SNAPs to a "small" customer base. BUT!! Walmart, Target... other stores where they have groceries and a few seeds in the spring will accept SNAPs for vegetable and herb seeds. if it turns into something edible, it is covered by SNAPs:

✨️ the more you know ✨️ a couple of customers were surprised and got a lot of seeds after they learned that. me, personally, my goal is to eventually accept SNAPs on my website for selling seeds. it costs a lot of money to do so....... but it is still a high priority. for now, I can accept farmers' market tokens for the seeds.

close up of seeds. seeds. seed seed seed seeds. appreciate the seeds.

kid wave back count: 1 out of 1. not too many kids today, surprisingly, but the one i waved at waved back. 100% wave back rate, let's gooooo.

[the-laridian]

Fallout Overencumbered update this week: the Salisbury Steak pre-war meal! Still edible after all these years!

(Honestly? I just ignore the impossibility of the food still being edible 25-200+ years later. This is a game with magic healing, impossible monsters and comic-book-level mutations, why quibble over the food)

Anyway, once again, when the backstitching happens (= lineart, for the non-stitchers) it'll really pop.

reply/reblog with xs-tag to be added to tag list

@rosespacesingout @the-lastcall @pvttwinkletoes @ajdkn @k-peasants @30-th-century-man @b1adelight @ss-bullseye @weewooitssmeb @darkfire1177 @funkylittlepenguin @molliehaswords @valentineenjoyer @typosandtea-reblogs @bleumanouche @sassenashsworld

[nburkhardt]

Anastasia AU. Bc I’m watching the movie right now :D

But Steve isn’t Anastasia. It’s Eddie.

Steve’s Dimitri.

The Munsons are cursed from Vecna.

A young Steve saves/helps the young prince and his uncle. But all get separated. The young prince is knocked out and taken in by an orphanage.

Years later, Eddie is finally kicked out and makes his way to figure out who he is. His only clues are the guitar pick locket and a promise to be in Paris.

Steve is determined to escape, resorting to cons. After hearing rumors of the youngest Munson still alive. He plans to hire someone who could pass.

After picking up a dog, Eddie tries for a ticket for Paris but can’t… after hearing about Steve, goes looking for him.

The auditions drags and no one is even close to being the missing prince. Steve gives up and makes new plans.

At the same time, Eddie follows by his dog into the building and eventually finds his way around until Steve finds him. Steve convinces Eddie that he could be the missing prince.

I’m gonna stop now before I just write out the whole movie out lol. Plus my edible is reallllly hitting now ANYWAY, I think this would be fun :)

UPDATE: @penny00dreadful wrote a fic based off this!!! here it is on here OR on ao3, here’s that link!

Especially because normally Steve is the prince. But I think Eddie would work toooo. Don’t ask me who is the others. I can’t figure it out :(

Idk if this counts for a fic? But I’ll still my Permanent tag everyone anyway 🩷

@spectrum-spectre @itsfreakingbats @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @gregre369 @zerokrox-blog @bookworm0690 @flustratedcas @carlprocastinator1000 @marvelmwah @solliesolesito

[cityof2morrow]

WIP: Untitled OFB Sales Kit1

Published: 7-21-2023 | Updated: 9-22-2023 100+ posters, tags, packages, and signs to organize sale items on your commercial lots. These objects were designed for simmers who play with lots of useable/sellable items, as well as multiple food, farming, and crafting mods.

You’ll be able to separate edibles, harvestables, ingredients, etc. from deco stuff (more on the process later). Labels will be color-coded in Simlish and English to make sorting objects by function easier (i.e. cook, drink, eat, grow, garden, harvest, make, craft, stock, use, view). The set will include multiple currency labels from the simsverse – simoleons, magicoin, neosimoleons, etc.

Of course, you can simply use them to gussy up your business too! This project will likely be published as multiple sets.

