#anyway have these that i managed to squeeze in in between projects

[sidoopa]

im eaten alive rn by animating so heres some doodles from the past few months yeayeayeayeayeayeayeayeayea

[scoops-aboy86]

wc: 4849 | Rating: T | CW: greening out, recreational drug use | Additional Tags: new years fic, pining, Steve Harrington’s bisexual awakening/crisis, love confessions, getting together

note: the apple cider mentioned is not hard cider, just the stuff that’s like apple juice but better 

(also on ao3)

Drink A Cup of Kindness Yet

It’s New Year’s Eve, and Steve Harrington is greening out. 

Which, really, isn’t his fault. He’s smoked before, had pot brownies that had tasted even worse than these ones, it’s just been a while. Who knew that your tolerance could completely reset itself after only… six months. 

And, okay, maybe that happens to coincide exactly with the length of time Eddie’s been away on Corroded Coffin’s first tour. Whatever Robin says, it’s not because he’s been pining. Who’s ever heard of missing something you never even had?

(Steve’s heard. Steve’s done it. Sometimes he still misses being with Nancy even though he knows, knows he never really had her heart, not fully. Or his parents’ warmth and affection, projected onto his childhood memories mostly from heartwarming movies because they’re just not that kind of people in real life. But… shut up.)

So now he’s here, balled up on the Buckley family’s sofa like one wrong move will send him toppling to the floor and too warm, so overheated that his body doesn’t feel like it’s fitted on its bones right. With Eddie holding his hand—stupid, after all the time they’ve spent smoking together before Eddie’s music career started taking off. The guy was always up for a toke, and Steve had taken advantage of that to spend more and more time with him until real life cut Steve off cold turkey. 

From the weed, obviously. That… That’s the real problem here. 

“Sorry,” Steve forces out. His head lolls back against the couch; talking takes a lot of effort and concentration. “That I’m… blrrrmph.” 

That last bit is a stand in for whatever word he means that he totally can’t think of right now. It’s sarcastic and frustrated and a little bit whiny, and he’s so disappointed in himself for it. 

Eddie squeezes his hand. “Don’t worry about it, Stevie. It’s my fault anyway, I shouldn’t have made the brownies so strong. Just… New Year’s, you know? I went a little overboard.”

At a loss, Steve squeezes back. On one hand, he'd be much more comfortable if Eddie were annoyed with him, because Steve is used to that response from people. On the other, he’d had a half-baked plan to maybe get up the nerve to kiss Eddie at midnight because, like, that’s what people do when the clock strikes midnight to ring in the new year. It’s just the three of them, and it’s not like he can kiss Robin, she’s basically his sister. 

But now he’s over baked. He’s wrong footed without being on his feet, pulse racing and dizzy without moving, stomach uneasy because of how out of whack his internal thermostat seems to be right now, and Eddie…

Eddie is smoothing a cool wet washcloth over his forehead, courtesy of Robin—who only had one bite of brownie to start with as a precaution, and ended up a perfectly manageable amount of high. On one hand, Steve hates that about her not while he himself is so incapacitated. On the other, he loves her for being able to bring him stuff. 

Wait. How many hands is that by now? What kind of many-handed creature is he building with his internal ramblings?

Eddie holds a mug to his mouth. The ceramic is cool against his bottom lip, so he allows it; stares straight into Eddie’s big, worried brown eyes while being fed sips of apple cider, sweet and cool over his tongue, down his throat. 

“Gotta stay hydrated,” Eddie is saying, a soothing murmur. “It’ll help bring you down, sweetheart. Like a parachute.”

Steve wants to shake his head, but the message to move keeps getting lost somewhere between his brain and his neck. Which is stupid, they’re right next to each other! He waits until the mug goes away, then mumbles, “Nnn. Crash.” Puffing out his cheeks, he imitates what he thinks sounds like an explosion. 

“Nuh-uh,” Eddie retorts. A crinkle appears between his eyebrows and Steve wants to smooth it out, but he can’t. He can’t. “I’d never let you crash.”

And then. Oh no. It occurs to Steve that that’s not strictly true, and it’s not even Eddie’s fault because he didn’t know. About the… the… Well, Steve doesn’t even really know, he’s spent so long carefully tiptoeing around the shape of it—can’t miss what you never had—but. Eddie left. His departure carved out a hole, a crater that marked the way they’d emergency-landed into each other's lives one terrible Spring Break and never parted until… until. 

Steve’s eyes are swimming, leaking, possibly melting out of his skull and none of it is Eddie’s fault. It’s not Eddie’s fault that he fell into the crater in his own chest and can’t climb out, can’t even move. 

Eddie’s eyes, in contrast, go wide. “Oh, Stevie, you’re okay—”

“I d-d-d,” Steve tries, stuttering and locked up and too hot and too queasy and too much. 

Another weight settles on his other side: Robin, sitting on the arm of the couch and wriggling her cold feet under him. It is, she told him once, the closest she will ever get to willingly touching his ass, and that memory wrings an incongruous, wet little laugh out of Steve even now. 

“Ride it out, dingus,” she tells him, combing fingers through his sweaty hair and, he can tell, trying to fix it for him. Not that she’s ever very good at doing so, but he appreciates the attempt. “I brought you some leftovers if you’re hungry.”

Robin’s mom loves turkey, so it’s always on the Buckley family menu for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s Eve. It’s what they all had before the older adults went off to some party they’d been invited to and the ‘kids’ stayed behind. Now Robin’s brought him a small plate with the perfect ratio of turkey, stuffing, and jellied cranberry sauce, the kind that comes in the shape of a can. Not really finger food, but that’s how she feeds it to him whenever he flops his head from facing Eddie to facing her. 

His eyes well up again because he’s got the best people in the world here with him, and because he’s being a total loser right now but it doesn’t matter because he’s got the best people in the world here with him, and… 

Woah. Déjà vu. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles again with a sniffle. “Shitty New Year’s.”

Eddie’s still holding his hand, squeezing it again reassuringly. “Trust me, big boy, this is nothing. I tried something on the road that, like, I don’t even know what that was. And I’m supposed to know my shit right? Ended up trashing a hotel room, which was… a classic rockstar move, actually, but it felt terrible. Especially after. You can’t help a bad trip while it’s happening, just gotta take steps once it’s over to make sure it never happens again.” He pauses. “And that’s why me and all the guys have made a blood pact not to accept anything from groupies, roadies, or music execs anymore.”

Robin, from where Steve isn’t looking, hums. “Naming that many sources doesn’t sound like it was just a one time mistake.”

Eddie shrugs, a motion that flows all the way up Steve’s arm from their clasped hands. “Well, there are four of us, so.”

Steve doesn’t want to think about what Eddie is or isn’t doing, what he is or isn’t accepting, from groupies. Distantly, he can feel his face doing something—pouting, maybe—as he whines and tips closer into Eddie’s space. Ends up with his face smooshed against the other man’s collarbone and throat, touching both threadbare band t-shirt and bare, stubbled skin. Now that he’s out of Robin’s reach, Eddie takes over stroking his hair after only a brief hesitation. 

And, like. Not to downplay how much Steve appreciates Robin, but this is better. He’s not sure why, it just is. If Eddie keeps going, he could probably stay here forever, just like this. 

Which is how he dozes off, all sense of time melting away until he merely exists, a seamless transition from being cradled by Eddie in real life to surrounded by him in a dream. 

~

Steve wakes with a snort to find himself almost right where he’d started, except instead of tucked into the corner of the couch he’s tucked into Eddie’s lap, probably squashing the other man’s legs numb. Instead of holding his hand, Eddie’s other arm is wrapped firmly around his back, holding him securely in place; the hand that had been in Steve’s is now holding several playing cards. Dick Clark’s Rockin’ Eve plays on low in the background, light shifting through the otherwise dim room. 

“Go fish,” Eddie crows softly, then turns to Steve as Robin huffs and takes a card from the draw pile. “Hey there, Sleeping Beauty. You feeling better?”

Feeling humiliated is more like it. Can’t even handle his—But at the same time, something in Steve has settled. A crater filled in. He doesn’t pick his head up, but he does bring a hand to his mouth to wipe away an embarrassing amount of drool, and tries clumsily to wipe it with the edge of his sleeve from where Eddie’s neck meets his shoulder, too. 

