#writing this took away so many years of my lifespan

[soyaei]

Karaoke with teen nanami please 😊 He gets dragged into it!!

Hangout session with my crush

high school Au, no curses Au, just them having a normal life.

Note: This is such a good idea, tbh i was excited myself to write this! Also, Haibara is uhm.. almost forgotten here so, very sorry for that.

You had a little crush on Nanami, but you tried to ignore your feelings for him. You just have the feeling that he won’t ever like you back since he doesn’t seem to be the type of person to be in love and plus, this feeling will probably go away, so whats the point?

“Hey guys, Let’s go somewhere after school!”

Haibara said as he took his lunch money out of his pocket. You and your friends are about to get out of class and go to the cafeteria for lunch.

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea. Im in.” Shoko agreed.

“Hey guys, you have to do your homework first, then we can go somewhere!” Utahime scolded.

“Womp womp” said gojo and geto.

“That sounds fun! Do you wanna come Ken-“ You were cutoff by the sight of Nanami successfully sneaking out of the chaotic classroom that is filled with the shouting of Utahime’s scolding.

“Uh- uhm.. Kento wait up!” You went out to chase Nanami, no one noticing.

“Kento, how could you walk out like that? Its rude you know.” You scolded him. He looks at you with an emotionless face and sighs in frustration.

“Utahime is right, maybe we should do our homework first.” “Come on! I doubt that you want to sing, so how about you do it in the karaoke room? Its just history notes anyway.”

You tried to make Nanami reconsider but he was having none of that.

——————————————————————————

The bell rings and the teacher dismisses the class.

“Finally! Schools over. It felt like it had took 5 years of my lifespan. Now let’s go to that karaoke guys!” Gojo said to his friends, excited for the karaoke outing.

Your friends, surprisingly including Nanami, exits the school together. Everyone taking their bikes. Not knowing that Nanami will not be participating except for you. You sneak up behind Nanami who is just standing there, since he walks to school, he doesn’t have a bike.

“Boo!” You tried to scare him but to your expectations, he wasn’t scared… at all.

“Come! You can hop on my bike. Or… If you don’t want people to mistake me as your girlfriend, you can ride Haibara’s.” You chuckled at the last sentence. Nanami tried to walk away and you’ve. had. enough. You dragged Nanami by his collar to force him on your bike, not realizing you were the center of attention.

“Woa, Nanami just got dragged by a girl!” Geto teased as he hits Gojo with his elbow to make sure he’s paying attention to what he’s pointing at.

“I don’t want to-“ “you- are- going- to- come- with us!” Successfully you made him sat at your bike’s passenger seat. Not wasting anytime you hop on your bike.

“Let’s go everyone! Y/N’s the lead!” Shoko shouted out to her friends.

——————————————————————————

In about 10 minutes or so, you and the rest of your friends have finally arrived to your destination. You get off your bike and grab Nanami’s wrist, pulling him in the karaoke.

“Hello! How many people?” The worker ask. Shoko handles the registration and finally it was time to pay. You take out your wallet from your backpack, about to take out your money but then Nanami taps on your shoulder: You look back at him as you make a “what?” face.

“I’ll pay you… you don’t have to pay back. Just consider this as a thanks for… uhm… everything” Nanami explained as Geto, Gojo and Shoko snickered in the background, Haibara and Utahime looking at them with one eyebrow up.

“Wow… That’s kind of sudden, but who am i to reject that offer? Thanks so much Kento!”

After you were all done with paying for the registration and finding your room, you finally get to rest and jump on the karaoke room sofa. Gojo wasted no time and looks for a song to sing on the tablet, Geto trying to push him away from the it since he wants to go first. Utahime scolding the two of them and Shoko just watches. Haibara is still looking around the room, amazed by the design.

You and Nanami were just… sitting. It isn’t unusual for Nanami to be very quiet but it is for you. To be quite honest you are a bit exhausted from paddling you bike since… you never really paddle it with a passenger on it, not to mention it being Nanami.

“So… are you actually going to sing? To be honest when i forced you on my bike i didn’t actually expect for you to not mind.” You said to break the awkward silence between you two.

“Oh… well, I don’t really have plans anyway and im done what needs to be done for school. So why not just tag along?” Nanami explained. But in his heart, it’s actually just because he wanted to spend some time with you and his friends, but more with you. It might sound selfish but hey he’s rarely selfish himself so why not have that personality trait once in a while.

“Okay everyone, we’re done picking the song. Let’s sing!” says Shoko as she grabs a mic. Everyone doing the same and wow what a coincidence, you were just about to grab yours just to realize that all of the available mics are taken by everyone.

“Oh.. I don’t have a mic.” You said disappointedly. “Here, you can have mine, i think i won’t sing that much anyway.” Nanami lends you his mic, but you don’t take it since its not often for him to go to hangouts, and you don’t want to ruin this for him.

“No! It’s okay… I’ll just sing without a mic!”

Gojo and Geto looks at each other with a “are you thinking what im thinking” face. “Hey! I have an idea! Why don’t you two share?” Gojo suggests with a smirk.

Nanami slightly blushes. Surprisingly he doesn’t hit Gojo for that and just did what he said. You on the other hand, thanked Nanami for being able to share the mic.

“Okay, Let’s do this!” Geto said as everyone cheered.

——————————————————————————

It had been 2 hours already and you were all ready to go. Packing everything up, making sure nothing and no one is left behind, they exit the karaoke room and finally the building.

“Good grief guys! See you guys tomorrow!” Says Gojo as he starts paddling his bike, Geto following not that long after. “Yea, That was really fun!” Haibara adds.

“Are you going to send Nanami home, Y/N?” Shoko asked you. “Yea, I was the one who dragged him here. And Haibara cant send him home because…. uhm.” You look at Haibara, hoping he tells you the reason.

“Oh, my mom told me to get stuff from a nearby convenience store. It might take a while and I don’t want to keep Kento wait for me. Again, thank you do much Y/N, and sorry again Kento, see you guys!”

“Okay then, get home safe, bye!” Utahime says before hopping on Shoko’s bike.

“Well, there they go. It’s been a long day, right Kento?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” Nanami seemed to be thinking of something but you didn’t thought much about it.

“Let’s go. I can’t be late or else my mom will think i got kidnapped or something, Hop o-“

“Wait, I’ll paddle the bike for you.”

As Nanami says that, you stare at him with confusion.

“Why all of the sudden?”

“You were very exhausted when we arrived here, so i figured it was because you had me as your passenger.”

“Oh, no no, please ignore that i think i was extra tired because of-“

“No excuses” Nanami says before taking your bike’s handles of your hands.

“Really, I don’t make offers unless i really want to do them. You know that Y/N”

“Oh okay fine…” You give up on trying to convincing him to just let you paddle the bike. You walked up to the said bike and sat on the passenger seat.

——————————————————————————

Nanami paddles your bike to his house. As he arrives, he gets off your bike and thanked you. Nanami opens the gate to his house and you left.

You finally arrived home, you immediately went into your room, locking the door and jumped on your bed, sighing in exhaustion. Your social battery is low, some sleep would help.

Ding!

Your phone vibrates, a notification from a group chat of your friends. You press the notification only yo be met with a picture of you and Nanami singing together.

Shoko: Look, Kento is smiling.

Utahime: Woah! Even do he’s just slightly smiling, it’s still a rare sight.

Gojo: When are you guys gonna be official

Geto: Let’s make them kiss

Haibara: Nanami! Congratulations! You didn’t tell me you were dating!

Nanami: No Haibara, I’m not. Ignore them.

Y/N: 😭😭😭

You laughed at their response. You were about to turn off your phone when suddenly another person send you a message. You once again open your messages and to your surprise, It was Nanami.

Nanami: Y/N, I want to take you out. Just the two of us.

[intoxicated-chan]

𝐘𝐨𝐮❜𝐫𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐝 𝐌𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐞

Summary ➳ Thranduil’s words ring in your head as reality of your immortality hits. You should’ve known that it was too good to be true.

(A/n) ➳ Inspired by “Rolling in the Deep” by Adele. This is going to have two other endings, one happy ending and angst ending.

Word Count ➳ 1.4k

Content Warnings ➳ Female reader, Reader is an Elf, pet names (amrâlimê, meleth nîn), heavy angst, mentions of death, mentions of violence…

Thranduil’s words hit you hard when you were brought in front of him while the rest were locked up. He sat cockily on this throne and spat out words that enraged you right down to the core. But it made sense… You were an Elf, not a half-Elf. You cannot choose between immortality or mortality.

You would walk the lands of Middle-Earth until you were struck down or go to Valinor. Dwarves live long but not close enough to compare to an Elves’s lifespan. Even so… Even after death, Kili will go where you cannot follow.

“If you love him, and you are confident that he loves you. It would be best if you parted ways now or until either of you die on the field.” Thranduil spoke soft and low. “You have enough time in your life to find another or none at all. You will face his death or he will face your immortality. It’s a relationship that will never hold happiness.”

“I can’t go with you Kili.” You pulled your hand from him while stepping back into the direction of Mirkwood. “I cannot continue with you all.”

“W-What do you mean?” Kili was already in pain, was it the adrenaline or the pain throbbing from his thigh that was keeping him from thinking the worst? “Come on, we don’t have enough time. The orcs are on our tail.”

“Let me rephrase…” You took a deep breath to relax your beating heart and to clutch the hilt of your stolen sword tightly. “I’m not coming. This is where my journey ends.”

“You can’t say that! You’re part of the company-!”

“I am part of no company. I came with you all out of pity.”

“You’re lying!”

“This is where it ends for me-!”

“Enough!” Thorin interrupted, marching to you and Kili, he was already angry, tired, and completely drenched. “If she wishes to leave then let her! We have no time to carry dead weight!” He said before turning back to the rest of the Company who were trying to decide what to do.

“(Y/n), surely this isn’t you. You cannot turn back now, we are so close.” Kili pleaded with you, using whatever strength to stand on his own.

“Kili-”

He snatched your hands, holding them together in his own bloody hands to lay a kiss on them. “Please, do not go. Don’t go where I won’t be able to follow. I want you to lay your eyes on my home, I want to do it with you.”

He looked up at you with watery eyes and a tear falling…

Kili then gripped your shirt with both of his hands to pull you down into a frantic kiss. His lips quivered as he held back the urge to burst into tears right in front of you and the rest. “I beg you, amrâlimê.”

“...Goodbye, Kili.” You pulled away once more and could see everyone staring at you. You gave no time for them to say anything, only a silent nod in Thorin’s direction before rushing back to Mirkwood and hopefully talking of leaving the forest the same way you came in, even if it met you’d have to face the spiders again.

You chose to lay down your sword and leave for Rivendell to spend your many years in solace until you were ready to sail to Valinor. You believed that Thranduil informed Lord Elrond that you were on your way since he welcomed you with open arms but he refused to say anything.

There were many Elves, but not once have you attempted to have conversations with them. You kept to yourself, reading, walking, eating and then bed, almost like a pattern.

It continued for months until you received two letters. One from Thranduil and one from Kili. But they were delivered at the same time, the messenger explained that Thranduil let Kili write to you one last time.

Thranduil wrote to you, his words solidified your choice to leave the Company behind. Yet there was guilt still residing since what you said was a lie. You joined because you genuinely wanted to help, you hoped that it would’ve been easier on the rest.

When it came to Kili’s letter, you wanted to push it aside, hoping to read it when you felt ready. But you knew you couldn’t push it back anymore.

‘Amrâlimê,

It has been some time since I’ve last felt your warmth, or heard your voice, or held your hands. I miss the way you speak in rhymes, or stories of your adventures and battles. I wished you too could have laid your eyes on Erebor, and I’m still sure you will love it here. Everyone knows you didn’t mean those words, they didn’t take it to heart. They wish for your return as well, as do I.

I wish to spend the rest of my days with you and you alone, and if I must come and find you then I will. You have my heart, you have me in your hands, and my home isn’t truly home if you aren’t there with me.’

You still had a second page to read but you broke down, sobbing as you held the letter like your life depended on it. You were fighting with yourself, you were desperate to rush back to Erebor and see him.

But Thranduil’s words once again rang through your head. You can go back to Kili but then face his death or you could stay here but still face his death… Either way, he dies in the end. There was no way around it.

Lord Elrond comes into your line of sight, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. You managed to slow your tears and clear your throat. “When is the next ship to Valinor going to leave?”

“If you make this decision, you cannot go back.” Lord Elrond warned you. “You still have time to be with him. Do not make a decision you will regret.”

“I’ve had my time, I know my choice. Kili should be with his people.”

“(Y/n)-”

“Kili shall receive my sword, Fili will get my knives, Thorin will have my collection of jewels, and Bilbo will be gifted my journals.” You looked back at the nicely boxed items. “The rest can get a choice of my belongings.”

“You have planned this out from the start, haven’t you?”

“Elves can only love Elves, it’s easier without heartbreak.” You folded Kili’s letter neatly. “I would like to thank you for the hospitality.”

“A group is leaving now.” Lord Elrond can see that you weren’t going to change your mind, he sighed and nodded. “I wish you well (Y/n).”

“Thank you once again, Elrond.” You grabbed your cloak and wrapped it around your shoulders as you left your room and towards the group of Elves leaving for Valinor as well.

‘Kili,

From the day you sought me out and I watched you climb that tree to proclaim how you wished to be with me. Or the hours by the campfire exchanging stories. It saddens me that this will be my final words to you, if there was some other way for us to be together without it being painful then trust me when I say I would run right back to you.

You amazed me each day, the jokes, your skills, you will continue to surprise me from this day and until my last. I will think back to you and your smile, but please understand that my decision is for the best.

With all of my life, meleth nîn. Someday, we shall meet again but not in this world.’

“This is a lie.” Kili slammed his hands on the table. “Where is she?!”

“Kili!” Fili pulled him back.

“I speak nothing but the truth, she left for Valinor, she’s days away if not then boarding the ships.” Elrond informed the two brothers. “Either way, she’s gone, beyond your reach.”

But Kili still refused, he shook his head angrily. “That’s still a chance.”

“You won’t be able to change her mind.” Fili warned him.