CREDITS Thanks: Sim Crafters, ChocolateCitySim. Sources: EA/Maxis, Fonts (Gazifu, 2013; Ajaysims), Sims 3 (EA, 2009; 2012), Sims 4 (EA, 2014; 2020), Sims Mobile (EA, 2018), Supermarket Aisle Signs (Rockethorse, 2014), Synapticsims, Vector_Corp.

[vriskaserketdaily]

Announcement; CW for graphic descriptions of medical emergencies & discussions of death/mortality

so, yesterday i briefly mentioned that i had been hospitalized. i unknowingly consumed edibles, became anxious and hyperactive, had a full-blown panic attack, and believing myself to be in the mother of all caffeine overdoses (2 cups of black tea) or having a heart attack or both, called emergency services, and was hospitalized with severe tachycardia.

i genuinely thought i was dying, sitting outside in my pajamas with my back to the mailbox post waiting for the EMTs to arrive. i still thought i was dying two hours later, struggling to breathe in the hospital room with my parents beside me.

i thought about a lot of things in the time between calling the emergency number and being lifted into the ambulance. i didn't want this blog to be my only legacy when i have so much more to do and be and make. i have other hobbies---knitting, crochet, playing guitar & composing music, and especially writing. i haven't drawn or written about my ocs in years, even during the recent hiatus, and i would like to change that.

to that end, i will not be drawing vriskas on a daily basis or consistently updating the fan art queue for the forseeable future. i will still draw vriska, especially if there are requests in the inbox, but i won't be going out of my way to squeeze out fan art when i'm ill, busy in other areas of my life, or generally not feeling it.

i will be keeping this blog up. i will not be changing the url because i fought too hard for a hypen-free daily vriska url and i'm not giving it up that easily. perhaps, after a year or two, i may even resume daily vriskas and normal blog operations.

COMMON QUESTIONS:

are you like, okay? i think i'm fine, physically? i was discharged after about four hours in the hospital and was able to move and eat and stuff today. i still feel some soreness/tightness in the chest, but i think that's to be expected given the circumstances.

can we still send requests? YES please omg. the interactions i have had through requests have been so positive and rewarding that it'd be difficult for me to fully give this blog up. even something as simple as "draw vriska" will function as a request. one thing that's been going through my head a lot lately is the thought that i could die and no one here would notice or care, so having tangible assurance that there is at least one person in the world who wants to see my vriska art would be very meaningful in that regard. i may not respond immediately, but i will respond to all requests that conform to the blog rules and mission (no nsfw, no pedophilic/incestuous ships, must involve vriska in some way)

will you consider opening mod applications? no, both because i don't think there would be too many takers for the position and because i know from experience that the fastest way to kill a daily blog is to load it up with a bunch of mods. (i am not the original owner of this blog and have moderated a few other multi-mod blogs before---i am currently the sole mod of the two i stuck with, this being one of them). i'd rather keep this blog half-active with just me than have it be completely inactive with me and 3-6 other people. again, there's a chance that after a year or so of taking things slow, i may come back to it.

can we tag you in art/fics/vriska posts? yes, actually, that would be very helpful. i don't expect anyone to do this, but again, i will no longer be actively perusing the character tag. feel free to @ me in vriska-related posts you think could use a little love.

if i have a daily vriska blog, will you promote me? sure! genuinely, i wish you luck---i've seen a couple of y'all come and go, and it really takes a lot to keep a blog like this running for more than three months. if you can do that you will be certified spiders for real.

where else can we find you? my main blog is @beangods, where i reblog posts that are not about vriska. you can send art requests there, too, but they cannot be related to vriska. that's what this blog is for. i also moderate @theextendedzodiacas, which is mostly fantroll-oriented. i'm on discord, too, but you won't find me on any other social media site.

is the vriskord still up? yes, it is, and you can join it, though the server is not very active. i don't plan on taking the server down or anything like that.

eighth question eighth answer 8ottom text

please feel free to reach out to me, and i'll be happy to answer any questions that i can. thank you for your understanding, and i'll see you . . . in probably a few days when i draw the 1 request currently sitting in the inbox.

thanks for reading all this.