“M’fine,” he mutters, not totally convinced this is true. He feels clearer, sure, but definitely still high. He’s still sleepy, muscles lax, comfortable where he is. Embarrassment isn’t quite enough to make him move yet, drool or not. 

To hell with new year traditions though, because he can’t try for a midnight kiss now; his luck tonight has been way too bad already. And besides, he hasn’t even admitted to Robin he’s having these thoughts first, which is probably a soulmate faux pas. Kissing Eddie without consulting her first seems borderline rude. Or something. 

(More like he’s being a coward, but he’s pretty sure his reasons are, you know. Reasonable.)

He squints at the cards in Eddie’s hand. “Ask for sevens.”

“Okay. Got any sevens, Birdie?” There’s something warm and affectionate in Eddie’s tone. A smile, maybe—something Steve had missed while he was conked out. 

“Two against one, no fair,” Robin grumbles, but hands over a card. 

They play for a little while longer like that, until Robin is eventually placated by winning despite the allegedly unfair player imbalance. When she bounces up to get them all refills of cider in time for the midnight countdown, Eddie gets Steve’s attention by leaning back just enough to make eye contact. 

“Hey Stevie. I’m really sorry I didn’t warn you about the brownies… I should probably take a tolerance break, I barely even felt it and that clashes with my personal values.” The smile Eddie shoots at him is lopsided, dimple popping on one side in a way that makes Steve want to cup his cheek in one hand and pull him close until their mouths touch. Fuck. “Gotta be easier on the wallet and get back to those days of being a cheap date, otherwise I lose some of my already questionable appeal.”

“‘S not questionable,” Steve protests through a yawn. “You’re nice.”

“To you,” Eddie retorts. “To everyone else, I’m mean as a snake.”

His voice is gone quiet again. If Steve didn’t know any better he’d think it was shy—but Eddie Munson doesn’t do shy, there’s no way. Eddie Munson… is a goddamn rockstar trying not to stay stuck in this podunk town, and Steve finds himself smiling stupidly at him with reddened eyes that are still slightly unfocused. 

“You’re a big metal softie,” Steve says, because the record’s gotta be set straight. He taps Eddie’s nose for emphasis and chuckles when Eddie scrunches it and goes cross eyed trying to follow the motion with his eyes. 

There’s a moment where they just sort of look at each other. Steve feels so content, just looking at him. Knowing that Eddie isn’t expecting anything of him beyond being himself, which is… well, it doesn’t come easy a lot of the time, but for now he feels loose and warm. 

“Steve, can I tell you something?” Eddie whispers. 

He wants to hear what Eddie has to say. He always wants to hear everything on Eddie’s mind. So he nods. 

Gently, Eddie brushes Steve’s hair out of his eyes. (When had that gotten there?) “For a while now, I’ve—”

“Here we go!” Robin interrupts, setting their three glasses of fancy apple juice on the coffee table and flopping down behind Steve. “Do you think we have time to play another round? I bet I could kick your ass at War before the ball drops.”

“Robin,” Eddie says without breaking eye contact with Steve, “I think you forgot something in the kitchen.”

There’s a pause, presumably while Robin reads the room, and then Steve feels the couch shift as she stands again. “Oh! You know what, you’re right! I’ll just… go figure out what that was while you two keep talking, carry on.”

Even though that’s his platonic soulmate, there was never a question of turning to look at her. Steve is breathless, floating, and Eddie is all around him, just like in his dream. It’s doing something inscrutable and fantastic to his insides. (I am still really high, he thinks, and then promptly loses the thought.)

When she’s gone again, Eddie simply says, “I missed you, Steve.”

“You did?” Steve whispers. 

“Yeah. And it made me realize something.” 

He’s still busy welling up just from Eddie thinking of him while out in the big wide world at all. “What?” 

Eddie smiles, a complicated emotion sculpting his expressive face that Steve wants to map with his fingertips until he knows it like the back of his own hand. “That life’s too short not to tell someone you love them.”

What?  

“And it’s funny,” Eddie continues, “because you’d think I would’ve figured that out after nearly dying, but nope. That little epiphany waited until I left Hawkins and realized how… just how perfectly you’d folded yourself into my life. I missed seeing you, talking to you every day. And I didn’t say anything about it any of the times I called because I didn’t want to fuck up at least being friends—”

Steve gets that. It’s been the loudest of his not-quite-thoughts for months now.

“—But fuck it, alright? I love you. So I had to come back and, well… I chickened out on saying it earlier tonight, and then you got way too high and this probably isn’t the best time to dump this on you, but…” He smiles nervously. “The way you’ve been looking at me since you woke up, it’s like there’s stars in your eyes, Stevie. I don’t know if it’s for me or if it’s the weed or what, but it keeps making my heart do cartwheels. You don’t have to… I’m not asking for anything, and if you don’t feel the same way—like, romantically, I don’t mean platonic right now, just to be very, very clear—that’s okay, but I just needed you to know. That I love you.”

I love you. Just like that, unprompted. Twice. Kinda three times, even, if you count life’s too short not to tell someone you love them. 

In all of Steve’s relationships, he’s been the first to say it, always. He hasn’t said it in a long time, so it’s been a while since he’s heard it from anyone other than Robin—until this shooting star left where it had risen to in the sky to spend an honestly tame night with two best friends, one of whom can’t handle his special brownies for shit, saying that Steve fit in his life as though he’d had a crater carved in him too. Gazing at him now with a heartbreakingly open look, like he wouldn’t even hold it against him if Steve shrugged off Eddie’s arm and climbed out of his lap for this. 

And Steve, with all his walls around his heart to keep it from breaking, walls in his head around the start of thoughts about Eddie best left untouched for danger of getting in over his head… He hasn’t given himself the time or space to come to terms with any of it, but he can feel all that time spent not thinking about it welling up behind his eyes, the byproduct of pressing it all down oozing back up, and fuck. The last thing he wants is to fuck this up and lose Eddie, but that doesn’t mean he wants to cry about it. 

It happens anyway, too stoned to be any good at holding it in. 

“Oh, shit,” Eddie says, that same crinkle between his eyebrows again as he cradles Steve closer. Closer, not away, so that’s something. That’s… Steve doesn’t know if it’s what he wants right now, body responding so equally with urges to flee and relax that he ends up feeling too leaden to move. Again. “Shit, sorry, I—Do you want me to get Robin?”

Steve shakes his head violently, the inside of it as blank as an Etch-A-Sketch, and what’s wrong with him? He can’t—he would kill to talk to Robin, but he hasn’t, not about this, not for months. What the fuck is wrong with him?

She could’ve helped him sort this out, and then he might know what to say about Eddie loving him. Instead, he's sitting here in Eddie’s lap feeling like he could just as easily run a marathon or simply fall over dead. 

“I didn’t, I don’t know,” Steve says, panicking. His hands fumble, he’s not even sure what they’re trying to do until they’re clutching at Eddie, fingers twisted into the band shirt that’s so soft and faded he can’t even tell what’s on it, had been trying to puzzle it out right up until he’d gotten too high to function. “Eddie, I haven’t…”

“I know,” Eddie replies quickly, even though he doesn’t. “I’m not asking you for anything here. I wouldn’t put you on the spot like that, Steve.”

But you did, Steve thinks hysterically, because he had just by bringing it up, just by… 

Eddie is pulling Steve to rest his forehead on his shoulder, something they’ve done for each other in panic attacks and after nightmares ever since surviving the end of the world together. They’ve both done it for Robin, and she’s done it for them. This is barely different, the same gesture even if what Steve is freaking out about this time is wholly new-but-not-new, and being high through it makes things easier and harder. 

His heart is thumping hard and fast in his chest like it might burst. Maybe he wants it to. 

Maybe Eddie needs to see the messy contents of his heart and help sort through the gore and the junk to find what’s real in it, if anything. Steve doesn’t trust himself to know; he’s had trouble trusting himself with love, anyone’s love but Robin’s really, for a long time. 

“You just,” he whines into Eddie’s shoulder. “You don’t know, Eds, you—I don’t even fucking know!”

There’s a hand rubbing soothing patterns over his back, a little uncertain. “Okay, I don’t know. I’m not sure what you’re talking about, obviously, but it’s okay not to know.”

No it’s not, because Eddie deserves an answer. Eddie was brave, is brave, and Steve is… whatever this is. A mess. Maybe confused, maybe just trying to be more like Robin and mistaking his friendship with Eddie for attraction. How is he supposed to be sure? 

