#with no way to communicate with anyone she knows

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

Some charges my aunties and uncles carried well into the 90s without pardon or exonneration of any kind:

Substance possession, esp weed, ecstasy, cocaine/crack, meth, etc

Cross-dressing (aka wearing more than the allowed number of "opposite sex clothing items, including undergarments that were not visible)

Solicitacion/suspicion of prostitution (the latter is the charge a trans auntie got for carrying condoms on her to a partner's house, the former charge was both accurate and forced on partners across multiple people in my life)

Vagrancy (got outed during a cruising bust and was evicted/blacklisted from all affordable rentals)

Sexual assault/attempted murder (an HIV + trans adult getting trans panicked)

Public indecency (cruising)

Sexual misconduct in the presence of a minor (had sex in their home while a child was present in the household but not in the room)

This is a non-exhaustive list. Many people I loved who lived queerly through the 1950s-1990s had multiple charges in their past. Few had none.

The goal is to criminalize every path to existence we have, and there is a reason that approach is scary and effective.

It also is absolutely not the all powerful steamrolling force people (on borh sides of the conflict) pretend it is.

I grew up in a thriving community of dykes, faggots, queers, drag queens/kings, intersex folks, and trans people. There were enough of us, even in 1998, to fill a 300 person hall for an AIDS memorial during pesach one year, just in the valley. We lived, we loved, we raised children and families, and we waged a background war for our fucking lives.

It is happening again and for many that will be terrifying. I will not lie to you and tell you not to be afraid or that we will suffer no losses. That 300person hall also had near on 150 empty chairs for the dead that year. But I need people to understand that waging the war only feels scary and overwhelming A) in the beginning when you are not yet sure how to fight, and B) when you are alone, overwhelmed, and feeling helpless in the face of a pressing threat. The rest of the time, you will find that the process of learning effective solidarity and resistance is way faster than you think.

I called my mother on Valentine's day and we talked a bit about what it's like as two queer people across generations, to be back here where we were together in my early childhood, and how my mother feels seeing these conversation return after she got nearly a decade of peace and retirement from activism because she believed it was time to pass the torch. She reminded me of a story she used to tell me when I was little

Mom worked for IBM on some major contracts, and she would sometimes find herself out back with the other engineers for a smoke break. Once, a man started talking about the news updates on AIDS: it was spreading amongst not just IV drug users and queers, but amongst heterosexual middle class folks who had never used or swung or sold or anything. At first the conversation is empathetic to the sick, and mom lets her guard down.

"And then he says "but now it's infecting people who don't deserve it. They called it the Gay Plague back then, you know? And I don't know what happened, but the next thing I remember I'd thrown my cigarette in his face, backed him against a wall, and was snarling "NO ONE has EVER deserved this" and you know. He never said anything like that around me again. I don't know if he changed his mind, but from that moment on, he knew that we were in the room with him, and that was enough to get him to keep his fucking mouth shut. The reason they want us scared is because they want to be able to pretend we're never in the room with them. They want to be able to count on our silence, on our cowering and hiding in self preservation. And I don't blame anyone who gives that because we're surviving here, that's not my place to decide for you. But that was the day I learned that I will NEVER allow them to pretend I'm not in the room again."

Criminalization is a form of liminal expulsion of the undesireable from the shared social perception/narrative. If they can imprison us for our basic existence, they can remove us from the room or make it more likely we hide in the shadows. But this is what we mean when we say that they cannot kill us in any way that matters. Every loss, every death matters, but so does every life lived in silence and shadow. And I cannot emphasize enough how many more of the latter there have been in the world.

So if they want to kill us, we will fill their world with the utopia of the love we find in the dark. If they want to banish us we will live out loud until even they can't escape us. If they want to erase our history, I will personally scream it from every rooftop I have access to.

Liminality is a weapon against us, but it has also always been ours more than it is theirs. We make it, breathe it, and change it with our very being. Never forget that you are the culmination of generations of love, life, and survival. We have seen enough attempts at genocide in the world now to know that the meaning of our lives is not what they make it possible to do to us but what we create to stop them.

If they do start rounding queers up it won’t be with the gestapo, but the police, and the crime won’t be written down as being queer, but public indecency, the indecency being queer in public, but that’s the quiet part no one will say out loud.

[meazalykov]

goodbye means forever

ingrid engen x f!reader

summary: you cannot stop the inevitable

warnings: angst, reader kinda abandoned ingrid due to a mistake in communication.

things haven’t been the same at barcelona for a while now.  

it started with the coaching change. new tactics, new ideas, new rotations that never seemed to favor you or ingrid with it came to romeu.

no matter how hard you trained, how much you gave on the pitch, there was always something missing in the eyes of the staff. it was as if your star quality just dimmed, as if you were pushed into the background.

you were still starting most matches, but it was totally different than from the first season you came. you weren’t playing the full ninety like before, weren’t the first name on the teamsheet anymore.  

for ingrid, it was even worse.  

as a center back, she relied on consistency, on knowing who was beside her, what the system required from her. the constant shifting of defensive pairings, the coach’s indecision, the sudden preference for younger players…it was exhausting.

she never complained, not in front of the team, but you saw it at home.

the way she sank onto the couch after training, the way she lingered in the shower longer than usual, the frustration simmering just beneath her calm exterior.  

at the same time, the drama started coming inside of the dressing room.  

it started small. little things between teammates that shouldn’t have mattered but somehow became everything. disagreements in training, tension in the locker room. whispers about who should be playing more, who should be benched. 

it was nothing new. competition at a club like barcelona was always fierce, but this time it felt toxic. it wasn’t pushing anyone to be better; it was just wearing everyone down.

the loss against levante proved that, the first league loss since 2023. 

you and ingrid were supposed to be some of the best in the world. a left winger who could glide past defenders like they weren’t even there, a center back who could read the game better than anyone. 

now, it felt like you were both taking steps backward. as if you were back in lyon and her in wolfsburg.

so you talked.  

at home, away from the ears of your teammates, you and ingrid talked about transfers.  

"lyon is interested," ingrid told you one night, sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through her phone. 

"they want me in the winter window."  

"lyon?" you repeated, raising a brow. 

"ingrid, that’s back home."  

she shrugged, not looking up. 

"for you.. not me... so?"  

"so... are you really thinking about leaving?"  

ingrid sighed, setting her phone down. 

"i don’t know. i love barcelona, but this... this isn’t the same club we were promised.. if that is the right way to say it."  

she wasn’t wrong.  

"it’s just... lyon just has a different– a different level of competition i guess?," you murmured, unsure how to phrase it without sounding dismissive of your ex-club.  

she nodded. 

"y/n, it’s stability. it’s a chance for me to enjoy football again. isn’t that what we want?"  

you hesitated. 

"what do you think i should do?"  

ingrid looked at you then, really looked at you. 

"i don’t know, baby. i don’t think you’re happy here either."  

you weren’t. you knew that.  

going back to lyon? that wasn’t an option for you. ingrid has never played at lyon before, but you have. you don’t think that lyon is in your path again.

you already did that part of your career, and it never felt like home.  

chelsea had been on your mind for a while. keira had an offer from them too, and lucy was already there. it made sense. it felt like the right step for you.  

you didn’t say that. not yet.  

the winter window dragged on, full of rumors, speculation, constant questions. neither of you spoke about transfers at the club. 

you couldn’t. it was an unspoken rule…no distractions.  

at home, it became everything. it's the only thing that you and your girlfriend could talk about. 