-mod 8

[irradiatedsnakes]

i need to know more about pennybun i have fallen deeply in love

PENNY MY BEST FRIEND PENNY!!!!

(by @/skypiea)

penny is my first tav and i love her. she's a white dragonborn circle of the spores druid. i finished her first playthrough a couple weeks back, and i've started on a second playthrough with her! slightly edited, and now that i understand more about the game and the story i'm refining her character and story. i missed a lot of stuff on that first playthrough!

pennybun's name comes from the mushroom, by the way. i'd decided on that before i knew that there was a mushroom-themed druid circle in this game, i was GOING to choose moon, but, like. it's perfect. penny buns aka porcini aka king bolete aka Boletus edulis are an edible mushroom that symbioses with the roots of pine trees. they're part of my research and they're quite adorable

she's from a circle of druids located in the shelterwood- a dense forest near baldur's gate. she grew up in the city proper- or at least, on the edges of it- before moving out to the woods to pursue life as a druid.

she's solidly good-aligned- as my first playthrough, her story is kind of the best-case-scenario for everything, savescumming the hell out of some fights (good god the last light fight with marcus). everybody gets their good ending, everybody gets saved, that kind of deal.

she had a generally good relationship with everyone in the party, but gale, wyll, and karlach are her best mates for sure. i missed out on romancing karlach the first go around, but we're doing it on penny's second save file. it's happening.

she's also quite close with shadowheart, especially after the events of act ii. her relationship with lae'zel is more tense.. but i'm still working on figuring out that exact trajectory- missing a lot of lae'zel's storyline was one of the biggest mistakes i made in the first go-around. she and astarion never get close, but there's not any malice there, either.

she's good friends with jaheira, the two get along like a house on fire, and she looks up to jaheira a lot. she didn't have a lot of time to get to know minsc and boo, but they were plenty friendly in the short time they crossed paths. halsin, i need to work on, i also kind of fucked up his stuff first go-around by neglecting to fix the shadowlands. to be updated when i reach act ii in Penny The Sequel.

overall, penny's a big ol goody-two-shoes. she wants to help as many people as she possibly can, and feels a massive weight on her shoulders because of it, having been thrust into this leadership role by apparent pure chance.

while i'm still working it out, the central theme of pennybun's story is trust, and who she puts it in. an early decision i made before knowing anything about the story was that penny trusts the Mysterious Dream Guardian completely and totally, which made for some EXTREMELY fun character moments later on- utilizing the tadpoles (her and gale both), becoming partial illithid, and eventually in act 3 losing her trust in and culminating with her turning on the emperor, plus her own ceremorphosis to wield the netherstones against the netherbrain.

gear-wise, she uses the default druid armor for most of the game, switching to the armor of the sporekeeper in act 3. she assembles the mourning frost in the underdark in act 1 and it remains her favored weapon for the rest of the game. she also wears the key of the ancients, and just before the start of the finale gains the nymph cloak.

other assorted Penny Facts:

she keeps a detailed log of every camp dinner the group has. good food is very important

she has a soft spot for parasites. part of why she was receptive to the idea of utilizing the tadpoles, and also part of why she lets astarion take a bite from time to time.

she got her eye poked out by volo

she has a -1 int modifier

she's a lot keener on necromancy than you might expect a druid to be. she views necromancy and the undead (for the most part) as a natural part of the cycle of life- after all, everything will eventually return to the dirt to be eaten by the fungi and the other decomposers, no matter how prolonged it is.

it is imperative that all her friends (karlach excluded for reason of cool hair) wear fun hats. ive posted about The Hat Tax before but everyone in the party gets a funny hat. it's so important.

she's my best friend and i love her