Steve’s fingers twist harder into the soft t-shirt material as he blurts out, “You left.” He doesn’t like how accusing it sounds, how whiney still, but now that he’s started he can’t stop. “I missed you too, you asshole, I… It’s been killing me, Eds, and I didn’t, I don’t know!”

“It’s okay not to know,” Eddie repeats, sounding dazed and maybe a little desperate, probably because Steve isn’t making any sense. 

“But I need to,” Steve argues frantically. “I can’t, I can’t fuck this up, or I’m just fucking bullshit again and I can’t—”

“No.” It’s the first firm thing Eddie has said in a while, the first thing he’s sounded sure about since I just needed you to know. He pulls back, but only enough to lift Steve’s chin to look at him, big brown eyes locking in like a tractor beam to rival the Death Star’s. “You are not bullshit.”

It’s just as devastating as hearing the opposite, like a forest fire clearing out old deadfall to make way for new things to grow.

And that’s all it takes apparently. Steve yanks Eddie forward by the shirt because he has to know. 

~

In the kitchen, Robin dawdles with getting more snacks to go with more apple cider—because, as Eddie had pointed out once Steve was down for the count, getting crossfaded on champagne would not end well. 

And then Eddie had whisper-asked, while carefully supporting a lapful of her unconscious platonic soulmate, “What do I do, Robin?” and then “He’s so…!” and eventually even “I’m too gay to survive this, Buckley.”

Which is nothing he hadn’t said to her before, so she’d just rolled her eyes and retorted, “So tell him already, dummy.”

Because she knows Steve. He doesn’t listen to his heart nearly as much as he should, too convinced that it’ll get him into trouble, but that’s because he’s a dingus. 

Now, hearing Steve start to freak out in the other room, Robin grips hard at her own hands and wavers. Should she not have encouraged Eddie? Crap. Should she go back out there? Crap, she’d been so sure that Steve felt the same way that she’d forgotten it was technically possible that he might have a bad reaction. Because, like, being cool about two girls liking each other was different from another guy liking him. She doesn’t think he’d freak out about it or anything, but she also hadn’t expected Eddie to take her advice so immediately, so clearly she’s not infallible. 

Crap, she should go back out there. Panicking, Robin grabs the dish of cranberry sauce because Steve loves that wiggly, can-shaped abomination and rushes back to the living room to—

Catch an eyeful of Steve now full-on straddling Eddie, face damp with one hand tangled with his shirt and the other in his curly hair. Steve’s eyes are closed, and so are Eddie’s as they kiss so desperately they’re almost rocking back and forth. 

She’s happy for them, but… ew. 

“Missed you,” Steve gasps between kisses. “Eds—missed you—so much—”

Eddie moans into his mouth, which frankly is more than Robin needed to hear. Thankfully, though, his own hands are at a respectable middle ground between looped around Steve’s waist and reaching for his ass. “Sweetheart—‘

They seem to be working it out. Robin’s going to retreat to the kitchen and give them a minute. 

~

Their first kiss is kind of like a traffic collision, which Steve regrets immediately. (He used to be good at this, dammit.) But Eddie—I’d never let you crash—kisses readily back, slows him with a touch to his jaw and eases the pace into something less frantic, but still eager. Easing him down like the parachute he’d promised until they’re fitted together like there’s no place they’d rather be. 

Steve has never been on someone’s lap for a kiss before. Eddie is warm beneath him, against him, arms securely around him. If he’d had any doubts, they’re melting in the warmth of how safe this feels. Like this is exactly where he’s meant to be. 

And it doesn’t hurt that Eddie is a good kisser. Or that Steve on his knees over him trying to press closer and closer, which… yep, they are definitely both starting to get hard from this. Steve can feel Eddie against him, an electric point of contact that’s unfamiliar, but feels more good than scary. 

Mostly. Because he wants—god, he wants, suddenly, so much more than he had let himself even think about before—but not right now, while he’s still stoned in Robin’s living room. It’s not like Eddie expects that, right? He said he loves him.

“M’not a groupie,” Steve reminds Eddie, whining a little into his mouth with a sudden stab of jealousy and dread. This has to be real or he’s not going to survive it. 

“Never,” Eddie pants. “Stevie, sweetheart—” he steals another kiss “—none of them are you, none of them could ever.”

“So you don’t…?”

“Have a few times,” he admits, pained but earnest. “Not in weeks. Kept thinking about you.” His hold tightens possessively, another thing Steve has never been on the receiving end before but it sends a thrill up his spine. “I kept forgetting their names and saying yours. They’re not who I want.”

Steve flushes, pleased by the thought of Eddie thinking about him while getting off but limited in imagining it because… well, he’s not totally sure how it works with two guys, beyond hand stuff. How to decide who puts what where. How does it… fit? Does Eddie like to be the, uh, the one putting it in? Oh god. God, what if Eddie does want that, but his dick is huge?! Because, like, Steve is on board with the idea of a dick in his hand, he knows what that feels like inside and out, but the rest—

He takes a shaky breath and tries to stop spiraling, but. It’s a lot. “Um, I don’t exactly know what I’m doing here, Eds. Are you sure I’ll live up to… whatever you’ve been thinking about?”

“Baby,” Eddie purrs, and there’s the rockstar shining through, soothing in its confidence when Steve feels so unsure. (Even though Corroded Coffin has achieved only moderate Midwest fame so far, Steve’s always thought he has the charisma for more.) “First of all, it would be my pleasure to show you the ropes, one thing at a time. We won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with until you tell me it’s okay. And the good thing about having an overactive imagination is that, whatever you feel good about, anything we do will be straight out of my dreams.”

He winks, and Steve ducks his head with a grin, reassured by the answer even though there’s a lot he needs to wrap his head around still.  

“And second, Big Boy, I can already tell that measuring up will not be a problem.” Punctuated by a rock of his hips that, though subtle, rubs them together just right that Steve has to bite his bottom lip to stifle a moan. 

Eddie makes a little growling sound in his throat and dips in to take that lip for himself, worrying it gently before soothing it with a kiss. A surprisingly chaste one, which Steve finds as soothing as the pleasure a moment before was electrifying. 

“And third,” Eddie continues, “me and the guys have been talking about setting up home base in Indy now that we’ve gotten started. That’s close enough to visit, at least. See where this goes. Go on—” and now his face is so endearingly hopeful it makes Steve’s heart feel too big for his chest “—dates? I don’t know where you are yet, and like I said, it’s okay if you’re not either, but that’s what I want: a relationship, in as many ways as I can get.”

“Yeah,” Steve says immediately. He’d started nodding before Eddie had even finished speaking. “Yeah, I think I want that too.”

Maybe it is okay that he doesn’t have everything quite figured out yet. And Robin had to have known, somehow, what Eddie was going to bring up when he’d shooed her out of the room; she wouldn’t have left so easily if she had any objections. She probably won’t be as mad as he’d feared about being left out of the loop. 

As if summoned by the thought, they both hear Robin call loudly from the kitchen, “Are you two done getting your gay and presumably-bisexual longing out in the open out there, or should I make popcorn while your gross boy cooties are barring me from my own couch?”

Eddie snorts, and Steve starts shaking with repressed laughter—one part snickering at his best friend’s predicament and three parts relief that she doesn’t sound mad. He’s never been more grateful that they seem to share a brain, even when he doesn’t know how to unpack his own shit sometimes. 

Though, now that he’s started, there’s a lot he wants to talk with her about. Starting with, what does it mean that he’s presumably some sort of bicycle?

“Make the popcorn anyway, we’re busy,” Eddie calls, and kisses Steve again. 

Not chaste this time. Still sweet, but with a richness and depth that Steve parts his lips for eagerly. He may not know the guy part of this but he knows kissing, knows how to adjust without pulling too hard on the reins—and that’s not so different from not really having the reins at all, really. 

It���s New Year’s Eve, and Steve Harrington is on top of the fucking world. 