"i think i’m taking it," ingrid told you one night, curling into your side on the couch.  

you tensed, fingers pausing where they were tracing lazy circles on her back. 

"taking what?"  

"the lyon deal. but... not yet. i want to finish the season here."  

you swallowed hard, not sure how to respond because it was already done for you. chelsea had sent the final paperwork. you had accepted.  

"ingrid..."  

she lifted her head slightly, sensing something in your tone. 

"what?"  

you took a deep breath. 

"i’m leaving."  

the scandi’s entire body stiffened.  

"what?"  

"i…i thought you were leaving in the winter, and i—"  

you protest. 

"when did you decide this?" she asked, sitting up fully now, looking at you with wide, betrayed eyes.  

"last week."  

she let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking her head. 

"last week? you’ve known for a week, and you didn’t tell me?"  

"i didn’t know how," you admitted. 

"i thought you were leaving too. i didn’t think we’d.."  

"i never said i was leaving in the winter, y/n."  

silence.  

she exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. 

"so... that’s it? you’re going to london?"  

you nodded, stomach twisting.  

"and you didn’t think we should talk about this? actually talk about it?"  

"we did talk about it."  

"not like this!"  

your chest ached. 

"i didn’t want to make you choose between me and barcelona."  

"but you made the choice for me, didn’t you?"  

you had no response to that.  

the last night before you left was quiet. too quiet.  

ingrid lay beside you, but there was a distance between you that felt impossible to close. you wanted to reach for her, to tell her that everything would be okay.  

you didn’t because you didn’t know if that was true.  

the morning came too fast.  

you stood at the door, bags packed, heart heavy. ingrid was in front of you, arms crossed, looking like she was trying so hard not to fall apart.  

"we’ll figure this out," you told her.  

she swallowed. 

"yeah."  

"i love you."  

she nodded, blinking rapidly. 

"i love you too."  

you kissed her. soft, lingering. desperate.  

then you walked away.  

london was different.  

chelsea felt strange at first, like you didn’t belong. the rivalry you had with them back in barcelona still lingered in your mind.  

keira was here and came along with you, and lucy had been here a season already. they welcomed you with open arms, helped you adjust.  

surprisingly, the team? they made it easy.  

there was no drama. no tension. no toxic environment.  

you could just... play.  

it wasn’t perfect, not yet. you still missed ingrid. 

you still hated the way the spanish media twisted your transfer into some betrayal, still saw the comments, the hate.  

ingrid is receiving hate for the lyon rumors too.. how dare she try and transfer to another club but demand a starting spot once the window has closed? according to the media.

for you, you hoped that you’ll be loved in london. you hope that ingrid can continue to be the best with barcelona until she can transfer clubs. 

however, for the first time in a long time, you felt like you could breathe.  

london is a breath of fresh air.

masterlist

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for lottie behind the cut; “a pocketful of Kons”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“We aren’t sure if Kal isn’t still gone,” Diana says, still watching Cas thoughtfully even as he sulks against Odie’s side. “No one in the League has managed to make any contact with the man in Metropolis wearing his face.” 

“Men,” a voice corrects, and Diana–pauses. Cassie jumps in surprise and whips around, and standing in the hall behind them is a Green Lantern. She doesn’t know his name, but he’s dark-skinned and broad-shouldered with buzzed-short hair, a close-cropped goatee, and a serious expression, and there’s a tall and slender Pocket with magenta-bright skin perched on his shoulder in a Green Lantern uniform of her own. 

And they’re both looking very intently at Cas. 

“What?” Cassie says stupidly. Gods, there are way too many Green Lanterns to keep track of, she swears. Isn’t there only supposed to be one a sector or something? She swore there was only supposed to be one a sector. 

“Men,” Green Lantern repeats matter-of-factly. “There’s two of them. The cyborg and the one in the visor. And that’s not including the third guy, who might be wearing one of the most advanced sets of mechanized armor I’ve ever seen on this planet or might be one of the most advanced androids I’ve ever seen on this planet. Which, you know, the fact we can’t tell either way definitely puts a lot of weight on the word ‘advanced’ in that sentence. And either way, he’s got the cape and the ‘S’ on just the same as the other two; his versions are just welded on.” 

“There’s–three?!” Cassie asks in bewilderment, staring at him in disbelief. That’s–what? How–? 

“We also had somebody call in about an apparent Pocket of Superman manifesting this morning,” Green Lantern adds, flicking his eyes back to Cas and raising a pointed eyebrow at him. “Who was, for the record, not you, Princess.” 

“Hm,” Diana says. Cas sits up on her shoulder, looking indignant again. 

“Wondy!” he says accusingly, then zips back to Cassie’s shoulder and wraps his arms around her neck, giving Green Lantern a dirty look as he does. Green Lantern’s Pocket lets out a quiet little titter of a laugh, half-covering her mouth with her fingertips as she does. Cas grumbles and clings harder to Cassie’s neck. 

Cassie . . . does not know how to feel about this. If there’s multiple people passing for Superman right now . . . does that mean Cas is one of them, then? Because in that case–she doesn’t even know who he is, in that case. He’s, like–a total stranger, not even someone Diana knows. He might even be–

No, he can’t be a supervillain. Not whoever Cas came from. 

. . . but why else would someone be pretending to be Superman? 

“No one in the community’s managed to make contact with a single one of the three, but the public’s sure gotten them all on video and online,” Green Lantern says. “They’ve all been very publicly visible and very publicly not around anyone in a superhero costume. Specifically, there’s been a very notable lack of Supergirl around any of them.” 

“Cas can’t be a fake,” Cassie says abruptly, tightening her hands together behind her back. That’s not how Pockets work; they don’t just look like whoever the person they came from might’ve disguised themselves, they look the way whoever the person they came from sees themselves. “He’d have his real face if he were, not Superman’s.” 

Cas makes a–noise. A weird noise. Cassie glances towards him reflexively, and he’s touching his face with both hands, looking–worried? Nervous? 

Upset, maybe. 

“Wondy?” he says, his very small voice even smaller than usual and his expression–distressed, now. Cassie feels her heart clench tightly in her chest and brings her own hands up to wrap around him; cup him protectively. 

“I know you’re not a fake,” she tells him. He makes a worried little noise and burrows in against her neck, half-clinging to her. 

“You do realize a Pocket might look like Superman without being Superman if one of these three actually believes he’s Superman,” Green Lantern says. “Which at least two of them are currently claiming to.” 

“. . . yes,” Diana agrees slowly, her expression considering. “But do any of them look like Castor?” 

“What?” Green Lantern says with a frown. 

“Wonder Girl’s Pocket,” Diana clarifies. “Do any of the alleged Supermen resemble him in any manner besides their shared face? He did not manifest with a visor or any sign of cybernetic parts. Certainly not any armor. Did he, Wonder Girl?” 

“No,” Cassie says, clutching Cas a little protectively and trying not to shoot Green Lantern a dirty look. Just–he thinks Cas is fake, and he’s trying to convince Diana he’s fake, so that’s not exactly easy not to do. “He didn’t. He showed up just like this.” 

“So you’re telling me we should be expecting Imposter Number Four?” Green Lantern asks, and Cassie bristles after all. 

“He’s not an imposter!” she snaps. “Or like, a bad guy or whatever you’re thinking! Cas isn’t like that!” 