“If she wanted to… She would say it to my face.” He rushed off, nearly taking a tumble down the steps.

Fili chased after him, grabbing his arm to stop him. “You heard what the Elf said, she could be boarding the ships.”

“Or days away!” Fili froze as he saw tears swell his eyes. “I cannot let her go, I promised myself that wherever she goes, I will go. I could not do it the first time, but I am now.”

© Intoxicated-Chan 2023, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission.

[modkatisbacc]

I ain't done talking about the Elemental Alliance Actually (And some Predecessors)

This post is for the timeline of how things happen in my stories *Unless told otherwise, like in a crossover or if they setting is wildly different* and is most likely ( A Girl can dream) not canon compliant.

This is just for the main elements as no one else is really fleshed out yet. I'm getting there.

Putting this under a read more because I will eventually turn these into like short stories after noticing im... writing their entire backstory... uh oh Im going in too deep.

Man if I could draw ya'll would be getting so many doodles... one day.

We're just going back a generation and a half, since some of the Elemental Alliance that we see get their powers sooner/later than others.

The oldest in the EM Alliance, besides Garmadon, Wu, and Misako (I'll talk more about Misako later on in this post, as a treat. She's part of the Alliance too, after all <3) is Whint, Master of Ice.

Whint is in his late nineties when we see him in flashbacks, with Elemental Masters having expanded life spans.

People did not like the idea of Elemental Masters for a LONG time, and actively sent out people to hunt them. Either to kill them out of fear, or take their power for themselves.

When Whint found out about his powers as a young teen, he knew he was in trouble. Like every master of ice before *and after* him, he had visions and the gift of sixth sense. He would run on for several decades, trying to live in small villages and towns, and then in the Birchwood Forrest and the surrounding area when he noticed that his presence put people in grave danger.

He would leave pure devastation in his wake when he knew he was being followed by enemies. This is actually how Garmadon found him. He had been trailing Whint for nearly a week, trying to find the right time to show himself, as he had transformed into a falcon to follow him. After being nearly overwhelmed by enemies, Garmadon decided to show himself and save Whint.

After a lot of convincing, Garmadon finally got Whint to follow him back to the Monastery.

Whint is in his late sixties when he joins the brothers and some of the other elemental masters.

The Master of Lightning was just as tricky to find as Ice, if not more so. The Masters of Lightning never stayed in one place long, always retreating back into the desert. They never tell anyone their name, they never reveal their face, and they never reveal their intentions.

On average, the brothers and Misako have noted that the Masters of Lightning seem to have the shortest lifespan of the four main elements. With Lightning being the hardest to control, and with little to no training, by the time the three finally found a living master, several had already died mere years between each other.

A young teen by the name of Edna Walker had found the Master of Lightning herself. He was extremely tired, and had accidentally used his power in front of her while fixing up a vehicle he planned to steal.

Instead of ratting him out, as the town was full of people willing to do anything to get their hands on an elemental master (for money), she just grabbed him and drug him out of town.

While Edna thought on how to get him away from the desert safely, the two ended up forming a bond, with her being the first person to not actively try to hurt him.

Edna noticed that he never told her his name, only to be told he didn't have one, that he knew of. With that, the boy decided that his name would be Ed. The two were inseperable after that, and when Edna heard rumors of the brother's monastery, she took him there.

Imagine their surprise when they see an extremely skinny, very tired Master of Lightning show up on their doorstep.

*This is in order, they recruit Ed a few years after they recruit Whint, so Ed and Edna are... Hm... in their late 70's now?*

Years later, the two have a child and name her Libber. She receives the power of Lightning when she is thirteen years old.

During the time at the monastery together, Whint and Ed become close friends, and Whint is named the Godfather of Libber.

She is absolutely spoiled by her parents and you KNOW IT. She has such a bubbly and energetic personality and her parents are just so happy for her,, they know she'll be safe with the others.

Her and Lilly become best friends when she joins, as they are the youngest in the Offically Formed Elemental Alliance. (She is 19 and Lilly is 12, if the timeline is timelining thanks Ninjago Timeline)

Cole (Sr.) was the easiest next to Ray and Maya to find and recruit. He tended to hang around the monastery but was uncommitted to the cause. After much persuasion over the years, he finally commits to it.

He and Whint have to deal with a bunch of traumatized kids by the time they join. He helps build defenses around the monastery with his power and is the reason the Mountain of a Million Steps is Like That Somewhat (TM), actually.

He and his wife have a daughter, Lilly, and then his wife (Not named yet I'm sorry) dies from an illness.

He brings her around the monastery from time to time to get her adjusted to seeing other elemental masters, and then dies when she is twelve.

(I already spoke on Lilly. She got her own post Lets gooo)

Ember Smith, mother of Ray and Previous Master of Fire, led her own monastery not too far from the brothers. She was extremely strict on her teachings, and taught both Ray and Maya when they were young. Ray recieved her powers when he was still quite young, and she taught him how to harness them through brutal training.

*Ember wasn't apart of the EM Alliance but she is still quite important to its development*

She was killed in an apparent 'accident' at her monastery, with no one really knowing the truth behind it.

With Ray taking over, he and Wu were already quite close friends alongside Maya. Ray and Maya did Not start dating until their early 20's, though they did grow up together. (They did not have Kai and Nya until their late 20's-early 30's)

Ray had been surrounded by elemental masters and others who knew how to fight his entire life so settling in was much easier for him, although he was still grieving his mother.

Went to work forging weapons for the team, alongside Maya. With their Craftsmenship, they were practically unbeatable.

Practically.

Maya received her powers when she was six years old. She did not have her power passed down by a parent, as the previous master of water never had children, never really communicating with anyone else, let alone another elemental master.

They were so much of a recluse that the brothers and Misako could never discover who they were. Ember, however, seemed to know something that the others didn't and trained her alongside Ray. She learned how to harness how power quickly and how to be a destructive force.

Despite her strict upbringing she actually isn't very strict herself, and goes with the flow. "Oh I have these elemental powers now. That's cool! Ray and I match now!"

Little Maya definitely didn't have to put out fires around Ember's monastery when Ray's powers got out of control No Sir.

Now onto the Brothers.

These two classify their powers as elemental, though since they're the sons of the First Spinjitzu Master, everyone is pretty sure it's more than that.

When going to recruit Elemental Masters for the past few hundred years, Garmadon would go after the more estranged, dangerous, people while Wu would go after the ones that could be easily convinced.

Destruction and Creation are what their elements are listed as, though they tend to not use their powers in fear of causing more harm than good.

With the EM Alliance they let their Oni and Dragon features show out more, with Wu having a tail and more draconic features, while Garmadon had more Oni features. They usually used them to fight, as both had long sharp claws and teeth.

The two gave each other confidence, whenever they strode into battle or any distressed event, but with Garmadon's venom and the situation at hand, the relationship still was very stressed.

(The letter doesn't happen in any of my aus or stories btw. Im just... so sick of Love Triangles Please)

Misako is the one that tended to keep everyone together. She would accompany elemental master on missions that they needed to know more information about, and could fight very well.

Now, on to the... Misako Backstory.

She is effectively immortal, for reasons I cannot go into here as it will be explained a story I plan to write... somewhat soon. The brothers met her when they were children themselves.

Due to tragic circumstances, unfortunately.

Though this does help when she has to deal with booby trapped sites and the like, as even if they hit her she would just heal pretty quickly.

(Ala Salem from RWBY, but not evil. Actually a Lot Like Salem's situation from RWBY, if this gives any hints.)

Now here's the tragic run down in bullet points!!!

I have put Morro's whole ordeal about a Hundred years before the EM Alliance was formed. Garmadon was also off with Chen at the time *Dark Magic increasing Life Span as well* Wu hasn't stopped thinking about him even for a day.

The brothers/Misako were all teens when they started searching for their first generation of elemental masters, as their father had just died and they were desperate to find people to help them protect Ninjago.

The order of the EMs dying goes: Ember, Cole (SR) Libber (Technically but not really <3) Whint (Right after Libber) and then Lilly. (With the other Ems either dying as well or scattering after the war/time twins)

Ed and Edna have forgotten all about Libber somehow, and most of their past has been... replaced... by different memories.

Lilly got to visit Ray and Maya Twice before she got very sick. This means Cole and Kai technically DID meet, but lol ain't no toddlers remembering that. Ray and Maya also go missing shortly after and!!! No one knows!!! Because they've all distanced themselves by force or by fear

Misako wanted to raise Lloyd on her own so badly that it still eats her up inside that she left him at Darklys. She wanted to save her family so badly and technically she did and then in the end it didn't matter anyway and now it matters again all of a sudden and the last she saw of her husband he tried to murder her and *rambles*

Whint ran off when Libber was reported missing. He went to her parents first, only to learn that they don't remember him, and they definitely do not remember their own daughter.

This was made worse when he realized that his suspicions of Cliff selling her out were true when Ed And Edna showed him Jay, now thinking that the woman must have been the one to leave her child at their doorstep.

While going back to report to Wu he notices that he is being followed, and in an act of desperation runs into the Birchwood Forrest to try and lose them.

He's never heard of again until Wu comes to Birchwood Forrest himself and finds Zane.

Wu, in the beginning did NOT want to recruit The Main Four (Kai, Jay, Zane, Cole) as he believed they would be better off doing whatever they were doing before being unaware of their history and their true power.

In the end his fear of losing Ninjago to his brother and Misako convincing him that their parents/predecessors would not want them to live ignorant of their power/lives, he sets off to find them. Deadset on atoning for what he believes are his mistakes.

Anything I didn't put here are way too spoilery for the EM Alliance fic I plan on writing (and I haven't mentioned the time Twins/some of the others in the alliance for the same reason)

In my stories I DO make the Emperor and Empress like straight up evil, trying to keep the EM's under their thumb, or else.

"They're very private people" and the fact that we don't really have a clear timeline of Ninjago's history... like it skips from the FSM being around to the EM Alliance. And thats all we really see, because yeaah it's not relevant but what if its because it was kept a secret what if... (Things that will be talked about more in an offical au post when... when I actually get a cohessive plot down) and Mystake even filling in some of the FSM's history and how Ninjago actually came to be... Considering no one knew of the... civilization in the sea that predated Ninjago. And the Keepers.

Anyway they are so interesting and tragic to me and *twirls hair* why can't I write this much in fics that I am currently working on I'm crying.

[lokisgoodgirl]

hi!! today is my birthday and the thought of getting older, having so many responsabilities, my work, etc. It makes me really tense and stressed 😭 can u write something about loki trying to cheer reader on her birthday?

Hey lovely Anon 😊Happy birthday! Here's a little gift from me to you.

Fluff, w/c 300ish

----

Possibilities

"You just don't get it, Loki..." you scoffed, pulling the bed sheet over your face as the god stood at the door to your bedroom, grin fading.

The dainty cupcake nestled in his palms seemed superfluous in the face of your annoyance. He blew the candle out with a pointed huff. "I know you said you didn't want a fuss darling but really, tis but a sponge."

"Tis not just a sponge." you said sarcastically, muffled beneath the duvet. "It's a reminder that I'm another year older, and I just want everything to stay the same. I don't want pressure and all that shit...it's just..it's too much."

Loki's chuckle took you by surprise as you felt his weight ease onto the mattress by your knees. "And I wouldn't 'get' that because...?"

You pulled the duvet tighter around your head. "Because you're a god, dummy. You don't understand these things."

The sound of Loki chewing filled the silence. "Are you eating my cake?" you said incredulously, breaking your own mood.

"I don't think you understand the gift that this day represents, love." he spoke calmly, ignoring your protestations. The sound of him licking frosting from his lips was crystal clear in your mind. You peeked over the duvet.

His smile greeted you. It was small, but knowing. "Every year for you is filled with possibilities only limited by your own doubt. Can you not see that?"

You frowned, as he took another small bite from the quickly diminishing cupcake. He chewed twice, and swallowed. "I have seen many beings, with lifespans many times that of your own squander their own potential as they thought time was limitless. Believe me, it was not." His words were firm, but a twinkle in his eye betrayed his amusement.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" you drawled, running your eyes down his chiselled bicep to the finger tracing a pool of crumbs on the plate. He shrugged, pressing the tip to the porcelain and bringing it to his lips. He sucked it thoughtfully.

"My point is, that the general premise of life is to live it. To celebrate it." he raised an eyebrow. "It is my understanding that in order to do that, one must accept that in order to grow and thrive...one must change. Adapt."

A smile tugged at his lip, likely recalling the way that you saved him from himself all those years ago. God, how you loved him.

"There is beauty and hope in places you cannot imagine. In every step you haven't taken, your possibilities are endless. Would you throw that away to wallow in your own misery?" he said slowly, echoing the words you had spoken that day which changed his life. Perhaps he did understand after all.

You felt a reluctant smile begin to creep to your cheeks as Loki tentatively offered the plate forward. The half cupcake lay on its side.

His dark brows rose as you snatched it and popped it in your mouth, letting the vanilla sponge melt against your tongue with a satisfied sigh.

"Happy birthday, love." he murmured gently, leaning forward to press a tender kiss to your forehead with a smile.

❤️☺️

You might like this Idk :) @fictive-sl0th @holdmytesseract @theaudacitytowrite @thomase1 @peaches1958 @wheredafandomat @lovelysizzlingbluebird @gigglingtigger @mochie85 @michelleleewise @mischief2sarawr @loopsisloops @cheekyscamp @maple-seed @coldnique @justjoanne242

[deadnamedblog]

No one dies in One Piece

I realised something today : no one dies in One Piece. I had heard it, I knew most of the characters are resistant as hell and survive things that should have killed them in one shot. I knew my most mourned character was back. But I hadn't realised it.

Today, I realised that when I was sad characters were coming back, it was because I believed my blorbo was dead. Why is it not him coming back? That's what I was thinking. So I asked someone who didn't like other characters coming back if they had someone they would have wanted back. They had.

I thought about it for a couple of hours. Because I hadn't spent that much time thinking about this character.

And I realised they might not be dead either !

And I realised no one dies in One Piece !

For some characters it's too late, I don't see a way to have them alive without changing the story. Belle-mère, Hiluluk, Corazon… those I don't see coming back.

But Pedro?