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[blackhairedjjun]

rebound and restoration

pairing: choi yeonjun x fem reader | genre / tropes: angst -> fluff, friends to lovers, post-breakup, non-idol au; ft. soobin + mentions of the rest of txt; reader is yeonjun's age (soobin calls reader "noona") | word count: 5.4k | warnings: post-breakup heartbreak, profanity, food, kissing

additional note: fic is mostly written but contains a few texts

summary: with his heart still aching after just getting dumped, yeonjun turns to you, one of his closest friends, for comfort. that is, until he kisses you - and your friendship starts to change.

author's notes: honestly i feel like if i don't post this soon i'll be dissatisfied with it forever and edit it endlessly and it'll never get past my drafts LOL perfect is the enemy of done!! anyway i wrote this while i was feeling stressed and insane during the holidays and wanted... an angsty kiss for whatever reason. lmao yeah

(support by reblogging banner by @cafekitsune)

when yeonjun arrives at your apartment, it’s still early in the evening; the two bowls of pho you ordered for takeout are still hot, and you’ve left your laptop open at a selection of cheesy netflix rom-coms. perhaps the selection is a bit ironic, but you mused that the feel-good escapism is just what he needs.

he pulls you into a hug and you give him an extra squeeze and a few pats on the back. you can’t help but ruffle his hair a little as he pulls away. 

“hey, jjun...”

“y/n!”

“how are you feeling?”

“ah, a bit better, i think.”

he gives you a slight smile, and you’re too relieved to notice that it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. it’s a miracle to you that he’s even smiling again two weeks after his breakup. you still remember the cracks in his voice when he called you after it had happened, the rims of his eyes red with crying when he finally crashed at your place half an hour later. that night you held him tight as he told the story to you in between sobs: hana had broken up with him over a call that lasted less than a minute. she was bored and tired of him and just stopped caring, she said, if he were a toy she could throw away if she didn’t want to play with it anymore.

you swallowed back the anger in your throat back then, though you couldn’t help the tears of your own that fell. now you push the anger back down again as you lead yeonjun to the small table at your kitchenette, one of the bowls of pho steaming in front of him. now is not the time for indignation; your friend needed comfort, and it’s comfort you will give.

yeonjun’s eyes light up at the sight of the pho. your heart swells, and you don’t hold it against him when he sits down ahead of you and picks up his chopsticks, ready to dig in. in between slurps he grins like he’s just received the best present of his life. “this is so good!” he said in between mouthfuls of noodles. “it’s been way too long since i had this.”

“i know! feels like we haven’t had this in ages.”

“remember when we tried to make our own?”

“oh god, not that!” you laugh, dropping your chopsticks. “we got impatient and that broth tasted like nothing.”

“your kitchen smelled like ginger though,” yeonjun recalls with a giggle. “it was nice visiting for a while.”

“my kitchen smelled like ginger more than the actual broth, jjun.”

“maybe we can try again one of these days? and if we mess up, at least you’ll have a nice-smelling kitchen again.”

all you can do in response is laugh, and for a moment you forget that you stopped having pho nights together when hana entered his life.

he fills you in on video game night with soobin and kai, shopping with beomgyu, and his so-called revenge gym day with taehyun; he beams with pride while describing his new weight record just as much as he does when talking about managing a hard-earned victory over soobin at tekken. you laugh along with him, knowing that his friends blocked out their schedules just to comfort him for a day. and when you talk about your new project at work and the new books you bought yourself as a treat, his eyes fill with that indescribable look you’ve seen before. you can’t quite place what it is, but it reminds you of afternoon light, of summer days, of lingering hugs after a long day together.

you don’t need to ask for yeonjun to help you clear out the table and pick up the snacks you set aside for your movie, and you make no effort to resist. there are no words exchanged: he simply places all the disposable pho bowls and chopsticks together, and you reach for a clean garbage bag and put them all in. the only communication between you is a shared look and a nod.

perhaps it’s just your imagination, but that look lingers a little longer than you’re used to, and you can’t help but give him a satisfied smile.

you’ve seen him look at hana that way, too many times to count, especially during that early-dating phase when the thrill of emotions was still high. you wondered what it was like to be on the receiving end of that gaze, for yeonjun to look at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. and you wondered if hana really was that precious 一 if she were just as precious to him as you, his best friend, if not more so.

you let yeonjun select the movie. at first you doubt your idea to present him with rom-coms, of all things, but you let out a sigh of relief when he happily chooses one of them. both of you have seen this one many times over, but you don’t mind. there’s comfort in knowing that a happy ending is guaranteed to happen.

the two of you are slouched on your couch together, the laptop balanced on a pillow between the both of you. yeonjun sits close to you, an arm around your shoulder, a gesture that he hasn’t done with you since he started dating. you let yourself lean against him (so that you can see the screen better, you tell yourself). the two of you start a running commentary on the movie 一 “why would he say that?!” “aww, they look so cute together,” “oh god, that was so stupid!” 一 and both of your laughter fills the apartment, the sound like a duet in harmony.

it’s so easy this way, you think 一 just you and your best friend in your own little corner of the world. you steal a glance at yeonjun while he’s absorbed in the final confession scene, a soft smile on his lips and his eyes gleaming with anticipation for the big kiss. a string of memories flash before you before you can help yourself.

“she said yes,” he says, his whole face flush with excitement. “she said she’ll be mine.”

his hands are on your shoulders and he gives them a gentle squeeze. “there’s no way hana can’t like you. you’re one of my best friends, i’ll make sure you get along.”

“i think hana’s mad at me,” he tells you as he fiddles with the beanie in his hands. “but don’t worry about it, we’ll talk it out, i promise.”

his head is in his hands as you sit across him from a restaurant booth. “i don’t know what i did wrong, she looked so bored through the whole date...”

you hold him close as he sobs in your arms, his whole body shaking. “sh-she said she’s... tired of me…”

“y/n?”

you snap back to reality as yeonjun glances at you, his head tilted. the ending credits of the movie have started to play. “are you okay?”

“i-i’m fine.” you reach out to touch his cheek, then hesitate. “are you okay?”

“i’m fine, y/n.” he picks up on the meaning of your words. “i know i looked really bad that night, but i’m getting better, i promise.”

“good.” your eyes meet his, and your cheeks grow warm. “we can have nights like this as many times as you want until you feel better, okay?”

“yeah, i know. i missed having nights like this, actually.”

“me too. i really liked it when we did this all the time...”

“i know. i’m sorry. hana didn’t like一”

“hey.” your hand comes up again and this time, you gently hold on to his cheek. “it doesn’t matter what she thinks anymore.”

“y/n... i’m really sorry. i feel like i neglected you, and you’ve been my friend for so long...”

tears form in his eyes, and you feel them warm against his cheek. you wipe them away with your thumb as you move closer to him. he continues to ramble as you do.

“i feel like an idiot. like a total dumbass.” the pitch of his voice begins to rise. “god, i was so convinced that hana and i were the perfect couple, that we’d be happy. i-i thought about her more than she d-did about me, y/n, and i stopped hanging out with you一 when you’ve always一”

“jjun, please don’t apologize anymore,” you say, your voice trembling. “i’ve never been mad at you over her, not even once. i just want you to feel better, okay? i... i just want to see you be yourself again.”

you want to see the yeonjun you’ve always loved.

you’ve lain awake at night wondering if he’s ever sensed your feelings for him, and if he’s ever felt the same way. on the day he told you that he and hana were officially together, you spent that night sobbing in your bed, convinced that your friend would never see you as a lover. and yet you said nothing of that night, and of other nights similar to it, because you told yourself that if hana made him happy, then you would be happy too.

and now you want more than anything to see him happy again.

yeonjun says nothing, but instead places a hand on top of the one you have resting on his cheek. you feel it trembling, but you don’t resist as he grasps your hand to intertwine his fingers with yours. he swallows hard to push back the rest of his tears, and his eyes soften. once again there’s that indescribable look of his that makes you feel light.

“y/n...”

he says your name softly, as if in reverence. his face inches closer to yours and you don’t pull away; instead you feel lighter than ever, your gaze falling to his lips as your eyes flutter shut. everything that follows feels slow, gentle; his nose brushing against yours, then your lips on his.

he kisses you slowly at first, but as you kiss him back you fill with a new fervor, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting him wrap his arms around your waist to pull your body flush against his. warmth blooms in your chest, and every movement of yours betrays your feeling: your lips moving against his, your hands making their way into his hair. you want to kiss him until the pain he feels has been replaced by the love you have for him 一 i love you, i love you, i love you.

you’re completely absorbed in him and let out a soft sigh when yeonjun snaps out of it 一 he breaks apart from you, breathing hard, eyes wide as he’s hit by what he’s just done.