“Someone deluded into thinking they’re Superman while carrying Superman’s powers could still be dangerous whether they’re a ‘bad guy’ or not,” Green Lantern says. “Supergirl’s already been a problem that way. It isn’t safe to assume benevolent intentions here.” 

Cassie would probably be a little more willing to listen to Green Lantern’s concerns if her mom hadn’t already been so awful to Cas, because–he’s not actually saying anything that isn’t true, and he’s not saying it any way but matter-of-fact. He’s just being careful, not actually making any accusations. 

But her mom was already that awful to Cas, so she’s really not in the mood to put up with anyone else saying things like that about her soulmate. 

[kirrryash]

While making this drawing (and also the sketches) I was thinking about this universe and I had two options for the backstory of this moment.

In the first one the reincarnation of Kikyo had happened way sooner and Kagome had become a dark miko, meeting Inuyasha she had immediately granted his wish to become a full demon and here they are, happily wreaking havoc in the area and being a menace to anyone entering their territory.

The other one, well something weird happened: I found THE FIC. Someone wrote the exact scenario I had in mind, different details and premise, yes, but the feeling is exactly what I had in mind and was trying to communicate: battered Kagome finds peace and reassurance in the arms of a monster less monstrous than the men in that period, someone naturally dangerous but not someone evil, and yes, this may twist her, make her look less human to other people but in the end she is still way more kind than most and this is what made her able to see the kindness in Inuyasha. I don't know the author and the fic came out in the days this image was posted, so I can't even say I read it and forgot about it, but it was such a pleasure to see this idea put into words, in such a beautiful prose, and I want to share it with you all! Warnings for really dark themes and sexual assault (not inukag, they are good babies!) I hope this breaks you and puts you back together like it did for me 🧡

Valuable - by anonymous

"You hear that Inuyasha? They say I should step away from you... For my safety! How cute."

[puttersmile]

HeartnSol community!

Heart & Sol Month Days 1, 10 & 26

Prompts are "First Meeting", "Sleep" and "Facing Fears".

Short Story Below!

I Can't Sleep

Bobby didn’t want to be here.

Glowshade Lodge was too isolated, too creaky, too empty. The walls groaned with every gust of wind, the floorboards sighed under the weight of footsteps that didn’t belong to her, and the lights flickered—even though there was no storm. It didn’t feel like a place people were supposed to live.

She would have much rather been at home. Instead, she was stuck here for the weekend, trapped with a bunch of kids she barely knew, all of them sent here as part of a “wilderness experience”—a program meant to teach independence, teamwork, and survival skills. The rangers running the trip had called it an adventure. Bobby called it a waste of time.

Most of the kids seemed to agree. Some tried to make the best of it, but Bobby could already tell no one wanted to be here. The lodge was old, the air always carried the scent of damp wood, and the only thing to do was hike, gather firewood, and listen to the rangers tell campfire stories that were probably meant to scare them.

She wasn’t impressed.

And she wasn’t in the mood to bond with anyone.

Including them.

Dogday and Catnap—brothers. One loud, one quiet. Opposites in nearly every way.

Dogday acted like he owned the place, chatting up everyone like he had lived here for years. He was full of easy grins and self-proclaimed “pro-tips” about how to handle the wild. Meanwhile, Catnap barely spoke. He just watched, his heavy-lidded gaze drifting over people like he wasn’t fully awake. Or maybe, Bobby thought, like he was seeing something the rest of them weren’t.

She wasn’t sure what to make of them yet. And she certainly hadn’t expected to end up hiding under the same bunk bed as them just hours after meeting them.

Bobby woke up to a sound.

A creak. Slow. Deliberate.

At first, she thought it was just the wind rattling the lodge, the way it had been doing since sundown. But as she lay there, she heard it again—closer this time.

Her ears twitched.

That wasn’t the wind.

Someone—something—was moving in the hallway.

Bobby’s breath caught in her throat. She stayed still, every instinct screaming at her not to move.

Across the room, Dogday shifted.

She hadn’t even realized he was awake.

He met her gaze, his floppy ears twitching, his whole body tensed. He had heard it too. And Bobby could tell, just by the way his jaw was set, that he was fighting the urge to growl.

Dogday had this low, buzzing growl that kicked in whenever he sensed danger—something quiet, but tense, like he was a frayed wire just waiting to snap. The first time Bobby heard it earlier that day, she had thought it sounded like a tiny electric toothbrush. She almost told him that. Decided against it.

But now, that sound was starting up in his throat.

And Bobby realized, with a sinking feeling, that he didn’t even know he was doing it.

The wind howled against the lodge.

The creaking in the hallway stopped.

Then, a whisper.

“Go back to sleep.”

Bobby’s breath hitched.

It wasn’t coming from the hallway.

It was coming from inside the room.

Her head snapped up just in time to see Catnap’s bed was empty.

She barely had time to process that before Dogday grabbed her wrist, yanking her off the bed without a sound and pulling her under the lower bunk with him.

Bobby landed face to face with Catnap, who was already curled up under there, tail flicking anxiously. Waiting.

He pressed a finger to his lips.

Stay quiet.

Bobby barely had time to nod before the door creaked open.

Something entered the room.

She couldn’t see it.

But she could hear it.

A slow, dragging sound—like something heavy being pulled across the wooden floor.

The air grew colder.

Bobby’s fingers dug into the blanket.

Dogday went rigid beside her. His growl started to rise again—

Then Catnap moved fast.

Before Bobby even knew what was happening, Catnap clamped a hand over Dogday’s mouth, pressing down firmly.

Dogday’s eyes went wide. He struggled for a second, that electric-buzz growl still vibrating in his throat, but Catnap didn’t let go.

He just shook his head once—sharp, firm.

Not now. Not here.

And then—

Sniff.

The creature breathed in, slow and heavy.

Bobby swallowed down a whimper, pressing both hands over her own mouth to stifle it.

It knew they were there.

But it didn’t know where.

The floorboards creaked as it bent down.

Bobby felt it before she saw it—the weight of something peering into the bunk.

Then—

A breath. Right next to her ear.

“Go back to sleep.”

Her heart stopped.

She clenched her eyes shut, willing herself not to move.

If they moved—if they so much as twitched—

It would. Find. Them.

The night stretched on.

Bobby swore, at one point, she could feel it waiting.

Testing them.

She lost track of time listening to its slow, dragging movements.

And then—

Click.

The faintest sound.

Like a door shutting.

And then—

Silence.

Morning light crept in through the cracks in the old wooden lodge.

None of them moved.

They just lay there, staring at the ceiling.

Bobby was the first to break.

“…That was real, right?” she whispered.

Dogday swallowed. “Yeah.”

Next to them, Catnap finally blinked.

“…It talked to me first,” he muttered, his voice groggy. “Tried to get me to run.”

Bobby shuddered. “But you didn’t.”

Catnap’s tail flicked. “Didn’t feel right.”

Dogday ran a hand over his face. “Yeah, well. We’re alive, so I’d say that was a good call.”

Bobby frowned. “We should tell someone.”

Dogday hesitated. Then—

“No one’ll believe us.”

She frowned. “You don’t know that!"

“You wanna explain how a big, creepy, sniffin’ monster got into a ranger’s lodge without breaking a single door?”

Bobby opened her mouth—then closed it.

He had a point.

“…So what do we do?” she muttered.

Dogday sighed.

“…Guess we just pretend we slept fine.”