I think Pedro could be alive. Two of Big Mom's children had to live for him to survive, but if That Man(TM) is back, I don't see why Oda-sensei would have wanted to kill Pedro.

It all starts with Pedro's lifespan. And Big Mom's sixteenth son, Charlotte Moscato : To prevent his mother from destroying the capital city entirely, he attempted to calm her, and she attacked him and stole fourty years of his lifespan.

"Every last second. Okay?" Says Mont-d'Or to the Soul collectors.

I believe it means that previous pieces of soul removed as a tax and used in Homies can be given back. That Moscato could be given back some of his time and survive. 'What soul of him you find you give him back, every last second.' or something like that.

(To write this I went on the wiki and learnt there that indeed, Moscato has survived and was seen on the Queen Mama Chanter in chapter 901. It is a very good sign.)

So I hope Big Mom's Devil Fruit works like Moria's. Remember Thriller Bark? Purified and beaten zombies' shadow went back to their original owner. Here on Whole Cake Island Luffy did a number on Homies : both in the Seducing Wood and then on the battlefield against chess pieces. Pedro and Brook also took many of them out. What if some of those were powered by Pedro's soul? He could have regained some time back.

Then there is Perospero. He is the main clue. He was right there with Pedro at the center of the explosion but survived. Pedro was holding his foot, but what is missing is his right arm.

I believe Perospero had two choices with his Devil Fruit : coat himself in a full candy bubble to protect himself, or try and get the bomb away from him. I might have chosen to encase myself in a candy maiden, or in a full candy bind and damn Pedro in the process, but for Perospero that's what he does to his ennemies. To Chopper and Brook for example. He uses his candy mainly for attack, not defense. So he chose the other solution : he grabbed the bomb in his candy to try and fling it away enough before it exploded. He wasn't in time. It exploded in his hand and he lost his arm. His feet were intact.

Pedro will be in bad shape. He had no armour. Perospero had some.

"Maybe he is still alive" says Carot. I believe her. "If we waste this moment, we couldn't face Pedro again." Says Luffy. This gives me hope.

I believe Pedro survived the bomb and was made prisonner.

If Oda-sensei is consistent in the way he builds his stories, Pedro might even already have escaped with the help of the Wolf Mink who recognised him when they first landed in Cacao Island. Taking advantage of Kuzan's attack in Big Mom's territories.

I hope reading this will help some of you. No one dies in One Piece.

[eilinelsghost]

frankie each of the snippets you post for the game make me go "woah" and add like 10 years to my lifespan. your writing is so beautiful

Friend!!! 😭 This just made my day. I've been really struggling to get back in the flow of Atandil after doing nothing but TRSB for the last month or so, and this was just what I needed. Thank you so much! I'm terrible at taking compliments, but this really means so much to hear!

And since apparently these add to your longevity, please have another decade of life:

The waves continued to rise toward them as the tide returned and Balan leaned closer against the other. He had minimized the depth of his reaction in his earlier words. The sea terrified him. It was the same vast, unending expanse that he could not comprehend in the future of the Eldar. And like all those waiting years, the sea would not hesitate to swallow him whole—an indiscernible speck amid the breadth of many waters. The weight of it was unbearable. “Remember me,” he whispered hoarsely and gripped Finrod’s tunic through the water lest he be washed away, whether by time or water did not matter. Finrod took him in his arms and held him steady as the wave passed by. “Tenna Ambar-metta,” he said gently. “Till the end of all things.”

[fountainpenguin]

If you were given the opportunity to reboot FOP from the ground up, what would you change, shake up, or put your own spin on?

I'll have to give this a short answer, I no joke spent over 2 hours replying to this, then added a Read More and Tumblr told me that my post was too out of this world and it broke the editor. It kicked me out in a split second without any opportunity to save. Sorry to everyone who has to scroll past my stuff in the future, but I'm not living through this again. Read Mores have no place on my blog.

I'm furious because 1) I tried to copy-paste out of this editor like I always do and save in an external place, but the new editor is busted and only copies one paragraph when you do CTRL-A so I gave up, and 2) literally the last sentence I wrote before typing that was "Before my hiatus, Read Mores broke stuff, but I'm willing to give this another try." It's not even the same error it used to be. I can't. I can't.

At least we're friends and I think you know a lot of my thoughts anyway. Sorry it took so long to write an answer to this message, but I've already let it sit for so long that I HAVE to get it out of my inbox now or I'll never go back to it after losing everything :/ I can't believe that just happened. How ironic that one of the main reasons I went on hiatus was because stuff kept breaking and then it's worse when I return. Bleh.

So... Here's the short version of things I can remember talking about:

Update world lore, especially regarding Anti-Fairies. Anti-Fairies debuted in Season 2 and didn't reappear until Season 5; Anti-Fairy World itself made its first appearance in Season 6 because the Anti-Fairies were only seen in jail before that. Anti-Fairy World is kind of barren and stereotypical, and the general vibe of Anti-Fairies is that they are all evil because their magic revolves around bad luck. I'd prefer some gray area. I also feel like the characterizations for Anti-Cosmo and Anti-Wanda were rushed and we should say it.

Logically I know that Anti-Wanda can be said to parallel Wanda's high-class mafia upbringing, but I doubt that was planned since Wanda's family only showed up in Season 5. In another universe, we could have had a classy evil queen. I love the grubby gal, but there are so many cool aesthetics she could have had instead. The Anti-Cosmo and Anti-Wanda vibe doesn't bring anything to the table that Cosmo and Wanda didn't already have unless you take creative liberties.

Maps. Maps would have been great.

Designs. Cosmo, Crocker, and Dad really don't need the same shirt. Wanda's outfit is pretty bland too, and it's honestly a shame that Anti-Cosmo got a unique outfit but Anti-Wanda's is just a recolor of Wanda's. See also, classy queen.

Also I've never liked Timmy's Channel Chasers adult design; I just don't think it's in character. I feel like his body type would be much closer to his parents, and the existing one is just too extreme for my preferences. Doesn't say "Timmy the average kid" to me.

"Fairly Odd Baby" - As much as I enjoy the idea of Fairies placing a ban on babies because they're destructive and Fairy World likes to push away its problems, I'd have introduced Poof as part of an announcement that Cosmo and Wanda had been expecting a baby for 100 to 1000 years. Their lifespans are so long, it wouldn't be out of the question. A reveal episode could have been fun.

I also don't think I would have chosen to leave Poof a baby who can't speak for that long; I think he has a fun personality (Sasses Foop, deliberately puts Foop in harm's way, but also he's super chill and nice and likes sports) and I would have liked to see more episodes where he talks. I don't love how he was shipped to boarding school as soon as he was able to talk and dialogue was needed.

Vicky takes Mark back onscreen. She canonically decided she wanted to start dating him again, after she found out he was an alien and she broke up with him. She made the choice to take back her alien boyfriend and she loves him and we should talk about it. I'm obsessed with them and will forever treasure the deleted "Foul Balled" scene of them holding hands at the senior home while Mark is in his squid form. I support Vicky becoming the shapeshifting queen of a violent planet and being extremely in love with her squid husband.

Chloe / A.J. friendship. A.J. ended world hunger in Season 2 and he built a time machine a few seasons later, I feel like those two would have really hit it off.

More episodes of Timmy playing soccer. I will not re-elaborate.

More of side characters I love, like Molly and Kevin. I love them. I love Kevin falling farther and farther behind his uncle when they walk together, I love Timmy introducing himself to Molly's fairy by shaking her hand... They might be side characters but I feel like they add a lot more to the world and character dynamics in their few scenes than many of the characters do.

Sharing fairies. Timmy sharing fairies with Chloe (or Kevin) as part of a temporary program (like she was just here for one school year before her parents moved again). I think one of the issues people have with Chloe is that it feels like she's here for the rest of Timmy's fairy-related life, and I think a few months of hanging out with her would have been plenty and then there would have been a reason for her to leave the canon afterwards.

Make Chloe Dinkleberg's niece. My favorite headcanon. Also a perfect explanation for why Chloe's family would move to Timmy's street. Also a hilarious parallel of Timmy seething with frustration at his "perfect" neighbor despite spending the entire series making fun of his dad for doing the same thing.

More Timmy/Chloe "step-sibling" interactions. I support Timmy "I will sit with you while you have an hour-long panic attack" Turner in "The Booby Trap" but I cannot emphasize enough that I equally support Timmy "Will take a call from Chloe, listen to her explain that she vaporized a juice box, then hang up and go to bed" Turner. They are step-siblings...

Timmy, Chloe, and Kevin. I support Timmy - Chloe - Kevin trio interactions in general. They're a comedic trio and I want them to support each other.

Gary and Betty. Unironically, we need to talk more about Gary and Betty canonically being aware of the magical world. Or at least they adjusted really fast to being teleported from California to Florida and back again. Also we should talk about that time Gary rang Sanderson on his cell phone, which gets funnier the longer you think about it. Also I love them and we should talk about the deleted "Totally Spaced Out" scene where they tried to flee to Mexico together.

Ending the series with a proper send-off. I'm not a fan of Timmy keeping his magical memories after losing Cosmo and Wanda. Being the protagonist doesn't make him immune. I feel like there are so many ways this could have been done in a sentimental way that people would have loved... I'm sad we didn't get a proper send-off.

On the list of things we don't need to change - Imaginary Gary, Norm, Mark, Molly, Jorgen, the Pixies, Flappy Bob, Foop, and Ed Leadly. They are flawless, 10 of 10. We also do not need to change Chloe casually swearing, but meanwhile Timmy will call you out for saying "Moron" on the radio, and we definitely don't need to change "This isn't a fancy French restaurant- this is a black hole!"

I love the Pixies. If they didn't exist, I would have come along and prepped some worldbuilding about characters who maintain magical paperwork. I love my snarky monotone wasp boys.

Also I just want to shout-out Chloe and Kevin and their personalities being hilarious. I think there are several Chloe-centric episodes that have flawed storytelling, but I do genuinely enjoy the character you're left with after brushing off some of her exaggerated perfectionism.

Kevin has some of the best dialogue in the entire series, and those two just seem to write themselves when you pit them together. I like the mental image of Chloe venting to Timmy about how unfair it is that Crocker shows him favoritism and then it slowly dawns on her that she also has a history of getting a lot of favoritism.

Thanks for the ask! I'm sad I lost the full responses, but I think I've learned my lesson and will draft in an external doc first. Please learn from my mistakes, I will not take back my venting >:(

Even if I lost it, it's nice to take some time and think about some answers to these things. I'm also pretty satisfied that I was able to make this post long enough to feel like a good answer. Yay.

[supercimi]

Ahem to whoever this may concern this is not a writing post

It's ....my ..letter..it's a goodbye letter to one of our pets who passed away today

This might be weird to some people

But I didn't write this for anyone other than myself

So go away if you can't be bothered with this okay?

It's the second best way that I know how to sort my emotions or, better to say,'let them out'

Well, this was heavy to say, but I will be clear about what this is so that if anyone was curious for whatever reason, they know what's to be expected

Welp, here's your final sign to go back. If you don't want to know, okay?

Lovebirds are really wonderous creatures aren't they?

They love socializing and being in a group

But they are also very specific in regards to who they actually become familiar to

Maybe it's just you who's like that

In my language, your name translated to yellow, so whenever I spoke about you I'd do the thing Spanish speaker di and add a 'wa' at the end of your name so it became something like yellowa

But I honestly love your name in my language more than its translation

Maybe because it has grown on me for the past 8 years?

It would sound like this in English without a translation

Saffrona

I took a liking to nicknaming you rona as of late

I wonder if my voice showed how much I loved calling your names?...or how much I loved you..

Although even if you were still here, I don't think I'll ever get to know the answer to that

You didn't show how much you cared easily

I still remember when I brought ko after your first mate passed, how you were picking his head and kicking him out of your favourite perch

But don't think I didn't see you snuggling together a few weeks later >:3

rona rona

I will always miss you.

I will always love you.

I'm sorry I couldn't make this better for you.

I'm sorry I wasn't better for you

I wish I had more treats to give you

I wish I had more confidence and bravery to try and tame you

I know I did my best but it still breaks me to see you go away you know?

No matter how many times I part ways with such precious existences in my life

It never hurts less

It also never makes me want to stop caring for you all

Even if your lifespans are much shorter than mine, even if with every goodbye, my heart would be breaking again and again

I can never stop caring for you

Maybe I'm selfish maybe I'm troubling you

But I love you, even when you are gone I still love you

As sad as I am today and as painful to remember as it is

I wont forget your last memories of today

It is the first actual time you let me hold you and pet you you know? How could I ever forget that?

I don't regret caring for you nor for any of the others before you

I hope that our time together has been happy and peaceful for you

Despite the pain every Farewell brings and how helpless I feel each time

I'm thankful that our paths in life had crossed each other

Meeting you taught me about love, responsibility, and strength

I loved watching you live and getting to know your personality. You were a really proud birdy lady, you know that? Loving to sit on the highest perch and taking the occasional greens all to yourself especially the first few bites

Catering to your needs was by no means easy, especially in these last few weeks

But it's a responsibility I have grown to love if it meant your comfort, then I'll do my hardest to meet your needs

Even if you didn't let me hold you or pet you, I know you recognized me well enough to feel a little better by my existence

That's why I could be so strong in your goodbye, you know?

That's why I didn't cry or freeze

I wanted to be strong for you because you must have been so afraid and in a lot of pain

I hope I comforted you well...I won't deny that a part of me wished your meds worked or all those vet visits were made much earlier or anything and everything

But

It was your time to go, so go you did

And that's okay

Because now you aren't in pain anymore, are you?

I will be sad sometimes, but I will be better sometimes as well

And with time, I will remember you and smile more than I cry

Bye-bye, rona rona

I pray that those last few moments by my side were as peaceful to you as I felt they were

[melmodest]

THE ONE THING LEFT TO SAY

I'm gonna say something cliché,

but time flies too fast.

I'm yet to write about time

Through the prism of my eyes.

Am I really getting old?

I turned 26 just recently,

a quarter plus one of a hundred

a human presumably has in their store.

It’s been eight years now

Since my home became a blurry dot,

I found home in a new place

I was so reluctant to go before.