“shit, y/n一” he gets off the couch, one hand running through his hair over and over again. “i’m so sorry. fuck, i shouldn’t have done that一”

you’re snapped out of your trance as you stand up to chase after him. “jjun, hey, wait! listen to me—”

he’s picking up his bag from the foot of your couch. he can’t even look at you, instead occasionally letting out a shit or two under his breath.

“yeonjun, please一”

you stand in front of him to block his way from the exit. at first his head is bowed, avoiding your gaze, but when he finally looks up his expression is solemn.

“you are not a rebound to me,” he says at last. “please don’t ever think that i just used you to make me feel better.”

“i never accused you of that! look, i’m sorry too, it was my fa一”

“i’m really sorry, but i can’t stay here anymore. i’ll make it up to you, y/n, i promise.”

“wait一”

yeonjun walks past you and before you can protest any further, he’s out your door. you push it open and try to chase after him, but after a few steps you stop, thinking better of it. what would stopping him even do?

you walk back inside and slump back down on the couch. the screen of your laptop faintly glows, and a half-eaten bag of chips has fallen to the floor. all at once the reality of what happens sinks into you: the kiss, his words, his departure.

you are not a rebound to me. the words echo in your mind.

a strange tension fills you, and you can’t even tell what emotion it’s supposed to be from: confusion, frustration, anxiety. with your whole body seemingly on edge, you grab a throw pillow from the opposite side of your couch and press it into your face.

you sob into it the tension crashes down on you in full force.

一

for the next few nights the scene replays in your dreams: yeonjun leaning in ever closer towards you, your lips meeting his in a fervent kiss 一 each night’s dream-kiss more fervent than the last 一 and him suddenly pulling away. you awaken each time just as he breaks the kiss, the shock and confusion coursing through you again, and immediately after you reach for your bedside table to check your phone.

still no text from yeonjun.

you consider texting him again, but each time you type a new message you erase it, the blinking cursor driving you mad. how would you even know what to say? do you want to apologize? to beg for his forgiveness? to ask if you can still be friends?

you hate to admit it, but every morning you lie in bed for a few moments more to allow the dream to sink in. the look on yeonjun’s face appears vivid to you, from his eyes blown wide to his mouth slightly agape. your mind travels back to the moment he breaks the kiss, as if a sudden force pushed him away, the shock of it hitting you. then it wanders to the kiss itself, the feeling of his lips soft against your own, his arms warm as they hold you by the waist…

you shake the memory away, drag yourself out of bed, and continue on with your routine: breakfast, shower, get dressed. you resist the urge to check your phone for as long as you can. you stare at the little contact photo you set of yeonjun and remind yourself: you’re his friend. you need to help him heal. 

you recount your worries to soobin over snacks one day.

“i feel like i’m being selfish,” you say in between munches of potato chips. “he hasn’t even moved on from hana”— soobin winces at the acridity you mutter her name with—“and now one of his closest friends kisses him like she’s madly in love. how is he supposed to move on? he’s hurting enough as it is.”

soobin sets aside the bag of chips you just finished. he rubs his face with his hands as he tries to choose his words carefully.

“you’re not being selfish, noona. you sound like you’re trying to be careful so that you don’t hurt him,” he says at last. “and yeonjun hyung feels just as bad about it. he feels bad that he even started the kiss, and for making you feel like a rebound. you two sound like each other, to be honest.”

“i know he feels bad, it’s just 一 i don’t know how that will fix...” you wave your hands wildly in the air, “this.”

“you can start by talking to each other?”

“he didn’t reply to my last texts. and i… i don’t know if i should text him again.”

a moment of silence. soobin opens a pack of candy and chews on it, just to give himself time to think. he fiddles with his phone as he does, absentmindedly scrolling through his old texts, when one of them catches his eye.

“so, there’s this new restaurant that beomgyu wants to check out.”

“really, soobin, what does this have to—”

“he was thinking of inviting all of us there to hang out,” he continues. “including you and yeonjun hyung. we can plan for it a week or two from now so that you have space? and then you can get used to talking to him again there. if things get awkward, i can ask beomgyu to fill in.”

you purse your lips. “i dunno, i might cry if i see his face again.”

“if you don’t feel like it, just call in sick.” soobin’s mouth twitches into a small grin as he says it — you know he’s used that excuse to get away from social situations he doesn’t want to be in. now you’re starting to see the appeal of it.

“okay. i’ll think about it.”

—

ultimately you do decide to go, and two weeks later you’re the first to arrive at the restaurant. you can feel your hands trembling as you push the door open and your heart hammering in your chest. in your head you’ve prepared what you want to say to yeonjun and you mentally rehearse your words for the hundredth time.

you slide right into the booth and take a deep breath. you check your phone to keep yourself busy, letting yourself calm down until your hands have stopped shaking. as you’re scrolling through your camera roll looking at some memes beomgyu sent you, someone slides into the booth seat opposite yours.

“hey, y/n.”

yeonjun gives you a shy smile and the nervousness in your stomach kicks into overdrive. he looks much better now; the bags under his eyes have lessened, and his smile seems genuine. still, you can’t help but remember the last time you saw him, and you shudder.

he sees your reaction and winces, averting his gaze. when he speaks, his voice is soft. “y/n... are we okay?”

the question breaks you and whatever words you have prepared fly out of your mind. as you try to grasp at them again, tears prick at your eyes.. “yeah... yeah, we’re okay,” you say. you take a gulp of water to hold back the tears. “i was never mad at you, jjun, i’ve been worried out of my mind一”

“i’m sorry i never replied to your texts.” he places his hands atop your trembling ones. “i just felt so ashamed that i didn’t know how to face you.”

“and i’m sorry i never tried texting you again, i just didn’t know what you thought of me, and i was so scared that i lost you...”

“i was so scared that i lost you.”

you sniffle. “that makes both of us then. god, we were so stupid.”

“i missed you, y/n.”

“i missed you too, jjun.”

you let out a laugh of relief and he laughs too. with the sound of his laughter melding with yours, everything else seems to melt away: the tears in your eyes, the other noises of the restaurant, the baggage of the last two weeks. sitting before you is your old friend, holding onto your hand to comfort you, laughing together with you just like you always have. 

and just as always, you want nothing more than for your friend to be happy.

“so,” you begin, giving him the most reassuring smile that you can muster, “let’s start over?”

yeonjun glances down at the table, but you can see his eyes crinkling as they usually do when he smiles. “yeah, let’s do that.”

when beomgyu enters the restaurant right afterwards, all it takes is one glance at the scene before him to understand what happened. he turns his head towards you, meeting your gaze, and you give him a nod.

it’s going to be okay.

一

the kiss becomes an unspoken part of your history together, never mentioned and never acknowledged. you stop searching for hidden meanings to it, and instead settle on the explanation that it was simply a spur-of-the-moment reaction from pent-up post-breakup emotions. it doesn’t matter to you whether or not this explanation is true; it’s the explanation that gives you the most peace of mind, and that’s what matters. as the days pass, you think of it less and less, and eventually it is filed away in your memory, like a book never checked out of the library collecting dust. 

in the meantime, you pour your energy into rebuilding both your friendship with yeonjun as well as his fragile heart. the first few hangouts with just the two of you are awkward with a tinge of melancholy, with conversations feeling a little too short. fortunately, your shared friends are there to help: you and yeonjun are invited to video game nights at soobin’s, or a cute new cafe that kai wants to check out, or just a walk around the park. the silences feel less awkward when it’s quickly filled by a joke from beomgyu or witty remark from taehyun.

from time to time you see the shine in yeonjun’s eyes disappear, even for just a moment, when he encounters something that reminds him of “the ‘h’ word” (as beomgyu refers to her): a park bench where they had a date, or a dress on a passerby that looks a lot like something she would wear. sometimes one of his friends would recognize it and quickly divert his attention elsewhere. soon those diversions occur less and less often as fewer and fewer things remind yeonjun of her.

but things don’t truly feel normal to you until a month and a half later. your project at work has gone well, and yeonjun has completed the first draft of a mixtape he’s making. just as you muse to yourself that a reward would be nice, your phone buzzes.

that afternoon you and yeonjun stroll down the shopping district a few minutes away from his house, trying on this and that. it isn’t long before you find yourself spending over your budget; it’s hard not to when yeonjun is constantly egging you to buy something you really want. “c’mon, y/n,” he whines as you put back another cute button-down on the rack. “you deserve it! you can wear it to work for the next phase of your project!”

he giggles when he sees your eyes light up at his words. “we do have another presentation for it,” you muse.

still, you draw the line when you spot an elegant tan jacket worn by one of the storefront mannequins. you stare at it longingly as if you’ve found your soulmate, and yeonjun sweet-talks you into entering the shop and trying it on. but when you see the hefty price tag on it, you sigh.