Bobby exhaled.

She hated that answer.

But she hated the idea of being brushed off even more.

So, with a deep breath, she nodded. “Fine.”

Then, after a long pause—

“…Thanks.”

Dogday blinked. “For what?”

“…For not making me deal with that alone.”

Dogday snorted. “Yeah, well. If it had gotten you, I’d have to explain to the rangers why we suddenly had one less critter in this lodge. Sounds like a hassle.”

Bobby rolled her eyes. “You’re so compassionate.”

Dogday chuckled. “I try.”

Above them, Catnap stretched. He'd returned to his favorite top bunk, tail flicking lazily. Dogday peeped up at his brother and smiled. We should really be thanking my buddy Catnap! He was the real quick thinker last night."

Catnap grinned lopsidedly. "Just doing my brotherly duties. Next time, try not to sound like a broken toothbrush when there’s a monster in the room."

Dogday gasped, ears and tail spiking. "Sound like a what?!"

Bobby laughed loudly. Nearly doubled over. She couldn't help it.

Maybe she hadn’t been the only one scared tonight.

For the first time since she arrived, she felt safer. And happier.

End.

Author Note: Bobby isn't a reliable narrator. The lodge is old but it isn't a bad place to stay. Thought it could use some renovations.

Also a lot of kids love to play there. Hoppy especially.

[xoxoaugust]

look both ways (when you cross my mind)

pt 2. of See You Again

in which: After meeting again, Sae can't stop thinking about you. Wondering if you look both ways when you cross his mind.

an: guys i'm giggling

wc: 1.7k

That night, Sae stayed up for a bit staring at the messages you had exchanged. He couldn't stop thinking about you. You had changed, but your essence lingered like washed out cologne. You were still kind, but guarded; still humble, but confident. You seemed happy, at peace, without him in your life. That's what he thought, but he couldn't be more wrong. Sure, you were happy and at peace, but he would never know about the late nights, wistful dreams plaguing your mind like a disease spreading throughout the corners of your brain. He'd never know the guilt you felt after scolding him so mercilessly, and you'd never know that he'd forgiven you ages ago.

You were both just fools, fools whose biggest weakness would be communication, just longing for each other endlessly.

You stared at the ceiling of your half decorated apartment. By half decorated, you meant nearly empty. Aside from the necessary furniture and appliances, you had maybe a few pictures of friends and family on your walls. You glanced at the photo of you and Rin at his high school graduation , the one Sae wasn't there for.

Part of you resented Sae, the way he treated Rin after Spain was uncalled for. But part of you could never even attempt to hate him. Maybe you resented him to protect yourself, protecting your heart from the only person you'd ever give it to. Not wanting to be left like scraps, you shut off any and all communication.

The morning after, you woke up with a throbbing headache. Thinking too hard about the last couple days. You got up and got the day started with the little cafe just down the block. You walked with your shoulder bag full of your notebooks, your laptop, your pens and pencils, and headphones nestled comfortably on your head.

Walking in, you greet the little old lady who owned the cafe, and the girl around your age who worked there. You had befriended her after finding out she went to the same university as you. Her name was Rumi, she was a kind, and pretty girl with a longing to be a fashion designer.

"[Name]! It's nice to see you again! The usual?"

You stared at the menu, before looking back at her.

"Can I have my regular matcha, but can I have a smoothie bowl instead? You can pick the flavor, I trust you". You beamed.

She rung you up and handed you the matcha before running off the make your bowl.

As you sat down at your table, you thought about Sae. Would he come to see if you were here? Or would he just not bother?

"This is about that guy, right?" Rumi smiled playfully.

You looked up at her, meeting her eyes as she sat down in front of you.

"Yeah, he's cute, I could tell he was into you. He's not my type but you and him, my god a match made in heaven." She sighed charmingly.

"I don't like him, he's just and old neighbor of mine that happened to be here, no big deal." You said trying to cover the heat crawling up to your face.

Rumi looked at you like you had grown another head.

"Are you kidding me? [Name] , that boy is so in love with you. I've seen him around so many times, he always justs gets his drink and meal then sits at the corner table for like five minutes and then leaves. He doesn't talk to anyone, and he hasn't until you showed up."

You couldn't help the childish upturn of the corners of your mouth. You had spent so much of your childhood longing for Sae to reciprocate the puppy love feelings you had, but it never happened. Now, these feelings left a sickeningly bittersweet memory to relive in your mind.

You zoned out until the bell on the door rang. The person walked into the shop quietly, it was none other than Sae Itoshi.

Rumi looked at you smugly before getting up to take his order.

He ordered his regular unsweetened matcha and a fruit bowl. He walks over to where he usually sits, internally giving himself a high five because he was counting on you being there. Instead of sitting at the table next to it, he sat down right in front of you.

You looked up, baffled. You couldn’t tell if you were excited, or appalled at his audacity. Probably both if you’re being honest.

“Hi Sae, is there something you need or…?”

He simply took a sip of his drink before meeting your gaze and replying.

“I just wanted to sit here, if it’s bothering you I can move.” Said blankly, most likely in good faith but his tone wasn’t helping.

You smiled to yourself, same old Sae.

“You can sit here, just don’t be annoying.” You said, sarcastically.

You two sat in comfortable silence for maybe half an hour, before you broke the silence.

“How have you been? Haven’t heard from you in quite some time.”

He looked up, and you couldn’t help but think about how freaking cute he still is.

“We saw each other like yesterday, I’m the same as I was I guess.”

You sigh, he’s still painfully oblivious, and socially inept.

“You know that’s not what I meant, how has Spain treated you so far? Anything I should look out for?”

You asked even though you had already been here before, you just needed conversation starters.

He paused to think. He knew that your question was most likely hand in hand by how he acted towards you and Rin when he went back to Japan for the first time.

“Not really, it’s pretty nice here. It does make you pretty homesick though.”

Well that caught your attention.

“Did you get homesick after coming here?” You asked out of genuine curiosity.

“I did, it was bad for a while. I missed you and Rin, I missed my parents. I missed the food too, eventually it stopped.”

You felt a pit in your stomach, it must’ve been so hard to be in a whole different country by yourself at the age of 13. You felt your heart soften.

“You could’ve called me y’know, Rin and I would’ve dropped everything just to talk to you more often.”

“I did call”

“Yeah maybe twice!” You laughed.

God that laugh, he could never get enough of it. He missed your smile the most, of course he missed your company, but he could stare at that smile for hours and never get tired of it.

“We should stay in touch.” You proposed, hopefully might I add.

“We have each other’s numbers right?” He said monotonously.

“I mean like hang out, like we used to.” You said softly.

“Okay, where do you want to go?”

You looked at your watch. “Right now?”

Sae looked confused.

“Yeah, I don’t have practice tonight, we can go somewhere if you’d like.”

You thought about it, it had been maybe a year and a half since you’ve been to Spain. You managed to get a scholarship, but you never told Sae about it. Maybe the place has changed a lot since you left.

“You should give a tour, like what’s new here?”

He nodded before getting up to help you pack your things. Ever so the gentleman.

You grabbed your matcha before glancing back at Rumi, who was giggling and mouthing ‘I told you so’.

As you walked around the area Sae brought you to, you could help but feel nostalgic. I mean taking away the fact that Rin wasn’t here, you felt like the young girl would walk around with Sae all the time.