And, honestly,

I ain't bothered by numbers,

They’re just that – numbers,

but I am concerned about time

I have left to spend to love –

even hundred lifespans aren't enough

to love the world I've created

with the help of wonders befriended.

Time walks past and never minds

even one tiny peek at the past

like I do each time I sin,

opening the door for ennui to enter,

I've heard I'm a very good host,

not bad at guesting.

I confess I sin more often

even without my spirits sinking,

because my time is a little gold fish

has this tendency

to undermine my coiling bliss,

provoking my brain to make a remake

under a “Back to the Past” name,

forgetting the present is funnier.

Who am I to question the brain?

I do, btw.

I have lots of questions

for my brain to explain,

but the main one is always the same –

what beef does my brain have with chemistry?

Chemistry was my silver subject in school.

The gold was taken by literature.

I was awestruck, now I'm stuck

with this gnawing desire to write.

Silver would've suited me better than gold.

An apple doesn't fall far from the tree,

but physics makes me disagree,

too many factors affect the trajectory

of an apple rolling away from the tree.

Too many apple species

to make such blatant assumptions

brushing away the case history.

I'm said to have stretched the distance –

an old song I've been listening to

since the reins been held by my hands.

Drawing an opaque line,

they hold a loaded gun under my pillow,

ready to shoot whoever it is,

whatever it is

crawling stealthily to shake my ground.

Time has been very nice to me,

took an eraser stealing three years

of my youth. Not that I mind that much,

an amnesia proved to be alright,

pretty helping even,

my wounds got time to crust,

I got time to press the restart button,

go on a journey and start anew.

(I keep pressing the button.)

Thank you, time.

Very considerate of you.

Honestly speaking, I cherish time.

I see time as a frenemy I look up to,

but despise as well. As time passes

I get more and more flabbergasted

by its entrapping changing stream,

or is it me who's changing?

Who’s constantly shedding skin?

One day my hair may become grey,

wrinkles adorn my skin,

I may not be an agile night owl anymore,

but a morning lark

going to bed early before midnight,

or one day I may choose my fate myself –

forever young and beautiful sounds nice.

Sorry, I stole the spotlight,

I'm too self-immersed to veer off

letting time to show off.

Time is the main character here.

It took me a week to write these lines

to try and play a serenade to time.

In the end, the one thing left to say –

Thank you, time,

for letting me stay.

.

[rose-tinted-juls]

holy damn lover another MASTERPIECE is here!!! (yeah it took me an eternity to read it, i hate uni) honestly my lifespan expands by at least five years whenever i read about chris and charles.

1. "you're stuck with me now, boyfriend and all that" catch me SCREAMING why do i feel so emotional this is not normal

2. the way charles cooks breakfast and in the meantime keeps leaning over her shoulder to correct the padel video LOVE LOVE LOVE i can so imagine him like this fr + let's also mention the beauty of a line "i'm going to padel you upside the head" bc it's just perfect

3. chris correcting charles' english 😭 but in this cute and definitely not rude way 😭 and charles doesn't mind, not when it's her correcting him 😭

4. "hold your fire, find your english" I LOVE THIS lmao i'm so gonna use this the next time my sis and bro in law comes to visit (he's not from my country) there were so many instances when i could've used this in the past. i will now. thank you for blessing me with it.

5. "why did i not know this?" - "i don't know. why didn't you know that?" - "google said nothing about this." - "you googled me?!" - "you didn't google me? ...yeah, that's what i thought." THIS WHOLE DIALOGUE. i mean i still don't know why i'm fangirling over it so hard bc it seems sich a simple conversation. maybe it's the fact that it's chris and charles. but. i just do. love it.

6. chris blushing when charles casually implies that she'll visit many times. and the line "he doesn't have to take special care to include her in his life, he just does it - does it like he's always been doing it, always been sharing these small parts of his life with her." OMG this is what i live for. god when is it my turn??

7. the detail of charles bringing a napkin to his mouth so he can reply to her sooner SO REAL. these are the things that make this story feel like you're actually living through it

8. another detail that made me scream bc it's just REAL REAL, is when they're walking and chris moves a bit further away from him subconsciously and charles pulling her right back 😭😭 also, charles saying that she will ruin his first impression in the eyes of her family lmaoo

9. charles testing his knowledge of her family while she tries to finish her book 😭😭 so so so adorable! and "my perfect little angel" OMFG

10. let's not forget about charles worrying his ass off bc he doesn't want to ruin everything by making a stupid mistake and ruining her family's opinion and her own like come on 😭😭 this is so charles and you can't convince me otherwise

11. "she can't possibly understand it because he doesn't even properly understand it, the way he feels about her." poetic. truly poetic. 🫶🏼✨

12. charles trying to convince chris to go back to bed by pointing out how warm and soft it is AND then them running around. his reaction time (obvs), the way he catches her with a strong grip AND how he carries her back to bed. *chefs kiss*

13. well. the smut. let's just say that i loved it. & "never apologise for that" !!!!! jesus bloody hell. and now let me not continue bc then i'll be burned for the things i'd write

14. him mumbling in french (already dying bc that's the best thing ever) and her asking him if he's talking trash about her. yes. <33

15. that final phone call. already the fact that he wanted her to call asap when she gets home. and then the call itself. charles being a child about the hickey, them terribly trying to overcome the language barriers, and then the "thank you for calling me." - "thank you for wanting me to call." i'm dead. this must be heaven.

oh mack you did it. once again. as you always do. you make me scream, giggle, cry, smile, stop breathing, throw my phone away. i adore this story, i adore your mind for coming up with it and then creating this masterpiece with all these gorgeous words, and i adore you. <333

miss americana & the heartbreak prince

—05. Monte Carlo Ave. —word count: 9.3k —warnings: obvious implications of sex, no smut. club activities, so much fluff you'd wish you were dead. angst in the middle. love, mackie... so, just like chapter 4, there is a nsfw cut of this chapter whose link is embedded in the post. all nsfw warnings will be on that post. thank you for bearing with me while I took my sweet ass time writing this next part--there is no exaggerating how busy my life has become in the past couple months.

He wakes up at five-thirty-seven in the morning, exactly twenty-three minutes before his alarm is set to go off. Charles can’t remember the last time he was awake before his alarm, or the last time his alarm at home was set to go off before the sun rose. 

It was fear that woke him up—fear of waking her up. 

Her. Chris. His girlfriend, who is sound asleep next to him, in his bed, in his apartment, in his city. 

She’s a cute sleeper, he knew—he knew, because she’d fallen asleep on FaceTime calls half a dozen times, because he’d watched her for a nearly creepily amount of time in Abu Dhabi, when he couldn’t believe she was actually there. She’s a cute sleeper, and yet, the shine hasn’t worn off yet, because he still watches. 

She’d gone to bed in a hoodie from work and no pants, because, of course she had. Of course she had. She’s got one hand awkwardly craned under her pillow and another wrapped up in the comforter like it’s a finger trap, and her hair is messy, so messy and half-stuck to her cheek. It’s fucking adorable, and he feels so lucky. 

He gets nervous then, nervous that she’s going to wake up and he’s going to be staring and it’s going to be weird, so. Instead of continuing to ogle, he reaches for his phone from the nightstand, turns the volume all the way down and scrolls through social media pretending not to steal a glance every time she takes a deep breath or moves a muscle. 

It’s half an hour before she yawns awake, and he’s relieved that he doesn’t have to wake her up, after all. 

“Morning,” he says, clicks the power button on his phone and lets it fall face down on his chest. 

Chris smiles. “Morning,” she breathes, and leans over to kiss him. 

“Mmm,” he hums, pushes his index finger against her lips. “What happened to morning breath?” He asks. 

“Nope,” she speaks against his finger, threatens to bite it. He knows he wouldn’t stop her, but moves his finger anyway to kiss her properly, to let her smile out of it. “You’re stuck with me now, boyfriend and all that.”

“Gross,” he smiles. “I love it.”

She flops back against the mattress with a laugh, “What time is it?” she asks, leaning over to reach for her own phone. 

“Six,” he hums. She scowls at her lock screen. “We have plans at seven.”

“Oh?” She peruses, sits up to stretch properly, to yawn again and ruffle her hair and God, she is so beautiful. He might never get over it. 

“Padel…” he smiles, wonders if he’s about to get in trouble, to start their first fight as a couple at six in the morning on a Tuesday. He probably should have run this past her, he thinks, run all of it past her. He’d just gotten so caught up in the planning of it all. “...with my brothers.”

Her hands flop from her hair onto the comforter, landing with a soft thud on the padded fabric. When she looks at him, she’s still smiling, but her eyes are tired, confused. “Baby, what is padel?”

– – –

They cook breakfast together—well, Charles cooks breakfast. Chris spends the entire time leaning against the kitchen counter cradling her phone, watching a YouTube video on the basis of padel playing. Charles keeps leaning over her shoulder, plastic spatula in hand, and correcting the man in the video. That’s not what you do, he hums. They don’t know what they’re talking about. 

After the fifth comment in as many minutes, she turns to him with a chill-inducing glare. “I’m going to padel you upside the head,” she says, with a smile on her face—which only makes it that much more terrifying. He nods, steps back from her shoulder and returns to the crepes he’s butchering on the stovetop. 

– – –

“I have to know,” she asks, sat on the floor in the bedroom, in the limited space at the end of the bed, tying her shoes. “What was the plan if I didn’t pack workout clothes?”

“Eh,” he mutters, rifling through the hangers of sweatshirts hanging in his closet. “I would have put on you some of my clothes,” he continues, pulls his two best options down from the hangers and holds them up for her. One, a blue Ferrari crewneck. The other, gray, from his friend’s line. 

“You would have put me in your clothes,” she corrects his English, and if it was anyone else he’d find it insufferable. But he doesn’t, not with her, so he chuckles and his smile grows and he can feel his dimples. For the dramatics, though, he rolls his eyes. 

“Which one?” He asks, taking turns raising the two sweatshirts. 

“As tempting as the team kit is,” she laughs, and he tosses the gray one to her. He could have guessed the gray one, he thinks, but she’s surprised him more than once before. “Thank you,” she hums, pulling it over her head and carefully fixing the wisps of hair that fall from her tonytail when she does it. 

“Always,” he nods, holds a hand out to pull her to her feet.

– – –

Arthur and Lorenzo are already at the court when Chris and Charles arrive, attempting—and failing—to play a round of singles padel on the doubles court Chalres had reserved for the morning.

Just as they approach, a shot ricochets off of Arthur’s racquet and flies past Lorenzo, colliding with the glass wall behind him with a thud. Lorenzo jogs after the ball, laughing, pointing at his brother in a sore act of celebration. 

Arthur is just as sore a loser. “Ah!” He calls out, gesturing with his own racquet to the tape that runs along the top of the net. “Filet!” Net!

Lorenzo blows air from his cheeks and scoffs, firmly bouncing the ball against the ground a few times before picking it up properly. “S'il te plaît!” Please!

“Mon pote, allez,” Mate, come on, Arthur groans. “Ça tremble encore!” It’s still shaking!

“Arthur, j'étais à trois mètres,” I was three meters away. 

Charles grins, pulls open the door to the court, holding it open for Chris to step in front of him. “Retiens ton feu,” hold your fire, he calls out to his brothers, “trouve ton anglais,” find your English.

Both boys' heads shoot over, scowls still apparent. “Do you see this? Do you see him run into this net?” Arthur shouts, still gesturing wildly with his racquet. 

“Do not let him convince you, you know what you saw,” Lorenzo interjects, carries on even though the game has been abandoned and they instead jog over to greet Chris and Charles. Lorenzo is first over, kissing either of Charles’ cheeks. “You saw this?” He asks, and Charles laughs, nods. 

“I did.”

“Bullshit,” he laughs, shoves Charles’ shoulder and turns to greet Chris. “You?”

Charles expects to find some apprehension on Chris’ face, something that shows she’s not sure of her place yet, but he doesn’t find any. Confidently, she speaks, “He’s crazy, you weren’t even close,” and then kisses each cheek. 

Lorenzo tosses his arm around Chris with a laugh. “Charles,” he speaks, points to her with the same hand that’s thrown over her shoulder. “My team.”

Charles chuckles. “I try not to make a habit of telling my girlfriend what to do.” Chris blushes at the very mention of it—girlfriend. If he knew it would be that easy to make her blush he would’ve asked weeks ago. He might’ve asked in Austin, if he’s being completely honest with himself. 

“Oh-ho?” Arthur’s already teasing, clapping his hands on Charles’ shoulders and laughing like a madman. “Girlfriend, huh?”

Neither of them—Chris or Charles, say anything. Between the flush of her cheeks and the depth of his dimples, they might as well have it spray painted on their foreheads. “Right,” Lorenzo offers, “well, Chris, as the only person around here with some sense, you’re on my team.”

“You can have her,” Charles teases, Lorenzo quirks a brow. “She has no idea how to play, but also she is a rule master.”

“Abandoning your own girlfriend,” Chris interjects, the same teasing tone laced in her voice. She pretends to shiver, grand and dramatic, even though it’s eighteen degrees and sunny and she’s got long pants and a sweatshirt—his sweatshirt on. “It’s cold, man.”

He rolls his eyes, sticks a racquet in her hand and moves to kiss her, which is more than close enough to Lorenzo for him to abandon his position next to Chris, retreating to the safety of the court, bouncing the padel ball as he walks. “Ready to take us?” Charles asks quietly, just to her. Arthur is somewhere in the space behind him gulping a water bottle in an almost comical manner. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she replies, half-chuckled, demeanor light and bouncy. There’s something about her that always seems full of energy, ready to take on whatever is put in front of her head-on.

“Don’t worry,” he practically whispers, winks and gives her shoulder a soft squeeze. “I’ll go easy on you.”

Chris clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, feigns offense and scoffs loudly, bringing the head of the racquet up to the center of his chest, pushing him back a few steps. “Don’t you dare.”

He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him, offering—practically promising—to let someone else win. There’s still a basket somewhere in a storage closet full of broken video game controllers from his childhood. And once, for three entire weeks when they were six and nine, he and Arthur weren’t allowed at the dinner table together because they would race to finish their food and promptly get sick. Then again, it is Chris, all bouncy ponytail and quick wit in his home in his clothes, so. Maybe it isn’t as far-fetched as it seems. 