“i can’t justify this, jjun…”

“but you look great in it! and you want it so much. you’ll feel worse if you don’t get it.”

“maybe…” you glance down at the shopping bags in your hand. “i dunno, i’ve spent so much already.”

you sigh in defeat and turn back to the store exit before you can second-guess yourself. yeonjun doesn’t follow immediately, but instead watches you go as he lingers a bit longer.

later that day, the two of you sort through all the things you bought (mostly clothes and accessories, but also a vinyl for yeonjun and a novel for yourself) in between giggles and wide eyes and a shower of compliments. yeonjun puts on a completely new outfit for you and struts down his apartment like a runway model, and he pulls you up from the floor to do the same. soon you’re laughing and clapping at each other’s performances, and yeonjun even whips out his phone to take photos of each other’s best looks.

as you rummage through your haul for one more outfit to assemble, your eyes land on a familiar spot of tan fabric. your mouth falls open when you pull it out and see that jacket — the one you’re pretty sure you didn’t buy. you glance up at yeonjun and he licks his lips before forming a mischievous grin.

“jjun, is this...”

“it’s yours.”

“you didn’t have to一”

“i saw the way you were looking at it, y/n. i just had to get it for you. c’mon, put it on.”

hesitantly, you take off the jacket you’re already wearing and put on the new one. it fits perfectly, just a little loose to let air flow in, and you love how it frames your figure. yeonjun is still smiling at you, but it’s a different smile. he looks at you as if you’ve transformed in front of him.

“you look really pretty,” he says. “let me take a few pics, okay?”

he snaps a few photos of you and you pose for the camera, and a comforting warmth settles over you. if this happened a few months earlier, you would have blushed and your heart would be doing somersaults, but now all you feel is a light flutter. everything feels fit in, like the final piece of a puzzle slotting into place.

you lock eyes with yeonjun as he takes the last photo and puts his phone away. as you whisper “thank you” to him, the gleam in his eyes is reflected in your own. there it is, that indecipherable look of his that makes you feel warm.

you still love him 一 there’s a part of you that still knows that. but over the last month and a half you’ve simply learned to live with your feelings, letting them fill you with lightness for a few moments and then letting them go. feelings or not, you’re just glad to have yeonjun in your life again. even as a friend, his presence is a soothing balm against the stresses of life.

一

months later, yeonjun is sprawled on your couch again, his head on your shoulder as you scroll through your list of rom-coms on your laptop. at one point the two of you resumed your pho and rom-com nights, and you’re glad for it; few things give you as much comfort after a long week of work.

after scrolling back and forth a few times, you pause on the same movie you’ve always watched together and give him a quick look. he simply smiles.

“don’t you get sick of this one?” you ask.

“not really, the ending always feels nice. are you… tired of it?”

“no no, i— i was worried that you’re tired of it.”

“me? never.”

“perfect, ‘cause i’m not either.” you give him a knowing grin and press play.

at this point you both know this movie so well that you recite along to every line. you do the female lead’s lines, yeonjun does the male lead’s, and you even sing along to the soundtrack. yeonjun stretches out on your couch even more, his head ending up in your lap, and in the movie’s quiet moments you find yourself playing with his hair. when the big confession happens you can feel him holding his breath and then releasing it in a laugh when the two leads finally kiss.

the credits roll and he glances up at you, smiling in satisfaction. you smile too and hum along to the end credits song. as the movie ends, you let yourself bask in it: you stretch out your arms, yeonjun sits up to lean on your shoulder again, and you lay your head atop his. the two of you remain like that for a while, sitting in comfortable silence.

“don’t you ever get jealous of them?” you ask.

you feel his head shake a bit as he chuckles. “i hate to admit it, but yeah. rom-coms always make getting together look so... fun.”

“right? i wish my life was like that.”

“god, me too.”

“i swear, it drives me insane,” you huff. “every time i watch this i want to start dating again or something.”

a few more moments of silence. yeonjun lets out a soft exhale and you feel his body grow tense. the air in your apartment seems stuffier.

“speaking of which, i have to tell you something.” 

“me...?”

you’ve never heard yeonjun sound so solemn. his head weighs down on your shoulder. “y’know, i’ve been uh... thinking of dating again.”

“oh... where are you dating this time? did beomgyu set you up again?”

he shakes his head, looks up at you for a split second, then looks down at his hands. you see the tips of his ears turn pink.

“actually, i... i have someone mind. someone i want to ask out, i mean.”

with those words the feelings you’ve brushed aside for so long come back in full force. your heart beats so hard it feels like it’s slamming into your chest. when you speak, your voice shakes.

“oh... who’s the lucky one?”

“i-i’ve known her for a while. she’s sweet and fun to be around... we’ve been hanging out a lot more often these last few months. we get along really well, at least i think we do...”

“sounds like you have chemistry with this special girl,” you say, the words heavy on your tongue. the hammering of your heart floods your ears. “so what’s stopping you from asking her out?”

yeonjun sits up to face you fully. you sense the effort it takes for him to look at you 一 has he ever been like this around you before? 一 and you reach for his hands. they’re trembling, and his ears go from pink to red.

“a long time ago,” he starts, voice shaking, “i kissed her. i kissed her after my last breakup. and i wasn’t thinking straight, i was just so lonely that i wanted to be loved again 一 but i can’t do that to yo— to her, she’s one of my best friends, i don’t want yo— her to be a rebound 一 but then you said we could start over so we did and i dunno, at one point i started liking you, i fell so hard i don’t know wh一”

you interrupt him with a kiss, your lips gentle on his. you feel him kissing you back, his movements gentle as his hand comes up to hold your head in place. you find yourself pressed against him and he’s even warmer than you remember, warmer than those dreams you had so many months ago.

when you break apart, his eyes are glazed over in a look of pure admiration. 

“y/n...”

“jjun, i...” heat spreads across your face. “i’ve loved you for years.”

“then why didn’t you say anything?”

“how could i? what if you didn’t feel that way and it ruined our friendship? and with all the other guys too?” your heart is still beating fast but you let out the words while your boldness still has a hold on you. “and then you dated hana and i cried but i wanted you to be happy 一 then you broke up and you kissed me and i liked it, and i hated myself for liking it because you were 一”

yeonjun pulls you into him, arms encircling you, and as you keep rambling into his chest he soothes you with one hand combing through your hair. his other arm grips you firmly, and your own arms find a firm hold around his neck.

“i love you too, y/n,” he whispers into your hair before leaving a kiss there. “it’s okay.”

“i love you, so much...”

he pulls apart to get a good look at your face. as he sees a few tears start to roll down your cheeks, he brushes them aside with his thumb.

“so this girl,” he says, affection lacing his words, “after we kissed, she said we could start over. and we did. and i’m really glad we did, because i fell for h一 for you so hard.”

you lean your head forward so that your forehead touches his. “really?”

“really. and i...”

“do you want to kiss her again?”

yeonjun’s breath hitches and his eyes meet yours. there it is 一 that same look of his that makes you feel light. the one that, you realize, makes you feel loved.

“can i?”

“please,” you whisper.

he closes the gap between your lips and his, and this time you feel only relief and bliss.

[archive-of-the-lost]

𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 — ♡ 𝐒𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 ♡

I feel that you and Poe would work so well as friends from childhood. :D Your personalities are different enough to complement each other, but not so different to the point where Poe can't be friends with you. Your love for talking to people works well in your friendship with Poe, as he rarely approaches you even though he enjoys talking to you, and your social battery draining easily matches Poe's own, so you both manage to strike a good balance between spending time together and pulling away to recharge. Your goofy and energetic personality contrasts Poe's shy and serious character, and that's why the both of you work so well. Besides having shared interest, you often help pull Poe out of his shell, encouraging him to try new things and enjoy himself.