He would point out his favorite places in the small shopping center. His favorite bookstore, favorite restaurants, favorite clothing stores that he would go to maybe every 6 months. You were listening, partially. You kept looking at him, probably with heart eyes.

You finally settled near the park, until, you felt a drop of water hit your arm.

It was raining, and the downpour was picking up.

Sae grabbed your arm and pulled you to the nearest shade.

“My place is around here, if you’re okay with it we can head over there and wait until the rain slows down.”

You nodded and he grabbed your hand before dashing towards the building. You felt the heat creep up to your face before the two of you slowed down to enter the lobby.

He grabbed his keycard and scanned the elevator lock, walking inside with your hand still in his. When you got situated into the elevator, you let go of his hand, trying to warm yourself up by rubbing your arms.

He glanced over at you once before removing his jacket and offering it to you by holding it out in your direction.

"Sae I appreciate it but i'm okay, you don't need to give me your jacket." You smiled, still shivering.

"I want to, we're about to get there anyways, wear it until we get there so you don't feel cold."

You hesitantly took his jacket and placed it over your shoulders.

He kept glancing over to see you wearing his jacket, god he thought you looked adorable.

The elevator dinged and you walked out of the elevator, still wearing his jacket. He guided you to the massive door and opened it with his card. You couldn't believe your eyes, his penthouse was actually huge. It was so Sae, clean and tidy, everything was in it's place, though it felt lonely, there was a warm feeling about it. You took off his jacket and placed it on the coat hanger right next to the door before exploring the main area.

"Sae you cannot be serious right now. Who needs a bar in their house? Do you even drink?"

"Not really, there's coffee machines too if you want some."

You rolled your eyes so loudly.

The main room was beautiful, clean cream colored leather couches with red and maroon decorative pillows placed neatly in each corner, glass coffee tables and a fireplace. It was the typical millionaire side residence.

"Do you want something to drink? We have two hours to kill."

Your eyes bulged out of your head. TWO HOURS?!

"Uh i'll have anything, I don't mind."

He nodded before getting to work. You couldn't lie, he looked really good right now. His athletic long sleeve shirt pushed up to his forearms and his hair slightly damp.

As good as he looked, you did not know what to do, how were you going to stay here for two whole hours? You prayed there was a merciful god to strike you down this instant.

xoxo, august

an: sorry this feels so rushed, but I want to turn this into a series. I really like the idea of each Tyler lyric being a new chapter, so stay tuned !

[durgeapologist]

Omg your blog is such a relief. Every day I feel more and more like I want to distance myself from about 80% of the Solavellan community bc I am telling you it is ROUGH being into the egg and wanting to talk about him but being surrounded by people who think that everyone and their mother is out to get them. Meanwhile someone can come up with valid criticisms about how Lavellan's characterization was handled in VG and get swarmed with unsolicited opinions about solrook shippers and accusations of misogyny. I also see them running around in posts that are clearly marked as "Critical" And half the time when I CAN talk to them about Solas it's like they aren't even talking about the same character I am? They want him to be some helpless little abuse victim who isn't responsible for anything he does??? Why are we redeeming him if he did nothing wrong? What would be the point? We love him because he's fucked up and a manipulative bastard but also complex???? Did we play the same game girlies???

i have been staring at this ask since it came in trying to find a normal way to respond to you anon i will be so fr rn so i am so sorry it's taken a few hours

i’ll start with this:

“Why are we redeeming him if he did nothing wrong?”

full stop. this. so much. (i am in love with you anon) why is there a atonement/redemption ending if he did nothing wrong? (you’re literally so real) solas has done horrendous things. like genuinely abhorrent. (i crave to be your friend so bad anon) he is a genocidal, serial killing, manipulative lying cunt. to say the least. AND THAT IS WHY I LOVE HIM. he has such complex characteristics that make him so intriguing. he wants to be a good person. but he doesn’t really know how to be genuine. he is riddled with guilt and regret. he feels BAD about the things he has done. but he doesn’t want to face his mistakes. he knows he has done absolutely terrible things in the name of his people and their liberation, things most of them never asked him to do. some even asked him to NOT DO THOSE THINGS. did he listen? of course not! this is solas we are talking about. arrogant, prideful, calculating solas.

“They want him to be some helpless little abusive victim who isn’t responsible for anything he does.”

yes. yep. THIS SO BAD. (genuinely let me be your friend pls i am on my knees begging) the dynamic between solythal gets convoluted by most solasmancers because of three things: misogyny, jealousy, and ignorance. was there abuse? yeah. not denying that. was there only abuse? no. mythal was a victim of abuse herself. the way she learned to love, she passed down to solas. BOTH were victims of abuse who did terrible, no good, awful things. BOTH were also extremely powerful, omnipotent, and power-hungry individuals. mythal's hunger for power showcased differently than solas' and was amplified (IMO) by elgar'nan whispering in her ear. solas had felassan to keep him in check.

i am of the UPMOST certainty that had solas not taken down the evanuris the way he did and went to sleep after creating the veil, he would have become another tyrant ruling over the elven people. (THE MASKED EMPIRE ANYONE? HELLO? HELLOOOOO?) also anyone who says she was his MOTHER or SISTER?? god please drown me. put me in a tub and hold my head under water. that was his PARTNER AND HIS LOVER. i cannot with the takes that she raised his ass COME ON. i have sooooo much more to say about this dynamic and the themes of abuse AND how solasmancers twist it to make her this most evil, vile, horrible woman; but i would like to keep some of my followers tbh (anon i am frothing at the mouth if you want to discuss this further i beg you to dm me) so we shall move on.

"...valid criticisms about how Lavellan's characterization was handled in VG..."

yeah full stop i will never forgive them for making her one personality type. sorry, i just won't. my lavellan egg-mancer was a strong-willed and angry proud dalish woman who told solas off every chance she could! i am genuinely so happy people who wanted the dynamic we got in VG got that, because that is how their lavellan is/was, but what about the lavs who punched him? who told him to stop being an asshole about elves, and just farmed approval for the romance by asking questions? i chose to hunt his ass down BECAUSE I WANTED TO HUNT HIS ASS DOWN! my lavellan would not be so understanding or forgiving, she just wouldn't, so it feels like my girl's personality was ripped away from her fr. now, i DO NOT agree with some of the takes on how she was presented because those criticisms are in fact riddled with misogyny and most are just downright vile. but i do agree with the criticisms that not all lavellans would have been so kind to that bald man.

so anon, TRUST me when i say i feel you so bad. i was in lots of solavellan spaces before i started shipping dreadrook, and even then i was looked at SO funny for my takes on the romance and called plenty of terrible things simply because i didn't hold solas up on this pedestal and make my lav worship the ground he walked on. even as a dreadrooker, the same exact takes that i couldn't get behind in solav spaces are very prevalent in dreadrook spaces. solasmancers have a tendency to simply agree with solas on everything and refuse to acknowledge how bad of a person he really can be.

i am a proud solasmancer AND a proud solas hater. #1 solas hater, in fact. i rarely have positive things to say about his actions and behaviors outside of a joke setting, and even in a joke setting the things people will say to defend him RUB ME SO BADLY THE WRONG WAY. also heavy on the perusing the "critical" tags and getting offended when my takes are, in fact, critical LMFAO. anon i am literally a beggar sitting on the side of the street waving a metal cup at you asking for coins of your affection rn. i have maybe one other friend who feels like this and have hardly anyone to rant about these things with. holding my hands out towards you and begging you to dm me fr. PLEASE. we can be critical together <3

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️ 🗨️

FIRST WORDS OF THIS BAD BOY

84 for 🗨️:

---

It all starts because of a call to a senior’s home. 