As expected, it becomes apparent quickly that Chris is a beginner at a game the boys have spent years playing. She misses shots and struggles to find her footing and the best positioning, but it doesn’t crush her mood, dampen her energy. Lorenzo—her teammate, takes on quite a coaching role, offers an equal amount of encouragement and advice. 

She’s a quick learner, though. Charles knew she would be. So, despite the sound loss she and Lorenzo take in the first game, she manages a decent amount of solid shots and a spattering of genuinely impressive ones. She’s quick, that’s her advantage. She might not know what to do when she gets to the ball, but she always gets there. And, when she scores her first point, actually jumps into the air when she gives Lorenzo a high-five, he can’t help but find himself soft, a smile tugging on his lips, holding back on the points that follow in hopes of seeing her goofy grin again. 

“You did quite well out there,” he tells her when they’re between games. Her eyes light up and she hums around a mouthful of water, hurries to swallow it before she laughs. 

“Really?” She coughs, clears her throat. “You think?”

He nods. “You’re quick,” he mutters before taking a drink of his own water. 

“I ran track in high school.” He quirks a brow, which makes her smile, which makes him choke on a laugh mid-swallow. You’d think neither of them had ever had a drink from a plastic water bottle before. 

“Really?” She nods, hums her response, toying with her ponytail. Her bangs are loose, untucked from her ears and her hair-tie, and he feels the overwhelming urge to brush it from her face. “Why did I not know this?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “Why didn’t you know that?”

“Google said nothing about this.”

“You Googled me?!” Briefly. Briefly, he had googled her at the very beginning of it all. Really, it was more Googling her family than it was her, they are the ones with all the information out there. He needed to make sure he wasn’t starting something with a raging white supremacist or a murderer. 

“You didn’t Google me?” She scratches the back of her head, not-so discreetly looks anywhere but her. “Yeah,” he laughs. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

With a playful eye roll, she promptly changes the subject: “you want to be on my team?”

“I…” he laughs, “...don’t know if we are there yet.”

“Oh,” She laughs, brows raised with a goofy smile and it’s official—her laugh is never going to not give him butterflies, never not going to be so much better in person. “The truth comes out.”

Chris is soundly defeated in three straight games, despite finding herself with a new teammate each round—first Lorenzo, then Arhur, and finally, after five minutes of her best puppy-dog eyes, the most competitive man alive ( her boyfriend) agreed to be her teammate. 

It’s hours later by the time they leave the country club—no, no, Charles said it was specifically a padel club. They part ways with his brothers and then they’re driving back through the winding streets to his apartment. She ogles, like she’s been doing since she got here, all the careful, intricate architecture and the perfectly manicured manner of the whole place. It’s like people don’t live here, like she’s in a made-up land. She latches onto every imperfection—a crack in the sidewalk, a shrub with a single projection, a half-ragged French flag on the stern of a super yacht. It makes it all feel human, lived in, like the place someone can grow up, the place he grew up. 

After two hurried showers and a change of clothes they set off for lunch at Charles’ self-proclaimed “favorite restaurant.” It’s a sushi place, which she finds interesting, because not once has she heard him talk about sushi when talking about his favorite foods. 

Charles parks in a garage that’s a fifteen minute walk from the restaurant because, as he puts it, she’s walking the streets with the nation’s best tour guide. He starts the tour with the middle three corners of the Grand Prix, in reverse order—the hairpin, mirabeau bas, and portier, and then they take the quarter-or-so mile walk to the first of many monuments that Chris wouldn’t even attempt to pronounce in her own head. It’s there, somewhere between the forced tourist photos he snaps of her at Le Pêcheur and the one at the Promenade Princesse Louise-Hyppolyte, the truth comes to light. 

“What do you mean you did not tell anyone you were here?!” He exclaims all dramatic-like, dropping the phone from in front of his face, abandoning the search for what he considers the perfect angle. “You left the country, Chris.” She shrugs, doesn’t really see the big deal in all of it. It’s not like she… no, it is like she purposely didn’t tell people. That’s exactly what it is, actually. 

“I thought we were keeping this on the down-low.”

“Not that low!” He scolds, but she can tell he wants to laugh. He should, she thinks. It’s funny. “What if you die?”

She rolls her eyes. “Are you planning on killing me?” He glares daggers, burns a you’re not funny look into her head. “Letting me be killed?” She’s sure it annoys him to no end, positive almost, but it’s not like she can go back in time and tell everyone, and even if she could, she’s not sure she would. She likes this being just theirs, at least for now, while they can still manage it. She likes not having to report back to her parents—to her dad, especially—about her hotshot, young punk racing driver of a boyfriend and the silver spoon he feeds her french delicacies with. 

He sighs, shoulders wildly heavy, and holds her phone back out to her. His eyes are soft, frustrated in a way she didn’t expect them to be. She really didn’t think it was that crazy of a decision. “You should have told someone,” he says, and she feels immensely guilty. 

“Hannah knows,” she blurts, an honest offer of anything she has to not get such a serious look from him. He’s not meant to be serious.

“Hannah knows?”

“She knows I went somewhere. I didn’t tell her where,” she says.  I didn’t tell her where because my brother and father don’t want me to date a race driver, she doesn’t say, because that would only make him more nervous. 

“You should have told someone you were here,” he says, drags out the vowel sounds and tosses an arm over her shoulder. He kisses her temple, pulls her into him and chuckles. Okay, okay. He’s not actually upset.

“Probably,” she nods, a smile pulling on the corners of her lips. “I can tell them when I get home, if you want. Start some drama over Thanksgiving dinner.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure making a good impression will not be hard after that.”

MayaBay, that’s the name of his favorite restaurant, Thai and Japanese and a sushi bar that Charles talks about for the entire walk there. Apparently securing a reservation at the restaurant was hard enough, but a seat at the coveted sushi bar was something else entirely, and, according to Charles, was his first failed call after Chris’ visit was planned. She tries to tell him that it doesn’t matter where in the restaurant they eat, but he’s insistent that he’s going to try again and again, and again every time she comes to visit until he can manage to get them in. 

Her cheeks flush red at the revelation and she continues to hold out hope he’s oblivious to the heat that radiates from her face every time he meets her with some sort of compliment or insistence of inclusion. She doesn’t even think he’s conscious of the latter, which makes it all that more special. He doesn’t have to take special care to include her in his life, he just does it—does it like he’s always been doing it, always been sharing these small parts of his life with her. 

Lunch is enough to leave her full for the entire day. Po Pia Kung and Ceviche and Roti and Nigiri—two plates, no wasabi, per Charles’s request—and she’s worried that she’ll be full before getting the chance to lay eyes on their entrees. 

“This place is so special,” she tells him from across the tiny table, around the too-big centerpiece. “Thank you.”

He hums around a mouthful of Roti, brings a napkin to his mouth when he swallows so he can start talking that little bit sooner. “For what?”

Chris shrugs. Thank you… for. For. For everything, she supposes. “For wanting me here.”

He smiles, dimples digging deep, cheeks turning a rosy shade of pink when he adjusts in his seat, leans forward enough that it’s just barely perceivable. “Thank you for wanting to be here,” and you blush right back. 

It’s got to be quite the sight for any onlookers, the two of them acting all middle-school. They aren’t aware enough of the other people in the restaurant for it to be of note, and even if they were, they wouldn’t care. 

It’s Pad Thai for the main course with a side of three bites of Charles’ Kadou Yang stolen in the midst of quiet conversation, and then, as if they haven’t shared everything else already, they split the restaurant’s signature, meant to share dessert. 

“So,” he hums, somewhere on the walk back to the car—or, to the surprise Charles refuses to reveal that’s on the way back to the car. He swings their interlocked hands between their body, drags the action out in the same way he does the vowel. “When do I get to come to Georgia?”

It takes her by surprise, puts a kiddish smile on her face. It should be obvious that he would want to come, because, well, it’s where she lives. But, every conversation has always been about her coming to him. And it makes sense to her, because he’s always moving and she’s always in the same place. It makes sense that he wouldn’t come to her, but now that she thinks about it, it makes more sense that he would. “You want to come to Georgia?”

“That,” he laughs, “that is a silly question. Of course I want to.”

“Well, I mean. You’re always welcome, but I don’t know what your schedule looks like.” She knows it’s a mess, undoubtedly, even if she’s never laid eyes on it. She can only imagine the amount of people wanting him in places year round, and having all of that squished into a couple month period of time? She wouldn’t be surprised if he spends more time traveling in the offseason than he does when he’s actually racing. 

“I don’t know what it looks like, either,” he takes out his phone and clicks through half a dozen apps with his free hand—the one not intertwined with hers. “Uh…,” he chuckles at the screen like even he can’t believe just how in demand he is. “Next month I’m in Italy for some days, then France for Christmas and London for New Year.” Chris leans over to look at his calendar. 

“What about there?” She asks,  pointing to the block of dates that are empty between his color-coded trips to Italy and France. “My brother’s wedding is that weekend,” she says, and then realizes how crazy the proposition sounds and instantly attempts to retract it, “but you probably don’t want to go to that.”

She’d love more than anything to have him at Chase and Hannah’s wedding, but she can understand why he would want to do anything else. It’s one thing to make him travel all that way, but then to make him travel all that way for a wedding, where he’ll have to meet the parents and the siblings and dog—that’s just a cruel thing to imply is expected of him. It’s certainly no way to keep him wanting to come back for another visit. 

He bumps his shoulder against hers. “I love weddings.”

“Yeah?” She bumps back, dumb little smile on her face. “When you don’t know anyone there and your girlfriend is in the bridal party?”

He nods. “Yes.”

Unconsciously, she puts distance between their arms, to keep from getting too hot or to keep them from tripping or maybe for no reason at all because she really doesn’t notice that she does it. “My whole family’ll be there,” she continues meekly, and their arms are almost taught. 

“Good,” Charles scoffs, and pulls her right back to his side, like even an arm’s length is too far.  “I can fix the first impression you’re going to break.”

Chris rolls her eyes, both at his words and his actions—painfully endeared by both.  “Why are you so convinced I’m going to have something bad to say about you?”

“I’m not worried really about what you say, but your father is not going to like me if you say to him, ‘this is my boyfriend who I saw in two different countries without telling to you.’”

“Yeah,” she nods, bites back a laugh against the skin on the inside of her cheek. It shouldn’t be as funny as it is to her; the state of her life. “Yeah, you definitely have a point there,” she cuts the vowel short, chokes on a laugh, sucks in her own lips in an attempt to keep them from spilling, the laugh escaping silently through her nose. He meets her with a matching—no, a somehow dramatized mirroring—of her expression that only makes it that much harder not to laugh. When she finally does break, there are practically tears in her eyes, and it was never even that funny. 

He smiles at her laugh, like always, and shakes his head. “I will have to come to this wedding to do damage control.” 

“Probably,” she nods, still laughing. It’s like it’s all just sunk in for her—the boyfriend. The long distance boyfriend, as in, long distance. Whatever everyone else considers long distance, times the distance of the Atlantic Ocean and the average net worth of his hometown. The fact that he was a stranger just a few months ago, and now she’s in her second foreign country in three days with him and it all feels so normal. The fact that she didn’t even want to go on that Hot Lap—hot laps, plural— or that she didn’t have any interest in going to the race. If she’d tried just a little bit harder to get out of it, or stayed in the beer tent for just ten minutes longer or, or, or. It’s not funny at all, and yet it’s hilarious. 

“You’re ridiculous, you know this?”

“I know this.” She sighs, deep and slow and grounding, one stray chuckle slipping through her lips before she can continue. “Don’t book any flights, then—Until I make sure it’s all good with Hannah.”

“Yes ma’am,” he says, salutes her with his phone still in his hand and everything.

“Okay, so,” Charles sighs, drops his head against the pillow with a soft plop. Lunch was hours ago, now, succeeded by a walk around the Japanese Gardens, a trip to the supermarket because his fridge is, as Chris so affectionately referred to it as—bachelor pad chic—and a personal tour around the Prince’s Car Collection where he got to show off his favorite memories. It’s after dinner, even. After half-stale pasta made by him and meal-saving chicken expertly prepared by her, after two episodes of a French reality show with English closed captioning, after a day he won’t soon forget. It’s then, in bed, while she reads the final pages of the book she’s been cutting away at for weeks now, that he tests his knowledge on the information he’s been quizzing her for afternoon. “Chandler is the oldest, and she’s dating Alexis.”

“Correct,” Chris says, turns the page on her book. 

“But the drama is that Alexis doesn’t like any of your family, so she and your sister moved away and don’t come to anything.” She hums her response this time, and he wonders if she’s even listening all that much or if he could get her to agree to anything right now. “And then Chase is in the middle, he’s marrying Hannah. But the drama is Hannah was—” before he can even get the next word out, she’s glancing over at him to interject. “Hannah is your best friend, and was before Chase dated her. And she has a little boy named Reid with a dickhead.”

“Yup.”

“And then you, my perfect little angel.”

She smiles at the pages of her book. He likes making her smile. “Don’t forget it.”

“Your parents are Bill and Cindy, short for… William and,” he pauses. She pauses. He has no idea what Cindy is short for. “Lucinda?” Chris blinks, hard, dog ears the corner of her page and shuts her book. If he didn’t already know it was a pretty shit guess, he sure knows it now. Sometimes a blink is worth a thousand and one words. 

“No,” she says, furrows her brows so subtly that it shouldn’t be recognizable, but it is. And then she blinks again. 

“I knew that,” he boasts, his best cocky tone and a matching smug expression on his face. “I was just testing you.”

She chuckles, leans to her right to set the book down on the bed-side table there. “On my own mother’s name?” She questions, tucking herself under the covers and scooching over, leaning against his chest comfortably. He would let her lie like this as long as she wanted. It’s so sweet to have her in his arms.

“Well, you call her ‘Mom,’” he explains, even down to the forced American accent when he says ‘Mom.’ “So maybe you did not know.”

“Cindy isn’t short for anything.”