♡ Your enjoyment of studying and learning new stuff pairs well with Poe's intellectual personality. I can totally see you both being star students growing up, maybe even having a friendly academic rivalry. The both of you are curious and inquisitive people, shared qualities that allowed you both to bond over and form a connection.

♡ Poe shares your interest in medicine and science! The both of you often get into long conversations about these topics, eager to share your knowledge with each other. During said conversations, Poe will usually ask for your insight on his recent projects. Science and medicine is so important in the mystery genre after all.

♡ You and Poe have quality time as a main love language! Because of this, you both go on dates often. Travel constraints aren't a problem, Poe can just write the setting he wants to take you to into a short story or novel and transport you both in for a few hours. Using his ability, the both of you have had dinner at a fancy restaurant in France, explored the ruins of an old abandoned castle, visited an art gallery with exhibits Poe made up for his novel. It's quite fun.

⋘ 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠… ⋙

██ 20%  ████ 60%  █████ 80%  ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 100% ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ!

──・──・・♡ 𝐓𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞: 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬

"Keep your eyes closed." Not that it would have made a difference if you opened them, as Edgar's hands are currently covering your eyes.

You giggle. "Why? We're already in the book, aren't we?"

What will it be this time? A museum? Another art gallery, maybe one of his made up ones? A movie theatre where you both can watch something together with the hall just to yourselves?

Edgar's hands slowly move away from your face, but not before giving you a playful tap to the noise. You burst into laughter and open your eyes. The sight that greets you makes a delighted gasp escape your grinning lips. It's the playground Edgar and you used to play at all the time when you were young, your childhood safe space.

"Edgar!" You trap your now flustered boyfriend in a hug. "This... This..."

You didn't think you would be able to come back to this place again. It's been so long. It looks exactly as you remember, smells the same.

Nostalgic memories start to flood in. Playing hide and seek, chasing Edgar around the park, taking turns on the slide, making up stories with Edgar as you bob and weave around the playground. Playing until the sun begins to set, protesting when your parents come to take you home for dinner, wanting to spend more time with Edgar. Inviting Edgar over to eat with you 9 times out of 10 anyway.

"Um. You like it?" Edgar asks, shyly hugging you back.

"I love it." You grin, squeezing him until he pats your back anxiously for air.

"Good- Good to hear." Edgar wheezes out once you let him go.

There's a picnic basket by a bench nearby, a checkered blue blanket peeking out from the flap. You grab Edgar's hand and begin to eagerly drag him over. Your lunch date awaits!

[quirkyfries]

Hi there’s a tornado in my area rn but I’m spiteful like that. Random tsams/eaps headcanons be upon ye

Ruin still does those little audio log diaries. It helps manage his overflowing memory storage (read: old age = more memories to store) without compressing data files.

Bloodmoon sleeps with dog toys. Otherwise, they’d probably chew through whatever bedding material they had chosen that night. This was Ruin’s idea.

Eclipse can’t sleep with lights on in a room. Ruin can’t sleep without a light. The makeshift solution is a sleeping mask for Eclipse, but their actual compromise is a star projector.

Eclipse has to know where everyone is most of the time, especially after Charlie came into the picture. This is usually done with cameras and tracking via fazbear systems, but it’s an issue he has to work on, as it’s just a method to make him feel better about security now that there are people he cares about. At least one person has commented on there being a new nightguard.

Dark sun finds thrillers tacky, and prefers thought-provoking mysteries, bonus points for romance.

Most of them carry some kind of sanitizing wipe packet. For daycare attendants, these are for sticky messes and children. For those more familiar with tools, these are for tougher grime and are not suitable for sensitive (children’s) skin. Solar has both.

The eclipses (Eclipse, Solar, Ruin) are the most prone to damaging their rays. Eclipse sometimes hits doorways and doesn’t bother to fix cracked rays. Ruin is small enough for humans to reach his head. Solar peels the paint off of his. All three will pull or squeeze their rays in times of extreme stress, to varying degrees. Lunar is an exception for lack of rays. (Similarly, Sun fidgets with his rays, which is the source of this trait.)

While there are exceptions, Suns prefer tactile stimulation, Moons auditory, and Eclipses have no strong preference. Earth likes social interaction.

Animatronics have personalized UI that makes sense to them, which serves as their access point to their internal folders, like memory files, downloaded items, and executable programs. Bots that share an operating system/“brain” have the same UI. Diagnostics, software updates, and safety modes all require additional hardware (computers, parts and service devices, fazwrenches) to complete. Mindscapes are in AI chips, and multiple AIs in one mindscape happen when multiple AIs share the same operating system. Visual feed can be projected onto other screens with HDMI cables and vice versa, which can sometimes show that bot’s UI depending on what it is. For a more direct example of this think of the battery and blue borders you see in Security breach when Gregory is hiding inside Freddy.

Safety mode disconnects that bot from the Fazbear Ent. local network, meaning no tracking, no communication via local networks (which generally aren’t private anyway, most bots with access to phones prefer those), and no access to files that aren’t stored in that bot’s drive. This is meant to isolate a bot’s systems from the main network in case of a security breach (hah), make transportation of bots between locations easier, and make maintenance a smoother affair as there is no outside interference during the process. For the bots themselves, this is the equivalent of turning off your phone and going outside I mean focusing only on what’s in front of you instead of what’s going on in your area/social network. It’s possible to be stuck in safety mode. Depending on how much of a bot’s system relies on Fazbear Ent. Networks to function (such as a bot’s memory being stored in a Cloud, which is also ill advised between the bots themselves,) this can be mean a temporary personality/memory reset until those files get reconnected again. Bots do not need to be connected to the Fazbear ent networks to function, but it generally makes access to software updates easier due to being recognized as a company entity. It is possible for a private network to exist, but it’s considered foreign by Fazbear systems and can be more trouble than they’re worth. Moon and Eclipse have private networks shared with close friends and family for different purposes. Moon’s is mostly for emergency backups, and Eclipse’s is for security.

Animatronic’s memories are stored in the hard drives in their bodies. It’s possible to offload memory files into networks (Cloud) or external storage systems. If another bot had access to these clouds or external storages, they could experience the memories stored in them. Memory files include visual and auditory data, like a movie. AI/personality chips are the equivalent of a soul in that the AI is the product of a learning AI having experienced environments that supplied them information about the world AKA an Ai that developed a personality beyond their base programming, but they do not carry memories. For example, Eclipse V3-V4 is an Eclipse AI given incomplete memories, creating a disconnect in the AI’s learned behaviors and what it perceives as the source of that behavior, resulting in an incomplete backup. Backups are static/unchanging copies of integral memory files and the accompanying AI (As is in the moment that they are backed up.) Backups need to be updated as the animatronic it’s for develops.

[pastelwitchling]

I have an angsty prompt that has been on my mind for awhile.

Alex blames himself for Jesse ruining Michael's hand.

So, when he loses his leg it feels like some sort of karmic retribution. Alex feels like he deserved it. Michael finds out that Alex feels this way and loses his fuckin' mind.

@ashleymarie1684

***

Alex was a very protective person. It had taken Michael a good few years to notice that, while he and Alex had been keeping a distance between them that neither of them had wanted, Alex had been fighting like hell on the sidelines to make sure Michael was always safe. It was like a splash of cold water to find out that Alex’s reenlistment, his entire year dismantling Project Shepherd, his whole fight against his father and the courage he’d built to do it in the first place had been for Michael.

He should’ve been smug and basking in the attention, but it was humbling to know how much Alex dedicated himself to him.

“Tell me what you want,” he said one morning into Alex’s hair. They were having their usual lazy Sunday, lying across the couch while an old Disney movie played, with Alex stretched out on Michael’s chest, his ear against Michael’s heartbeat and his eyes fluttering as he gently dozed off to the warm autumn morning.

"Hmm?"

Michael smiled against Alex’s crown. He rarely got to see his love this relaxed, and it was so gratifying to know he could only do it because he was so at peace here, in Michael’s arms. Michael tightened his hold on him, and buried his face in Alex’s hair.

Alex chuckled sleepily. “Are you smelling me?”

“What? Like I’ve never done it?”

He burst into giggles. “That’s not an excuse!” but he cuddled deeper into Michael’s chest anyway, tightening his arms around his waist.