Well, okay. Buck is sure it all started way before that. But in the immediate sense, it starts because of the senior’s home call. 

There’s a small kitchen fire in one of the units. Someone making stovetop popcorn, who forgot it was on the element. Honestly, it’s nothing the staff couldn’t handle with a fire extinguisher, but the LAFD is automatically flagged when the smoke alarm goes off. The problem is, the whole experience - the alarms, the smoke, the firefighters - triggers a panic attack in a completely different resident. A resident who, according to staff, already struggles with progressing dementia.

Her name is Alva, and when Hen and Chim approach her to try and help, she’s speaking rapid-fire in a language that is completely unfamiliar to Buck. Some flavor of European? 

“Sometimes when she’s stressed, her English regresses,” one of the workers explains. “She didn’t learn it until later in life, so…”

“Harder to retain,” Hen fills in. 

“So how do we communicate with her?” Chim asks. “What language is this?”

“It’s Swedish,” Eddie says. 

They all look at him. Buck did not know he could identify Swedish just by hearing it. 

But then he does something even crazier. Even more out of the realm of what Buck would expect from Eddie. Eddie, his best friend, who he’s supposed to know everything about. He approaches the woman and starts speaking to her. In Swedish. He doesn’t sound totally comfortable with it. It’s slow and awkward on his tongue, compared to hers. But he’s obviously doing a decent enough job, because the woman calms down enough to listen and respond to him. 

The four of them - Buck, Bobby, Hen, and Chim - just sort of gape at this exchange. Did anyone know? Why has this never come up before? 

Eventually, Eddie looks back at them. 

“Alva’s okay,” he says in English. “Doesn’t need to go to the hospital.”

“Thank you so much,” the worker says. “You’re a miracle worker!”

Eddie’s cheeks go a little red. “No trouble, really.”

They give Alva another few minutes to calm down and orient herself before a worker leads her back to her room. Then they all head back to the station. Of course, from the look on Eddie’s face as they leave the senior’s home, he understands he’s about to get grilled.

“So…” Bobby starts when they all sit down in the engine.

“Swedish?” Chim asks. 

“Wouldn’t have put money on that,” Hen adds.

“Why did you tell me?” Buck asks.

Eddie groans. “So I speak a little Swedish. No big deal.”

“Um, it is a big deal,” Buck says. “Because I didn’t know.”

“I’d say more than a little,” Bobby replies. “You really helped that woman, Eddie.”

“I’ve mentioned my mom is Swedish,” Eddie says. 

“Yeah,” Chim says. “But I thought it was, like, one of those things where it’s several generations past and culturally no longer relevant, but the white side of your family liked feeling special?”

Eddie snorts. “No. Like, she immigrated when she was seven.”

“And taught you Swedish?” Hen asks. “That’s cool.”

Buck frowns. Given what he knows about Eddie’s childhood, mother-son language lessons do not sound like they fit. 

“Not exactly,” Eddie says. “I picked some of it up. There’s not much else to say, okay? It came in handy today.”

They all know Eddie enough to know that that means the conversation is over. He’s great at putting up walls quickly. Shutting stuff down. But, although Buck may not know the full linguistic capabilities of his best friend, he does know one thing. Eddie only gets this dismissive because there is more to the story. So Buck will wait. Buck can wait to ask more. But he’s absolutely going to find out. 

🗨️

It’s sort of a sensitive time to be prying into Eddie’s life. Buck knows that. The guy has only been home from El Paso for two weeks. He’s got Chris back. That’s a good thing. But it’s not entirely smooth.

[thechildofshadows]

A DAY FOR LOVE

Avery Grambs/Jameson Hawthorne - 2k

Alright!!! This is my sad, sad attempt at fluff, and I also haven't written since like June, so I've had about half a year to lose my writing skills to the mess that is social media. This fic happens between The Hawthorne Legacy and the Final Gambit. When we first see our OTP, they've just told the world that they're dating, and they're preparing for a charity gala. (anyone can read- I rated this General Audiences on Ao3) have fun!

T-MINUS FOUR HOURS (BEFORE THE GALA)

“You’re nervous.” The statement came from Jameson, who saw right through her rapid finger-tapping as more than just an outlet for boredom.

Out of all of the things Avery needed to do that day, filling out forms seemed like the least stressful- and yet, it didn’t seem to curb her anxiety.

She looked up from her desk, and watched Jameson lean his back against the doorframe, putting her in the center of his field of vision.

“Of course I’m nervous! The Hawthorne Foundation Gala is today, and for some reason I’m doing taxes-“

“-and for your pain and suffering, you deserve at least a year’s worth of chocolate donuts!” Xander burst into the room, bearing said chocolate donuts and nearly knocking over Jameson. He tossed his brother a donut before taking a better look at Avery. “I fear you may require a stronger source of sugar with the amount of stress coming from you.” he placed the donuts on her desk.

When Avery didn’t take a donut, he raised an eyebrow. “Does this have nothing to do with taxes and everything to do with an upcoming press release involving the two of you?”

Avery looked at him, seeming close to panic, and both of Xander’s eyebrows went up. “I will take that as a yes, leave this room, and strongly recommend you lovebirds speak��to each other.”

Jameson left the door and stood against her desk, facing away. “Do you regret this, Heiress?”

Avery stood and braced herself on the desk. “Of course not. You know that, I know that, but does everyone else know?”

Jameson looked at her. “We’re doing this so that everyone knows. I don’t know if they’ll believe us, but they’ll be informed.”

Avery turned around, and leaned against Jameson. “They’re never going to believe or accept it. This community is weird, Jameson. They hate me enough as is, they’re never going to accept us together.”

Jameson raised an amused eyebrow. “Is that what you think?”

“What?”

“Look, you gave Alisa the picture and the caption yesterday. She posted it about two minutes ago-“

“-when the donuts came?” Avery’s shock was mixed with anger and relief and it caused Jameson to give her a small smirk.

“-yes, when the donuts came. I think you’re prepared for the worst, Heiress, but maybe not as prepared for the reception we’re truly receiving.” He handed her her phone.

Avery rapidly opened up Instagram and found her phone filled with notifications. She checked her latest post and found a picture of herself and Jameson covered in paint, from the day the two had built and painted her desk. In the photo, she gave Jameson a kiss on the cheek and it was captioned ‘first love ❤️❤️’.

It had over a million likes.

“Wait, a million?” Jameson leaned over her shoulder to look at her phone. It felt oddly domestic and she embraced the feeling. “Alisa said it had 10,000. It’s been less than five minutes, how is the app still running?”

Avery shrugged, a smile finding its way onto her lips. She opened up the comment section.

angel_face222 THEYRE SO CUTE

SONICSCREAMS people date this guy?

reply from lia-eliza dude imagine the kids 😍😍

HOT_TO_GO OPPOSITES ATTRACT CONFIRMED?????

      reply from SONICSCREAMS didn't she date his brother 😭 like that one interview

laffytaffyhappy does this mean he’ll stop being all law-breaky or will she start doing illegal shit.

my-name-is-slim-shaky wait, I lwk never imagined this, but they work so well together, it's my new OTP

theCALENDARRR oh to be young and in love.

      reply from I_is_calculator you're like 16

      reply from theCALENDARR shut up Jessica

      reply from I_is_calculator my name is Elena 😭

Jameson stopped her from scrolling further. "Look, the reception isn't all going to be puppies and chocolate donuts. But I think you're doing pretty good if Instagram thinks it’s not propaganda.”