“Like I said,” he twists her hair around his finger slowly, mindlessly, without any sort of purpose or intention. When she uses him like a pillow this way, he can always smell her shampoo. He’s been trying to place it for days now. Coconut, he knows—but there is something else there, too, something he can’t put his finger on.  “I know this.”

“Okay, continue then.”

“I will,” he says, lets the twirled hair fall from his finger and kisses her head with a smile on his face. “They have a dog called Beans that you call Beanie-Baby,” he pauses. “And the drama is, your parents do not like me.”

He can see the apples of her cheeks flare in his peripheral, a laugh stirring in her chest. “The drama is: there is no drama with them,” she says. “They’re all bark no bite.”

He adjusts underneath her, sighs all heavy and deflated because the thought of it—her family, her parents. It’s so fucking intimidating, it is. Because he knows how important they are to her, how highly she regards their opinion, even if she pretends that she doesn’t. He knows that it’s everything to her, and if he makes even a single mis-step he could ruin it all—their opinion, her opinion, all of it. And something in his gut, a pit in his stomach tells him that she’s already made a mis-step for him when she came over here without telling anyone she was coming. Why wouldn’t she tell anyone she was coming? “What do I even talk to them about?”

“I don’t know,” she says, adjusts to accommodate his adjustment, and eventually they’ll get properly comfortable. “Racing.”

“We race in different cars.”

“But it’s all cars.”

He opens his mouth to speak, pauses, clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and then finally, “it’s different.”

“I think you’re overreacting a bit, here,” she says, and he rolls his eyes. He’s not overreacting, she’s underreacting. “I get along with your Mom and your brothers and I don't know what anyone is saying half of the time.” Okay, okay, maybe she has a point there. He did kind of throw her to the wolves this week—not that his family are wolves, just. Meeting the parents before the relationship is even a relationship is. It’s just messed up for him to do, and she’d handled it gracefully, perfectly and flawlessly charmed everyone. 

But then again. “Yeah, but you’re you.” Anyone would be charmed by her. She’s very charming. 

“And you’re you.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t understand.” She can’t possibly understand it because he doesn’t even properly understand it, the way he feels about her. The fear he feels about losing all the indecipherable feelings. It’s just good, everything about her, about being near her. It’s all so sweet and nice and good and he really, really doesn’t want to screw it up.

“You’ve already met my Dad,” she starts, clearly trying to calm him down, to ease his nerves. “My brother is just like him but more annoying,” she laughs, and even though he’s half deflated, her laugh still puts a weak smile on his face. “My sister probably won’t speak to you, and my Mom loves anyone that calls her ma’am and tells her she looks young. Just don’t talk about racing with her.”

“You just told me—”

“With the boys,” Chris clarifies.

“Your Mum doesn’t like Chase racing?”

“Does yours?” Good point. Is there a mother on the face of the planet, over all of history, that loved the idea of their kid racing other kids around high speed corners without any regard for their own lives?

“Then why did she let him?”

“I’m sure the same reason yours let you. Dad’s can be very convincing.”

His stomach drops. “Yeah. Yeah, they can be. My dad was.” His fingers trace mindless circles on the skin of her arm, soft and warm and clean. His eyes focus on the little red light on the bottom of his television, the one that’s only on when the TV is off. “He would spend so much time at the karting track with my brothers and I, you would not believe it. Sometimes my Mum would say that we lived there and should take blankets to sleep in the karts,” He says, and Chris laughs, makes him aware of his tracing fingers, but doesn’t stop them. “She would always say to us, ‘be careful, drive slow,’ and my Dad would always say ‘be careful, have fun.’ Now Mum will say to us just to be careful.”

“Did your Dad drop the ‘have fun,’ too?”

Red Light. Soft skin. He knew it was coming, it’s always coming, only a matter of time before he had to tell her. Honestly, he’s surprised it had gone this long, that she hadn’t asked about his father the moment she met the rest of the family and he was absent. He can’t stomach the look of pity she’ll give him. She can take it from everyone else, always had—but the image of that look on her face, the dead dad look. He never wants her to look at him like that. 

Red light. Stupid shapes. “No, uh,” he drags out his own words, putting off the inevitable by even a few more moments. “My father died when I was a teenager.” 

At least he knows her google search of him months earlier wasn’t too in-depth. “Oh my God, Charles,” She says, voice quiet and soft, like she thinks her words will break him. They won’t. He wishes she knew they won’t. 

“No,” he chuckles, kisses the top of her head. “No. Don’t look at me like that,”

“I’m not,” she protests, but he doesn’t have to look at her to confirm. Nobody is above the look of pity. 

“You are.”

“You’re not even looking at me,” she says, sits up off his chest. He keeps his eyes on the red light. “Look at me,” she insists, a soft hand on his jaw, pulling him back to her. 

He rolls his eyes before he looks, before there’s an eternity of silent eye contact because she doesn’t have the look on her face. Anyone can tell she feels bad, especially him, but it’s different. It’s different, and he doesn’t feel like some pathetic puppy in a cold corner. He doesn’t feel like a nineteen year old who’s world is in shambles. He just feels like him. Like it’s all okay. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t know,” she finally speaks, and he hears it now. She doesn’t think he’s going to break, that’s now why she’s meek. She feels guilty, guilty that she brought it up, that she didn’t know, that he thinks she would ever think he would break.

“How would you?”

Sincere in her apology, in her guilt, she doubles down. “I’m still sorry.”

Her eyes are filled with something pure, some innocent kind of affection and he feels awful that she feels awful. “I’m sorry for going on about him.”

“I’ll listen as long as you want to talk.”

He smiles, a genuine laugh falling from his lips. “I can talk forever.”

“Then,” she smiles, leans over to kiss him before getting comfortable again, snuggling into his chest like before. “Tell me all about him.”

They sleep late the next morning. Maybe they’re adjusting to the timezone—unlikely, especially in Chris’ case—or they were just up to late talking, but Chris is stretching against the sheets, against Charles, just after nine.

It’s no surprise that she wakes up tangled in a mess of limbs, not even something she minds. Even with her hand asleep and painfully tingley. She knows that she won’t get to wake up like this tomorrow morning, or the morning after, or every morning for at least a month, so. She doesn’t mind the heat and the sleeping limbs and the threat of a knot in her shoulder. 

She wiggles out from his grip without waking him, grabs her phone from the bedside table and checks the time. She scans the room, eyes floating over all of her things scattered about. She should start packing up, she thinks. Start packing and getting ready to leave. 

She tiptoes across the room, around the corner into the bathroom to start there, far away from his sleeping body. Quietly, carefully, she brushes her teeth, washes her face and tugs a brush through her hair, tying it back into a ponytail. Slowly, she gathers her stuff—makeup and hair tools and skincare—and packs it away carefully into her toiletries bag. 

When she comes back into the bedroom, still cringing with every creak of the floor under her feet, she finds Charles awake in bed, soft, sleepy smile when she turns the corner. “Come back to bed,” he’s pleading before she can even mutter a good morning. 

“I have to pack,” she argues half-heartedly, because she wants nothing more than to climb back into bed, and his voice is no help—all hoarse and raspy with sleep. 

“Why?” He asks, drags the letter sounds out into a yawn that makes her smile. 

“Because,” she says, draws out the e-sound to tease his cadence. “It’s almost nine-thirty, and I'm leaving in two hours.”

“You don’t have two hours of stuff,” he protests. 

“I don’t like to be late,” she continues over her shoulder, opening her suitcase and laying it flat on the floor at the end of the bed, readjusting the still-folded clothes she hadn’t ended up wearing. 

“Well,” he says, stretches against his sheets and then he’s getting out of bed with another yawn. “Let me help you, then.”

He steps around her open suitcase carefully. There isn’t exactly a surplus of floorspace for him to find his footing in. He disappears into the bathroom, locks the door behind him while she continues to gather her things, reappearing ten minutes later. “Give me a kiss,” he says, trudging over to her with open arms. 

“You’re so needy this morning,” she quips, slinking her arms around his neck and pulling him down into a kiss. He hums against her lips in agreement and the vibration makes her giggle into his mouth. 

Chris makes an attempt to return to the task at hand, but he has different plans, and follows around right behind her. His arms wrap around her torso everytime she stills for even a moment and he hugs her from behind, kisses her shoulders and her neck and her hair. 

“You make it hard to pack,” she tells him, and he laughs into the crook of her neck. What she really means is: you make it hard to leave. 

“Come back to bed.”

“I want to,” she sighs, leans back against his body.

He turns with her so they’re facing the bed. “It is right there,” he says, and she groans. “Look at it, all warm and comfy.” He’s right, the sheets look so soft, the pillows so fluffed. It’s a bed begging to be slept in, to be lounged on, to be snuggled by. 

She wiggles from his grasp, backs away from him towards the door and makes a challenge that she knows she has no intention of winning; “We can go back to bed,” she starts, still inching further away from him, further away from the bed, “if you can catch me,” and then she bolts. 

Chris’ high school claim to fame might have been that she was an all-state track and field athlete, but she’s got nothing on her boyfriend, who’s made a career out of his reflexes. It’s all pants and squeals and laughs that go on for entirely too long. 

She realizes that she’s trapped when they’re stood on opposite sides of his dining room table, and she couldn’t be the least bit bothered. She tries to fake him out, to move left and then right, but he predicts the move before she even makes it, catches her with a strong grip around her waist and lifts  her off her feet, carries her into the bedroom and tackles her onto the bed. 

click here for the nsfw cut

Chris’ flight leaves Nice at 12:30 pm, and then it’s a two and a half hour layover in Amsterdam, until finally, she lands in Atlanta long after sunset. She Ubers home and by the time she’s flopping down onto her couch, it’s almost eleven. Charles is the only call she makes before crashing. Then again, who else would she call? He’s one of two people who knew she was anywhere but home, and the only one who’d made her promise to call—despite the time difference and the Uber delay—with the threat of calling the first Georgia police number he could find on google to report her missing. 

He answers on the third ring, voice with the same rasp of that morning. “Hello?”

“Hi,” she speaks through a yawn, lays the phone beside her ear on the couch cushion and leaving it on speaker. 

“Hey,” he laughs, and she can perfectly hear the smile on his lips. She can almost feel it, the way the room reacts to it. 

“You gave me a hickey,” she says, fingering the bruise that lies an inch above her collarbone. His giggle on the other end is loud and boyish—particularly teenager-ish. 

“So, you made it home safe?”

“Well, if you ignore the vampire bruise on my neck.”

“Sorry,” he says, but he’s still laughing like a little kid. 

“It’s not funny,” she warns, thinly veiled because even she can hear the tired laugh at the back of her throat. 

“It’s a little funny.”

Chris rolls her eyes. “I have to see my entire family tomorrow!”

“Eh,” he hums, and just like the smile, she can see the shrug. She can see him so well it’s like he’s here or she’s there or that they’re somewhere together. Somewhere that doesn’t really matter, because they’re both there, smiling and laughing and shrugging. God. God, she already misses him so much. “They already don’t like me.”

“Charles!” She scolds, but she’s laughing now, too.

“I’m sorry,” he smooths. “I am. I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“I know,” Chris sighs, pokes her own neck. “I’m not upset, I’ll just have to whisk it all morning.”

He chuckles. “You have to do what?” 

“You know, like. For eggs…or baking. A whisk,” with every word that leaves her mouth, another letter is types into her phone’s search bar. Google Translate: whisk.  “Le fouet?”

“Le fouet??” He questions with a tone that would make her think she’d called him a slur. “I do not think that is right.”

“Le fouet à…” she trails off, debating internally over the pronunciation of the words in front of her. “How do you say the ‘o’ and the ‘e’ when they’re together?” She asks, butchers it before he has the chance to give her any answer. “Œufs?”

“I have no idea what you are telling to me.”

“Telling you,” Chris corrects. “What I’m telling you.”

“Oh, mon dieu,” he groans. “This is sad. We can talk in the morning.”

“Okay,” she nods, yawns again. It’s long past her bedtime, and she has no idea how many hours now she’s been awake for. It’s gotta be going on twenty or more, surely. Surely. 

“Thank you for calling me,” he says, softly, genuinely grateful for the call. She’s grateful he’s grateful. It’s sweet, all the little things he does to show he cares. The way he does most of them without realizing it. 

“Thank you for wanting me to call.”

last chapter masterlist next chapter

[sensibledecay]

i’ve been ravaging my fingernails, my cuticles, and the skin on my fingers since before i can remember. as a child, my mother yelled at me and begged me and punished me to try and kick this habit. for a couple months in elementary school, she painted my fingernails twice a week as incentive not to pick. the iridescent purple flakes looked prettier strewn across my bedroom carpet. she took me to the nail salon a few times when i was young. that kind of worked, except they never did my nails right, and i always hated how they looked. one week in middle school, she made me wear finger sleeves on my thumbs, the target of my most frenzied flesh-tearing. i still sometimes notice the odd shape of my thumbs and wonder if i damaged them when i was young. after enough punishment and humiliation, my mother and i finally found a solution that worked for both of us. every two weeks, i glued fake nails to my fingers, glue and nails found at the end of the makeup section in the walmart down the street. twelve when i first started this ritual, doing my nails became a built-in part of my beauty routine. i was known for always having fun nails, honing the gluing process over time to extend each set’s lifespan from two to almost five weeks, depending on how much i used my hands. for the rest of middle school and all of high school, my friends would pull the nail glue out of my bag and superglue their fingers together, or my laptop to the desk, or write in glue on their notebooks. many a time, i would lose a nail on the walk to class and trek back through the halls, examining the floor for the shard of plastic. when i finally got the gluing process down to a science, my nail choices became increasingly funky. i’ve opted for a long coffin style since i was maybe sixteen, only deviating for a can’t-miss stiletto design. always long, always ornate. the nails didn’t get any shorter in my two-and-a-half year relationship with a woman, and many a joke was made about my nails being the straightest thing about me. however, i never really kicked the habit of picking at the skin around my nails. anyone who knows me well can tell how stressful my week has been from how intact my finger skin is, with especially bloodied picking-sprees a common occurrence when i don’t have anything else to do with my frantic hands. when i was little, i really believed that i’d grow out of this habit at some point, but every time i take off my nails to change them, i bite off the new growth immediately. i tear at the dry edges of my skin and peel until i’m bleeding, not noticing until i look down from the tv. i glue lost nails back into place immediately, unable to resist the opportunity to rip my nails apart otherwise. recently, i had to remove my nails for a surgery, told that they would interfere with some kind of pulse tracking machine. in the twenty-four hours that i could use my fingertips, it felt like sensations were enhanced tenfold. by the end of the day, my fingertips were sore from overuse, probably because the skin has barely been touched for ten years. despite the joy of typing with upright fingers and being able to nimbly button my pants, i missed my nails. i tore at the skin on my fingers more that day than in months. my real nails were too sharp, and too bendy, and i couldn’t scratch properly, or run my fingers through my hair without making it dirty. i realized my body was so used to having long nails that i would stop short of scratching my face. it’s been about two weeks now, and the skin on my fingers is all healed. i still idly pick at the dry spots, but the clear, pearl-adorned coffin nails on each finger can’t make cuts as efficiently as the nails below them. for some reason, i always thought this anxious habit would melt away with age, but i guess i’ve just put a permanent sleeve on each finger this whole time, letting my bouncing legs and twisting rings take the place of my bloodied cuticles.

[considerablecolors]

Cursed SAF Movie Adaptation

So, obviously we are all in agreement that a SAF movie would be incredible. But. As we all know, musical movie adaptations do not always work out (cough cough dear evan hansen cough cough). So, here are a few ideas for the worst SAF movie possible:

It's co-directed by Tom Hooper and Ryan Murphy. I have nothing else to say here.

James Corden plays Curt Mega. This is a given. Bonus points if a bunch of unnecessary and uncomfortably-close-to-homophobic gay jokes are added to the script and James says all of them in a "gay accent".

Chris Pratt plays Owen. A slightly less obvious choice, but still an important one. Chris grows out his hair for the role, but instead of keeping it Joey's length, he grows it out absurdly long and puts it in a ponytail that flaps in the wind during the staircase scene.

Not a single original actor of SAF is invited to reprise their role. However, it is announced that Darren Criss will be in the film. While the fandom is saddened to hear there won't be any TCB members, we are, of course, thrilled by the Darren Criss news. Until we find out who he's playing.

So, the directors of this movie blessedly keep the Curt & Tatiana friendship. However, they decide there just isn't enough romance in the story. So, they decide to give Tatiana (played by Chrissy Teigen) a love interest. This love interest is Hans, one of Von Nazi's henchmen (played by Darren Criss.) After Not So Bad (a song which probably should have undergone rewrites and was instead extended to be 10 minutes long), Hans helps Tatiana leave and tells her where Curt is being held so she can rescue him. The two share a brief kiss.

Later on in the show, during the couch scene, Prisoner of My Past is replaced with an incredibly basic love song about how Tatiana has always loved Hans and that even though he's a Nazi, she truly believes he's a good person. (Nothing is done to combat this idea.) We never learn about Tatiana's backstory with the KGB, or her family. Her entire character is reduced to Curt's friend and love interest. The new love song is nominated for an Oscar. It does not win.

Speaking of, let's take a look at what songs are cut from the show, since every adaptation cuts a few: Spies Are Forever is cut and replaced with a stale 5 minute, no-dialogue cold opening. An instrumental of The Coldest Goodbye plays over it, but without lyrics. Eyes On The Prize I and II are both cut. (Barb's Lament is extended and becomes its own number.) We Love The Prince! is turned into a club song, as Vanger will be played by RuPaul. One More Shot is cut and replaced with a montage of them drinking, during which a 30-second instrumental of One More Shot plays. Spy Dance plays during the credits, but only after a terrible pop-cover of Tatiana's love song plays.

For whatever reason, the staircase scene no longer takes place on a staircase. It's not even in the Russian Weapons Facility. It's out in the middle of some random field, and Curt and Owen are standing like ten feet apart the whole time yelling the dialogue to each other. It's kind of like the end of Deathly Hallows, but there's not even any magic lasers. They're just fucking yelling across the field at each other.

Anyway, I think if I list anything else I might have a stroke (/j) so I'll end it here lmao.

[jaybirdss]

I hope y'all's day have been amazing or at least really good! I have a request I'd like done if you don't mind, I'm thinking a Cole x Reader (doesn't matter what gender, so your choice!) where the reader manages to brake one of their bones (like maybe a leg) while Cole is away on mission. Cole gets done and goes to get affection from reader only to see them hunkered in his bed with said broken bone, giving Cole a reason to baby them (and carry them around cause you know broken leg)

Either one of you can do this, I really like both of your works! Have a good day 😊

🛼I am actually so sorry this took me so long to complete. Writing this took 3 years off my lifespan but it was definitely worth it. Thank you Dots for helping me finish this, and thank you shinma for requesting this. I hope you enjoy it <3

gender neutral reader! divider credits

Cole came home, fully expecting a big hug from you, for you to dote on him and coddle him with your love after being away for so long.

But he arrives home, only to find you laid up in bed with a cast on your leg.

Immediately Cole is all over you, asking what happened, if someone hurt you, if it hurts, if anything else is wrong, ect ect.

Cole dotes on you as long as possible, even after you’ve fully healed. He takes every opportunity to do things for you, taking off training to look after you.

Cole was tired, but excited to see you again. After a month of being gone, with no communication from you, he came home ready to hold you tight and sleep.

Cole never bothered to tell anyone he was home, his only concern is seeing you. He entered your shared room, antsy to see his love. But once he laid his eyes on you, he was consumed by concern.

There you were, laid in bed with a thick white cast on your leg. Propped up on his pillows, nose pressed into a book. Dropping everything, he rushed to your side, startling you. “What happened? Did someone do this to do?”

“No, no one did this—“ you explain quickly, carefully sitting up with your legs over the edge of the bed. “I fell of the Monastery roof” you grunt softly as the cast thumped against the bed frame. “The roof, how did you manage to- can you even stand? Do you have crutches?”

You laugh, “No silly, I don’t have crutches. I can sort of walk” you say struggling to your feet. You hobble slightly, careful as to not to put too much weight on the injury. Stumbling lightly, causing the noir ninja to flinch.

He carefully wraps his arms around you, before you can take another step or deny his help, supporting your weight easily. “Cole, I can walk”

“Not when I'm around you can’t.”

—

With excitement clear on your face, you walk carefully to the front door, still getting used to your crutches. Cole would be home soon and you wanted to show him that you could walk on your own, albeit slowly. 

Cole gave clear instructions to stay in bed when he wasn’t home to help you. You, of course, didn’t listen. You knew he was just being cautious, but you wanted to show him that you were okay. 

You’d been living with your injury for a few weeks at this point, and you proved many times that you could manage on your own. Cole insisted on helping you as much as he could, which was nice, but soon became overbearing in a way. Even somewhat annoying.

So you were determined to show him that you can manage on your own. Your heart started beating faster when you heard the door open. In walked Cole, who immediately came to your aid, worry strung along his features.

“What are you doing out of bed?” he asked, walking you to a chair against the far wall. “You could have hurt yourself, y/n!”. Cole takes his place of standing in front of you, worry drawing his eyebrows together. 

You huff, “Cole I can walk on my own” and stand up, choosing to disregard your crutches and walk without them. You try, and fail, to walk past Cole and end up falling. Effortlessly he catches you, holding you by the arms. “That's what I mean y/n, you can’t walk alone”

You feel anger bubbling up in your throat, but swallow it down. He didn’t mean to be so overbearing, he’s just concerned. Taking a deep breath, you speak. 

“Maybe I’d be able to walk if someone would help me walk instead of forcing me to stay in bed” you say with more bite than you intended. Cole pauses, and sits you back on the chair. He sits too. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that-” but he shakes his head, effectively cutting you off. “No, you’re right. I’m being too restrictive on you. I should be helping you walk and let you get back to doing things alone. I’m sorry y/n”. 

“ ‘s okay, you were just looking out for me” you say, a sweet smile blooming on your face. You pull him in a hug, and kiss his cheek lovingly. “Now, help me walk to the kitchen, I’m hungry”

[not-poignant]

If you don't mind me asking why did you stop working as a professional artist? Your work is amazing! I could totally see your animal artwork being in kids picture books or even on wrapping paper

Hi anon!

I'm so so glad you enjoy the art! That makes me happy. Feel free to check out my DeviantArt because there's a lot more there than elsewhere. :D (Eventually I'll probably be using ArtStation or something like that too dsalkfjsa).

I stopped working as a professional artist because of money. I make more money as a writer than I ever could as an artist, despite giving art my all. Not to mention that art gave me repetitive strain injuries in my wrists (that I still have to this day) as well as eye-strain and a few other physical ailments that I still have to be careful of.

While writing is hard on the body, it could never be as hard or challenging as my particular art style was. And after a while it just got hard to justify working that hard, in that much pain, for like 0.50c an hour. And while I don't make that much more these days, I definitely make more for less suffering!

But yeah it was purely a financial/economical decision. I still actually do make art! But I no longer do commissions, and I pretty much only do it when I feel like it. But some of the things I've done this year alone include:

I think professional traditional art is also in some ways less disability friendly than writing. Or at least the kind of writing I do. I'm a traditional artist, and the easiest ways to make money as a traditional artist are to go the gallery circuit, which requires visiting galleries, pitching to them, and being seen at gallery shows (all things I could not do), or to go the mass production circuit via selling prints and so on. But I also can't go to print shops. And I can't drive. And I can't get to the post office (Glen posts all my art for me). As a result, I have to use a lot of POD services (and I do have a Redbubble storefront!), and anyway, it just didn't work out.

I still sort of think of ways to monetise the art on occasion. Which is usually trying to go beyond the lifespan of just selling an original piece of art. I tried prints, that didn't didn't work out. I tried colouring pages, that didn't work out. Children's picture books are the least profitable form of writing and art-making out there, unfortunately (people don't know this, but it's the most competitive writing market out of all of them, with the least longevity, because kids grow out of picture books, so while a few authors make a mint, most authors and artists make a pittance). I released an oracle deck and that made me about $900 this year which... is both good and not great or sustainable.

So yeah, that's why. Because while I'm not making a liveable income still, it's more liveable for less labour. My decision to quit art was purely down to income, which is why I know if things get dire with writing, I will do the same with writing, because I have given away a creative career that I loved before.

That being said, I have the particular satisfaction of knowing that my artwork is owned / has been commissioned by a cameraman / cinematographer that worked with David Attenborough across many of his series, and filmed birds of paradise on location more than once (he purchased almost all of my birds of paradise illustrations). By a head zookeeper at London Zoo who got so many pieces we became friends and are mutuals across social media, and I got to meet her in 2019 and she took us 'behind the scenes' to spend a lot of personal time with penguins and we chatted for ages.

Because I've done so much creative natural history illustration I've made connections and friends with biologists and zoologists all over the world, and it's been a humbling privilege to have been able to draw the favourite animals of some people, especially when those animals rarely get artwork in general. And I still love animals, so I do still draw them.

But it likely won't ever be my main job again sdalfkdjs

[tinyyoungblood]

hi!! do you know that tiktok trend where the girl asks her bf if he can temporarily break up with her so she can be heartbroken when she listens to olivia rodrigo’s new album and the bf always says no? could you do that but with peter and avenger!reader? i don’t really know how the avengers play into that but i trust you to think of something great. love your work babes <3

pairing: peter parker x avenger!reader

word count: 2.7k

a/n: hey fren, tysm <3 i do know that trend, and it always warms my darn heart. you probably meant for this to be a headcanon but halfway through i realised that i was writing full sentences, so i just rolled with it bc i have no self-control lol enjoy x

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Peter, I need you to break up with me.”

Not a moment later, you heard a series of loud crashes and Peter stumbled out of the bathroom, hopping on one leg while fiddling with his zipper. “What did you just say?” His eyes were wild as they scanned your face.

“I need you to break up with me,” you repeated calmly, not taking your eyes off your laptop.

“Break up with you?” Peter echoed, hand raking through his hair in bewilderment. “Why would I do that? Do you want to break up?”

This made you look up. Peter was staring at you like you had just insulted his face, making it quite an effort to stay serious. “It’s just for 34 minutes and 46 seconds,” you assured. “So I can listen to Olivia Rodrigo’s new album.”

He blinked at you.

“What?”

“Please?” You set your laptop aside, shuffling to the end of the bed so you were sitting right in front of him. “I want to listen to it in full effect with a broken heart and everything.”

“I…” Peter slowly shook his head. A helpless laugh escaped him. “Um, no. Thank you.” He turned and made to return to the bathroom.

“Peter,” you whined and grabbed for his hand, pulling him to a halt.

“Sorry, angel.” He shrugged, supressing the faint tug at the corner of his mouth.

“Pleeeeaase.”

“Nope.”

You pouted. “We can break up when you train with Bucky! In that way you won’t even notice because you’ll be busy and distracted. I won’t even be on your mind.” You weren’t sure what you had said that made Peter stare at you like you were insane, but it took him a second to snap out of it.

He cupped your face with his hands and made sure to meet your eyes. “Babe, I think about you all the time.” He said it like it was a wish he wanted to word correctly. Slow and precise. Then he switched to a lighter tone that implied that he was done with the conversation. “I’m not breaking up with you.” With that he turned and left for the bathroom.

“Fine,” you called back although the water was already running and you doubted that Peter could hear you. And if he did, he probably didn’t care. You took that as your cue to leave. Defeated, you plucked your headphones into your phone and picked out a song of Olivia’s album at random.

Steve was lounging on the couch of the common room when you entered. He looked up from his magazine and gave you a small smile by way of greeting. You returned it by tapping two fingers at your temple in salute, ignoring the way how his stare lingered a little longer. You sat down next to him. When you locked eyes again, you saw the silent question on his face and let out a laugh. It ended up sounding more like a delightful scoff.

“I know Tony takes pride in being the philanthropist amongst us, but for someone who grew up in the ice age, you’re really good at reading people’s faces.” You wanted to annoy Steve, maybe even coax out a laugh, but he just kept looking at you, and you held his gaze. You were good at it—an aftereffect of living with Bucky who happened to love the same yoghurt as you did. Sometimes you put all western movies to shame with the way you narrowed your eyes at each other early in the morning in front of the fridge.