"Jameson, that was five people out of-" she checked the phone again. "nine thousand comments."

Jameson shrugged. "I highly doubt they're the only five positive ones, Heiress, you would've had a harder time finding it otherwise."

Alisa, who Avery hadn't seen since that morning, walked into the room holding a large garment bag, followed by a makeup artist. "Congratulations, Avery. That's one of the most positively recieved posts I've ever seen on your account."

Jameson raised an eyebrow at Avery, giving her a look that said I told you so, and Avery let go of a breath she didn't even know she had been holding. "You're not joking?"

"Have you ever known Alisa to joke?" Alisa glared at Jameson, who punctuated the statement with a smirk.

Alisa turned to Avery. "About 95% of the general public reacted well, and out of that 5% that didn't, most were teenage girls."

Avery sighed. "As expected."

With the problem mostly settled, Alisa clapped her hands. "Okay, then, onto the rest of our duties. Avery, you have a gala in about four hours. Jameson, get out."

Jameson opened his mouth to protest and then decided against it, for he closed his mouth and dropped a kiss on the top of Avery's head before leaving.

Avery turned to Alisa. "You didn't have to kick him out."

Alisa closed the door behind Jameson, before ushering Avery to the bathroom. "Once you figure out how to get your makeup on while holding a conversation with him, he'll be allowed to stay. We need you both there on time, and you take significantly longer to get ready than he does."

T-MINUS ONE HOUR (Before the gala)

Jameson wasn’t exactly one to panic, but neither was Avery. He began tapping his foot and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down.

Alisa had left him a selection of four ties and matching pocket squares, and Jameson assumed he was supposed to wear them with a tuxedo. He pulled out the garment bag containing the black one, and began slowly buttoning his shirt.

The sounds of Hakuna Matata filled the room while he tucked his shirt in, and Jameson sighed before picking up his phone. Xander had set his ringtone over two weeks ago; Jameson hadn't gotten around to hacking it yet.

"How are ya doin', Jamie?"

"You live three doors down, why don't you tell me?" he hung up the call.

Not two seconds later, Nash strolled into his room, wearing flannel over jeans and a band t-shirt.

"You look like a waiter. Didn’t Grayson ever teach you to dress yourself?” he took a look toward the rest of the clothing Jameson had set out to wear.

Jameson ran a hand through his hair. “I look the same. I wore this last week.” 

“And then someone asked you for champagne. And you socked them in the face.”

He then proceeded to walk into Jameson's closet -"There’s nothing wrong with what I'm wearing!" "People are gonna ask you for more caviar; Grayson told me to not let you leave the house like that."- and after rummaging for two minutes, found a waistcoat that he didn't even know existed. It was the exact color of the tie Jameson wanted to pick, but Nash procured a black tie and pocket square.

"I think this is the same color as her dress, but honestly, it's gonna be dark, who's gonna see?" Nash held up the waistcoat, as if the nonexistant light would help him see better. 

Jameson took it from him. "Have I ever worn this?"

"Maybe. You were also drinking a lot, so I doubt you or the news remembers." Nash sniffed the cloth. "You would never even know. It doesn't even smell like bourbon."

Jameson raised an unimpressed eyebrow as he began to put his tie on.. “Don’t tell me you’re being serious.”

Nash crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “I couldn’t tell you whether it was true or not, Jamie, you wouldn’t believe me no matter what I said.”

Jameson buttoned up his waistcoat. “A wise man takes all truths with a grain of salt.” 

“Bullshit.” Nash drew out the first syllable.

Jameson gave his brother a smirk. “Don’t you know it.” He grabbed the suit jacket and left.

1.5 HOURS IN

“Oh hello dear!” The sound of posh over-confidence crept up behind Avery, who quickly turned.

“Mrs. Anderson!” The woman was one of the slightly pushy heads of a charity created to support budding culinary minds. While incredibly specific, the charity had sent over a thousand students to culinary school, who went on to open restaurants that were all doing pretty well. Avery didn’t mind the woman; she was a lot nicer than most of the attendees, and used her reach to benefit the people who needed it. “How are you, ma’am?”

“I’m doing great, darling, but we need to talk about that dress. You look stunning!”

Avery was draped in dark red silk, covering one arm, and hugging her body until it hit her hips, where it flowed in waves, just shy of reaching the ground. The asymmetrical neckline and bottom of the skirt were covered in minimal silver embroidery-visible when the light hit just so. Alisa had shoved her in a pair of black stilettos, and curled her hair, painting her lips with the same red as her dress. A silver choker was clasped around her throat, matching her earrings and the bracelets on her left hand.

She thanked the woman, handing her a glass of champagne, and asked, “Have you heard about the charity we’re sponsoring today?”

Avery and the woman chatted for a couple of minutes as Avery convinced her to donate thousands of dollars out of pocket.

“Cancer truly is a scary thing.” Mrs. Anderson smiled softly. “I lost my husband to lung cancer. I doubt the majority of these people consider the research worth funding.”

“They think they’re untouchable.” Avery said.

“Precisely, my dear.” The woman grabbed another glass of champagne before looking behind Avery. “Oh, I must add, you and Jameson Hawthorne are a beautiful couple.”

Avery felt her cheeks heat and she looked down, but Mrs. Anderson hadn’t finished. “The amount of love you two have for each other is simply incredible. Just being in the same room as you two makes me feel like an outsider; your bond is so sweet.”

Avery paused. Same room? She turned and saw an incredibly familiar face.

Jameson Hawthorne had finally showed up. He wore a dark grey suit-so dark it was nearly black, with a waistcoat the color of wine and silver chains. His tie matched his suit jacket and his hair was artfully arranged, neat with enough personality such that he still looked like himself.

Mrs. Anderson gave Avery a soft smile. “You two look at each other like a man seeing the stars for the first time in years. If this isn’t true love, I don’t know what is!”

Avery’s lips parted. “Really?”

“Oh trust me darling, you and Jameson are something that happens once in a lifetime.” The woman winked and walked away, exchanging greetings with Jameson, who was headed Avery’s way.

She motioned towards the side of the room, and he showed up a minute later with two wineglasses.

She leaned on a pillar and he stood her to her. “You look beautiful, Heiress.” Jameson handed her the wineglass as he said the statement.

Avery smiled. “And yet, you still upstage me by millions. How has this gala gone so far?”

Jameson grimaced and drained the wineglass like a shot. “All people want to talk about is the fact that I’m ‘off the market and it’s such a shame and won’t I please put in a good word for Grayson’ - if I hear another woman tell me any of that, I’m going through the old man’s whiskey stash.”

Avery suppressed a smile and switched their glasses. She doubted she would drink the wine, and Jameson seemed like he needed it more than she did. Jameson wasn’t usually this open, and she wondered if the wine wasn’t his first drink of the night. “You seem like you’ve had fun.”

Jameson shot her a smirk. “And you should be prepared for more, Heiress,” he clinked his glass against hers, “because I believe the slow dances just started.”

For the few hours, Jameson and Avery alternated between spinning around the dance floor and resting at the bar. Their routine was occasionally interrupted by a speech, a person or both, but by the end of the night, they had raised over a million dollars to charity. The venue closed, but they stayed for an additional thirty minutes to supervise cleanup.