To your luck, Steve was just as stubborn, which meant that you two could’ve kept it going until death if it weren’t for the door banging open.

“I can’t believe you did this to me!” A voice boomed. You took a wild guess and assumed it was Clint.

“Tell me about it!” Another voice bellowed right back.

A second later, Sam and Clint marched into the room, furious, whereas Bucky strolled in behind them with no care in the world.

The former two were holding bags of food. Both were animated and waving their arms through the air while arguing. You turned down the volume of your phone in time to hear Steve demand, “What’s going on?”

Clint and Sam stared daggers at Bucky until Steve amended, “Buck, what did you do?”

The man in question turned around, facing his best friend in exasperation. “I asked these two to get food for me.” This earned him a snarl. Bucky waved them off and examined his metal arm, unconcerned. “Honestly, I have no idea why they’re getting so worked up about it.”

“We—” Sam gestured wildly between Clint and himself. “—were asked to pick up food for him from two different places. And neither of us knew about it!”

“Yes, neither of us knew,” Clint chimed in, eyes narrowing at Bucky who was busy flicking dust off his arm. “And I don’t know about you, Sam, but I was touched. I was moved, okay? Because Bucky never asks for anything and here I was, thinking we’re starting to bond or whatever but now I just feel USED.”

Sam gave a harsh sound in agreement.

“Bucky,” said Steve after no one had anything to add. “What do you have to say to that?”

Your gaze flitted between them, not sure what to expect. Bucky didn’t give any sign of wanting to respond, making you wonder if he had heard Cap at all. But then a slow smile swept over his lips and you noted that it was probably the most feline smile you’d ever seen. It was a smile storybook villains wore after burning down the world.

“The only thing I have to say is that I regret not having the moment they ran into each other in the elevator on video tape, because that—” He turned and looked Sam and Clint straight in the eye. “—was amazing.”

No one spoke.

“Ruthless,” you said under your breath and just like marionettes, the four men glanced you before another argument broke.

You took the chance to turn the volume back up. “happier” was playing and you settled further into the couch to watch the scene unfold. Sam was arguing so passionately that the vein on his neck was making an impressive appearance. Clint, on the other hand, had a palm pressed flat to his chest; his face showing pure betrayal. Bucky didn’t seem to care for the chaos. He tried multiple times to grab for the bags only for one of them to move out of his reach. When you glanced at Steve, you nearly lost it.

He was staring at them like his lifespan had just been reduced to ten years. He looked like he wanted to throw pebbles after them.

Nudging him with your arm, you silently handed him one of your earphones. He glanced at you and hesitated, probably thinking of the many times you had offered him a taste of blaring electronic music. You rolled your eyes and insisted again. This time, Steve took it and you watched in amusement as his brows rose in surprise.

“I like the piano,” he mouthed and glimpsed at the name of the song. You grinned.

In the meantime, Clint and Sam had decided to form an alliance. They had planted themselves in the opposite couch, digging into the contents of the brown bags while Bucky gawked at them from the other side of the room with his mouth ajar and heart ripped out of his chest. Shaking his head in disbelief, he let himself fall into the armchair facing them. He looked devastated. You weren’t sure if you had to stifle a laugh or tears.

Next to you, Steve chocked back a laugh. You quirked an eyebrow and considered him only to realise the reason behind his glee. Bucky was brooding in his seat while Sam and Clint did an excellence job on commenting every bite. Nothing has ever received as much praise as that pasta, and you were certain that if this were a cartoon, there would be rain clouds hovering above Bucky’s head. As if the angels had set it up themselves, you took notice of the lyrics.

I hope you're happy, but not like how you were with me

I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go

So find someone great but don't find no one better

Bucky was pouting, poking the leather of his armchair with his finger while stealing glances at Sam and Clint. It was perfect. Steve slapped a hand on his chest and he tipped his head back, laughing.

I hope you're happy, I wish you all the best, really

Say you love her, baby, just not like you loved me

And think of me fondly when your hands are on her

I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

You were both laughing hysterically. The others had stopped their on-going war to stare at the two of you; their expressions baffled. The song came to an end and Steve gave back your earphone, rubbing his eye as if wiping away a tear. He rose and walked over to Bucky, hurling him to his feet and putting an arm around his shoulders.

“Oh, Buck,” Steve said with a note of laughter in his voice. “There’s a song I need to show you.” You smiled as you watched them leave.

“Well, this was fun.” You pushed yourself off the couch and shook your head as Sam offered you some of his sushi. “Thanks, but I’m on a mission to get heartbroken.”

Leaving the men to their food, you wandered the halls and listened to “traitor” as you walked past Wanda’s room. Her door was open and you could see that Vision was in the middle of a chess game with Bruce and Wanda. By the looks of it, Vision was as good as winning and you reined the urge to cheer for him. You peaked around the door frame and saw that Vision had their king in check. Deep betrayal crossed Wanda’s face.

You chuckled quietly and whispered, “FRIDAY, play what I’m listening to right now through the speakers in Wanda’s room.” FRIDAY didn’t bother to respond but not a second later, the lyrics were blasting through her room and their heads snapped up in confusion.

Don't you dare forget about the way

You betrayed me

'Cause I know that you'll never feel sorry

For the way I hurt, yeah

“Wanda?“ You heard Vision’s careful voice. “What is going on?”

Guess you didn't cheat

But you're still

You're still a traitor

“I’m not sure, but these lyrics aren’t wrong…You are a traitor.” Wanda narrowed her eyes at him, slowly bobbing her head to the music. Treason danced in her eyes. It was the beginning of a villain origin story.

“Maybe it’s a sign of God,” Bruce said and you almost burst out laughing.

God, I wish that you had thought this through

Before I went and fell in love with you

“Hell yeah!” Wanda yelled and this time you bolted down the hallway, wheezing. You dashed right into Tony’s lab and slammed the door.

“What are you on?” He looked up in amusement. You simply shook your head, laughter still bubbling over your lips.

“Just spreading love in this facility.” You waved your hand at nothing in particular and Tony nodded.

“Right, I heard you asked Peter to break up with you to listen to that one album? Very dramatic. I like it.”

“See.” You gestured at him, indicating that he was the only one who got it. “It’s a good album. Maybe you should ask Pepper to divorce you.”

Tony gave a humourless laugh. “Yeah, I don’t think she would come back if I asked her.”

“Yikes,” you mumbled and this time Tony’s laughed for real.

“So what? You’ve just been walking around waiting for heartbreak?” He turned back to whatever he was working on. You stepped closer to get a peek.

“Precisely.”

“Sounds tiring.”

“I’m powered by exhaustion” You handed him the wrench he needed. “Want a listen? I think there’s a song you might like.”

He contemplated the offer and lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug. “Sure, why not.” You couldn’t help but squeal. You knew that Tony probably didn’t care but sharing your music was always exciting.

Beaming, you removed your headphones and connected your phone to the speakers of Tony’s lab. The first tunes of “good 4 u” started playing and Tony tapped his foot to the beat, head bobbing just slightly. When the chorus hit, he stood up and you stepped back, thinking he wanted to headbang. Instead, he reached for a tool that was further away. You didn’t miss the way he moved his shoulders in a little dance move though.

“I like this one,” he said, and you flashed him a smile. You continued working on the suit, handing Tony things you knew he needed until you passed him a plier and he froze. You furrowed your brows, glanced at the tool you knew was the right one, and cocked your head in silent question.

Maybe I'm too emotional

Or maybe you never cared at all

Looking you straight in the eyes, he flung the plier over his shoulder, opened a drawer, and took out another plier to use on his suit. You gasped.

“How dare you,” you whispered in shock. Tony had the nerve to shrug.

“Enjoy your little heartbreak moment, Y/N.” He shooed you away like a cat. “FRIDAY, yank up the volume, would you.”

Well, good for you, you look happy and healthy

Not me, if you ever cared to ask

Good for you, you're doin' great out there without me

“Guys?” Peter’s voice was drowned out by the booming music. He was leaning against the doorframe, watching in amusement as you and Tony towered on the lab tables, using screwdrivers as provisional microphones. While Tony played a terrific air guitar, you sank dramatically to your knees and impressed the crowd with your air drumming skills.

“Guys?” Peter tried again, chuckling. This time you and Tony whipped around at the same time and pointed straight at Peter.

Like a damn sociopath

You threw your arms up in the air and spun in circles while Tony jumped into quite an impressive split leap.

I've lost my mind

I've spent the night cryin' on the floor in my bathroom

Just over the fact that I really don't get it

But I guess good for you

The song came to an end, and you leapt on Tony’s table to share a screwdriver with him as you sang the last lyrics together.

Well, good for you, I guess you moved on really easily

The song ended and all you could hear was heavy breathing. Peter began to clap. “This was great, you guys. Wow.”

You exchanged glances with Tony before making a show of bowing at the waist.

“So this is what happens when I refuse to break up with you?” Peter strolled over to where you sat on the lab table, positioning himself between your legs. Tony chuckled and jumped off to grab a water bottle from across the room.

“I’m gonna need you to elaborate on that,” you said, just for the devil of it.

Peter smiled. “Cap and Bucky are crying over a song, Vision is sending Wanda flowers in ten-minute intervals, and you are down here having a rock concert with Tony.”

You gave him a toothy grin. “I was just feeling sour.”

* * *

stay hydrated pals

[frog-writes-for-fun]

Hey!👋

Thank you so much for writing my request. I realy liked it.

So I‘m here for more, but this time some shenanigans with empires!Scotty reader. ( If you want to of course)

Thank you and have a nice day!

( also, I‘m probably request stuff more often, so could I maybe be 🍄anon?)

Welcome, 🍄 anon! I hope you’re also having a great day! I took shenanigans very literally for this one.

Rivendell Rowdiness

Empires!Scott x gn!Reader (platonic)

Summary: The composed leader of Rivendell wasn’t always so poised. You’re ready to remind him of those days when Winter Fest comes around.

Warnings: None! Just fluff!

Note: This was really fun to write! No disclaimers or anything needed for this one!

You were the child of one of the many Rivendell shepherds. Due to the long lifespan of elves, there tended to be long periods of time between births, and the fact that you were born in the same year as a prince was seen as a good omen for your future.

Because of your closeness in age, you and Scott were encouraged to become friends. The idea was that the two of you would be rivals, encouraging each other to better yourselves and become model citizens.

Yeah… no.

The two of you were the empire’s menace, forces of chaos and makers of mischief.

One of your favourite parts of the year was the annual Winter Fest. Everyone was in a cheery mood, and you and Scott were able to get away with a lot more in the name of the festive season.

When all the Rivendell children gathered to decorate trees before the holiday, everyone knew when you and Scott had helped. The branches were nearly overloaded with decorations, and tinsel and baubles surrounded the base.

During the Winter Fest snow elemental summoning ceremonies, Scott would have to stand among the nobles while you were in the crowd. It became a competition: you would make faces to try and get Scott to break composure. No matter the outcome, one of you would call for a rematch the next year.

Of course, the two of you had more traditional pranks as well: releasing sheep into the crowd, sneaking sweet treats, surprise snowball fights, and training owls to steal gold jewellery were among some of your favourites.

Once Scott took the throne as king of Rivendell, he had far less time for fun and shenanigans with you, and your childhood closeness faded. For the first few years, the Winter Fest remained a time when the two of you would forget your responsibilities and become kids again.

Eventually though, the two of you came to rarely interact. Scott was always off dealing with diplomatic matters while you had duties to fulfil at home. Due to the king’s absences and the retirement of the High Wizards, the Winter Fest slowly became a much smaller holiday, something to celebrate with close family and friends rather than a citywide festival.

After the whole Xornoth fiasco went down Scott held the Rivendell Festival for the ambassadors of the other empires, and it rekindled interest in similar events. When Scott gained his ice magic powers, it almost seemed to be an omen in favour of the Winter Fest.

So, Winter Fest was held. There were some definite differences from the festivals of your youth, but the spirit was the same.

In keeping with that feeling, you saw an opportunity to relive some of the festivities of the past and you took it.

Scott stood near the entrance to Rivendell, welcoming visitors from the nearby empires to Winter Fest. His back was turned to you as he spoke to a blonde man wearing… was that a fish on his head?

Well, no matter how terrible his guest’s fashion sense was, this was a prime chance to prank him. A nearby stand seemed to be handing out Winter Fest crackers. You ducked behind it to avoid being seen if Scott turned around, scooping up a handful of snow.

Packing the snow into a sphere, you peeked out around the cracker stand to aim. Scott was still engrossed in conversation with the man in the cod hat.

Smack!

The snowball hit directly in the centre of his back. Scott whipped around to face you as his companion began to laugh. You stood confidently, a smirk plastered onto your face as you took in his shocked and confused expression.

The smile dropped quickly as Scott, with reflexes much faster than you anticipated, smiled and scooped up his own handful of the snow that covered the ground.

You didn’t have time to run before the snowball was flying at you. All you could do was raise your hands to shield your face, scattering white powder around you as it impacted.

“Oh, it is on!” You dove to the side, ending up behind a snow bank. When you poked your head up to aim another snowball, you found that a wall of ice had popped up in the middle of the town square.

Scott and his friend crouched behind it, and any Rivendell citizens that knew the two of you in your youth began to clear out, ushering away younger elves and visitors.

You ducked back down, gathered an armful of ammunition, then dashed out, aiming to go around the edge of the wall.

You made it approximately 10 metres before you were buried in a pile of snow.

“Back to our childish ways, are we?” Scott’s teasing tone met you as you pushed through the slush to the surface.

“Not fair!” You glared at him once you managed to make your way out. “I don’t have magic powers!” He only laughed at you.

He introduced you soon after to Jimmy.

You teased him absolutely mercilessly about his crush on the Codfather once you found out.

The rest of Winter Fest was filled with merriment and reliving many of the pranks you and Scott remembered from your childhood.

The elves old enough to remember you as the chaos duo were terrified. They thought they were free from this!

The best victims were the younger elves, though. They had no idea what was coming!

Some of them definitely took notes. You might have to watch out for some of the youngsters next Winter Fest.