  It took about forty minutes to get back to Hawthorne House and once they made it to Avery’s room, she tossed her heels into her closet and sat on the nearest chair.

Avery sighed. “I am never doing this again.” She stood up and began removing her jewelry, shedding her media persona for the sake of comfort.

Jameson unzipped her dress. “I highly doubt that.”

Avery shot him a look and she had to stifle a laugh when he mirrored it.

Once they were both changed and under the covers, Avery turned to Jameson and propped her head on a hand. “Do you know what day it is?”

Jameson’s eyes glittered and Avery knew he knew the answer. “The fourteenth?”

Avery rolled her eyes. “Valentine’s Day.”

Jameson smirked. “An astute observation, Heiress. And while one AM is a perfectly reasonable time to exchange gifts and other things, I don’t think you want to leave this bed right now.”

Avery nodded. “Definitely not.”

“Then Happy Valentine’s Day, Heiress, and I’ll see you when we inevitably wake up in six hours.”

Avery laughed and pulled him in for a kiss. When they broke apart, she whispered, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Jameson.”

And if she woke up the next day with several news articles focusing on the gala (or rather its hosts), well, she was going to ignore it all and spend the entire day with her amazing boyfriend.

fin.

Alright- 2.5 thousand words later, I wish you a happy Valentine’s Day!

(or just a happy Friday if you don’t have plans like me 😄)

(dividers are from @/cafekitsune)

please like, reblog and leave feedback in the comments. Or just throw tomatoes at me. Anything works.

I also realize now that im going to keep writing even if the reception is negative, so if you want to be added to the taglist, let me know!

expect another fic in 1-2 weeks, more likely 2 than one.

[seiya-starsniper]

Ok this is might be a bit of a weird one for the kiss prompts but...platonic hand kisses (or cheek kisses)? For Edwin and Niko? I just love their friendship!

Alternatively maybe goodnight kisses, for Payneland :)

ONE YEAR LATER, I'm finally answering this prompt 😅 I managed to make it work for the @fluffbruary Day 15 Prompt - Wonder as well. Hope you like this short and sweet ficlet, friend!

Also on AO3, for anyone who wants to leave a kudos or comment 💖

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Occasionally, Edwin forgets that the old ways of showing affection are outdated, or even an outright social faux pas, in the modern world. The first time he kisses Niko on the cheek, she makes a surprised “Oh!” sound, and then her cheeks turn a charming shade of pink. Edwin knows immediately that his intentions and her understanding of the gesture are entirely different. 

“Sorry, was that not all right?” he asks, hoping that he has not overstepped a boundary, or worse, given her an impression of intent he did not mean to communicate.  

“Oh no, you’re fine!” Niko reassures him with a nervous laugh. “It’s just—sometimes I forget non-Japanese people are so affectionate with their friends,” she adds with a wave of her hand, and that is when Edwin realizes her blush is one of embarrassment. 

“Really?” Edwin asks, now curious instead of alarmed. “I had understood that modern people were more open with their affection these days.” Charles certainly was. He hugged and touched Edwin at every opportunity. 

Niko nods. “Yeah, it’s different from country to country,” she confirms. “I think I can count the amount of times my dad hugged me on one hand,” she adds, holding out said hand and staring intently at it, as if trying to mentally count the number off her fingers. “We don’t really say things like ‘I love you’ either, that was a huge shock for me the first time a friend said it to me.”

“That sounds…” Edwin pauses. He does not want to be insensitive to Niko’s cultural home, even though he does not quite understand why such a place would normalize withholding such simple gestures. Perhaps that would be a research topic for him later. 

“Are you uncomfortable with such things, then?” he asks instead. Edwin has learned over the years that preference for physical touch is individualized, no matter the time period or culture. There are some who would kiss their family members on the mouth, and others whose deepest show of affection is a stern grasp of the shoulder. 

“Nope, not at all!” Niko answers. “It’s just surprising sometimes. But I know it means you care,” she adds with a smile. 

Edwin smiles back at her. “I do. I value our friendship very much, Niko, and I wish to communicate it to you, often, if that is alright with you.” 

Niko’s entire face lights up, and she nods. “Yeah, of course! Can I—is hugging okay too?” she asks.

Hugs are still a thing Edwin isn’t completely comfortable with, but Charles has hugged him enough times to get him used to the act. Crystal too. 

“Of course,” he answers, and then Edwin suddenly finds his arms full with a small Japanese girl. It’s different than hugging Charles, of course it is, but Edwin finds he enjoys the gesture anyways. 

“Hugs are wonderful things, aren’t they?” Niko says, burying her face in Edwin’s shoulders. Edwin finds that he shares that sentiment. Hugs are a wondrous thing indeed.

“Yes,” he agrees, hugging her back just as fiercely. “They are.”

[tedbecca]

sunflowers was not my favourite TL episode. it had some really good moments and other moments i was like eeehhhhh about. but overall i did enjoy it and i look forward to seeing where the characters go from here

[puppppppppy]

Was nobody gonna warn me that I would fall a little bit in love with every character in Stardew

[marimbles]

i miss carpisuns sometimes </3

[eywaseclipse]

Happy birthday to the man that made it all possible! I highly recommend enjoying his other films if you haven’t already. He’s a trailblazer and pioneer to the industry and changed filmmaking as a whole. Happy birthday James 💙💙💙

[my-animeandmanga-journey]

He really should have said something before he let his worry turn to anger.

Yes, she should have said something, both about her nightmares and about Arata. Especially given that Arata secretly invited her to take him up on some offer. ('Course, tbh, I don't know if I would have said anything about it, either. It was a very awkward moment.)

Hmm... I get what he means, and he's not entirely wrong, but I don't think he was right in saying it this way. Miyo was thinking of him. She simply can't fathom the concept that someone might want her to trust them so completely. She didn't grow up knowing what trust even is, so she can't understand why Kudo would think she doesn't trust him.

Also, I think it may be that Miyo actually doesn't trust him, but not in a sense of, "I can't trust you not to hurt me," but "I can't trust you to be strong enough to handle this." Trust issues are complicated. Take the old trust fall: there's a big difference between looking at a strong, young man and saying, "I don't trust you to even attempt to catch me," and looking at a 75-year-old woman in a wheelchair and saying, "I don't trust you to not get hurt." Kudo may be thinking Miyo's thinking the first; Miyo is definitely thinking the second.

It's just one of those scenarios where everyone involved did everything wrong. Kudo should have said something, but he wants to respect Miyo's privacy and independence by letting her say something on her own. Which Miyo would probably never do- she's using "oh, he's so tired" as an excuse, she would probably never say anything because she's so used to bearing it all on her own.

Meanwhile, Kudo clearly IS tired, he's so exhausted that Godo had to practically YELL at him to get the heck outta the office and get some sleep at home. Half the reason Kudo's so tired is because he's worried sick about Miyo. But because Miyo's closed herself off and Kudo's pretty much written her off as "yeah, fine, do whatever you want, then," he's stopped noticing and just started sleeping in his office. And in the process, Miyo's getting worse and worse because Kudo's not there to protect her from her nightmares. Kudo wasn't even getting proper sleep at home because he had to stay up half the night watching Miyo.

Just a situation that kept spiraling out of control because nobody would open their mouth.

[outlying-hyppocrate]

i have officially returned. ask me anything.