Michael closed his eyes and held him tight. He loved him. He loved him he loved him he loved him, he loved him so much it hurt. He’d felt this intense, overwhelming need for Alex since he was seventeen, but he’d thought that after getting to have him in every possible way, he’d thought that after marriage, that need would dim or be a little more manageable. Instead, Michael felt suffocated by it, like no matter how much he kissed Alex, how hard he squeezed him, how much he worshipped his body and mind and heart and soul – there was never going to be a release. He hoped there wasn’t.

“Tell me what you want,” he repeated. “For your birthday next month, Alex, tell me what you want.”

Alex groaned under his breath. “Who cares?” he mumbled.

“I care, smartass,” he said, and Alex’s body shook with quiet laughter. Michael was going to die. “Tell me. Whatever it is, it’s yours.”

“Okay,” he said. “You. I want you.”

Michael dug his fingers into Alex’s ribs. “You already have me. Pick something else.”

“No.”

“Alex, just tell me what you want.”

“You.”

“You’re such a bastard.”

“I only want you.”

“Pick something else,” he said, “or I’ll stop cuddling you.”

Alex scoffed, completely unthreatened at Michael’s bluff. “Yeah, okay.” He squeezed Michael tighter anyway.

“I’m in a good mood,” Michael said, slipping a hand into Alex’s hair and trying not to moan at the soft strands. “I will literally give you anything you ask for. Think.”

Alex thought. Michael wondered if he would just refuse to answer, or maybe he would insist on his original response, but slowly, Alex looked up at him, folding his hands on Michael’s chest and resting his chin there.

“Anything?”

He was still smiling, but some of the humor in his voice was gone. Michael knew that whatever he said next was going to be important.

He traced a hand down to Alex’s jaw, and his heart thrashed in his chest when his husband’s eyes closed and he followed the touch. Michael bent down to briefly press his lips to Alex’s.

“Anything,” he swore in a whisper.

Alex’s eyes were still closed, and he took a second to swallow before he said, “I want you to forgive me.”

Michael’s brows furrowed. “For what, baby?”

Alex’s shoulders fell, like he didn’t think he would actually have to say it, but he covered Michael’s hand on his cheek, side-eying it pointedly. Michael’s heart fell into his stomach.

“That’s not funny, Alex.”

“Michael, you don’t have to do that,” he said quietly, looking down onto Michael’s chest, his hand still holding Michael’s own. “You don’t have to pretend anymore.”

“Pretend?”

“That it wasn’t my fault,” he said. Michael stopped breathing. “You don’t have to pretend you don’t blame me –”

“Did I ever say anything to make you think that?”

Alex clenched his jaw, and shook his head. “N-Never mind, forget it.”

“Alex –”

“I – I was kidding,” he started sitting up, terrifying Michael. “Just forget it.”

“Where are you going? Don’t get up,” he said, grabbing Alex’s arm and pulling him back in against him. “Don’t pull away like that.” He cupped his cheeks. “C’mon, just talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“I’m not,” he insisted, taking Alex’s chin between his fingers and forcing their gazes to meet. “Alex, why would you think what happened to my hand was your fault?”

Alex shrugged, and for a second, he didn’t look like he would say, then, so quietly that Michael almost missed it, he murmured –

“That’s why we were apart so long, wasn’t it?” Even quieter, “That’s why you chose Maria?”

Michael stared. He wanted to reassure Alex that he had never chosen Maria, that everything he’d done had been for him, that he had never for a single second blamed Alex for what his father had done.

But was that the truth? When Alex had come back to Roswell after ten years away and he’d revealed his lost leg, all Michael had wanted to do was hold him and kiss him until he forgot his injuries and beg him never to leave again. Instead, he’d been too used to being angry. Too used to grieving and emptiness. He’d been bitter and cruel.

He searched his memories for moments of kindness, moments he’d shown Alex how much he loved him and wanted him there. That whole time, he’d only thought of wanting to forget, wanting to leave the darkness behind, wanting to stop the nightmares that had always come tied to Alex. He hadn’t spared a single thought to how Alex might’ve felt.

“It was because of me,” he breathed, shocked to only now discover what seemed so obvious. “You . . . you blamed yourself because of me.”

Alex frowned, like he’d thought Michael had already known this a long time ago. That they were past this. He’d always been so much smarter like that.

He did sit up this time. “I forgave you for Maria already, Michael,” he promised. “I forgave you a long time ago, that’s not what this is.”

“I never thought of it,” he admitted, sitting up as well because he needed to touch Alex. “I never thought of how you would feel when I walked away like that, I . . . I always thought you were too good for me anyway, I thought you knew you were too good.”

“Michael,” Alex said softly.

“That’s why I did what I did, Alex,” he swore, desperately grabbing Alex’s hips to keep him close. “I was so scared that you would see how far ahead you were. I was scared you’d realize that I’d never be good enough for you.”

“Stop it.”

“I couldn’t get past what your dad had done,” he confessed in a whisper, and Alex fell silent. “I couldn’t get past it because I hated him, Alex. I hated him and I thought he was a monster, and I hated that you kept listening to him. I hated that he mattered more than me.”

“Michael,” he said, aghast, “he never –”

“I know,” he shut his eyes. “I know that. I’ve always known that, baby. But knowing that and admitting it are two different things, and admitting that you loved me more meant admitting how much I’d failed you. It meant admitting that I’d abandoned you to him because why would you want to stay with someone who was too scared to give you a home? Jesse commanded you to stay. I never even asked.”

Alex didn’t seem to know what to say to that, and Michael reached up, cupping his face. “I didn’t blame you for wanting a dad, Alex. I could never blame you for that. I wouldn’t have blamed you even if you’d loved him. I’m not forgiving a damn thing because it wasn’t your fault. Say it, say those words.”

“Michael –”

“Say it, Alex,” he encouraged gently, despite the whirlwind of emotion in his chest. “Look at me, and say it.”

Alex searched Michael’s face, as though searching for the concession and secret resentment. When he didn’t find it, his eyes turned glassy and he swallowed, his lower lip trembling, and suddenly, Michael saw the weight he’d been carrying on his shoulder. Had he been in this much pain all this time?

“It . . .” Alex started, the words choking his throat, and Michael held him tighter before he tried again. “It wasn’t . . . my fault . . . it wasn’t.”

A tear rolled down his cheek and he heaved a long sigh, that weight finally lightening. Michael forced himself to stay strong and steady. Alex needed him too much now.

“It wasn’t my fault,” Alex’s voice broke, and he shut his eyes, his cries silent but making his whole body shake. Michael pulled him in and held him tight, running a hand up and down Alex’s spine, his other hand fisting his hair.

Michael pushed his face into the strands and breathed in his scent, content to hold his husband for as long as it took, even as his own eyes burned.

“That’s my boy,” he whispered. After a long few minutes, he promised, “It’s okay. I’ll let you pick something else.”

The choked out laugh he got in response went right to mending the cracks in his heart.

***

Turns out writing fic is just about the only writing I can manage when I'm stressed out about homework. So uhh. Yeah. Anyway, if you have any prompts, please send them through my tumblr inbox. I need all the fics I can get right now.

[jermer10]

Heya! Was wonderin if ye could do a little drabble for Scout with a GN!S/O who's like pretty new to the team but is hella smug and overall just sorta acts alot like him but more chill and laid back? If this isn't exactly yer cup 'o tea or ye just dunno how to write this request, feel free 'ta ignore this!:]

Have a nice day/noon/afternoon/evening/night !!

TF2 hey, stranger | scout x reader

gn reader | as a scout enjoyer myself i LOVE this ask! i decided to write it as more of a slow burn-ish fic, hope you enjoy, anon!

drabbles under the cut :P

He had to rack his brain for reasons he was supposed to hate you. The team loved you, how could they have not? You radiated an energy Scout had only attempted to project his entire life. Maybe that's why. Maybe it was jealousy, how you managed to embody everything he wanted to be and more. But he couldn't really hate you, not in the traditional sense. You were still the last thought going through his head every night, the first person he wanted to see every morning, the person he assigned to the pillow he would squeeze to his chest late at night. He had even stolen one of your shirts to use as a pillowcase. Yeah, a better term for what he was would have been whipped.

It felt routine, waking up, walking into the kitchen, and seeing you and some other teammate laughing up a storm, getting closer, feeling his own presence in the structure of the team becoming increasingly irrelevant. If he wasn't the cocky asshole, who was he? This morning was different. He had awoken early, around 5am, as far as he could make out on the alarm clock next to his bed, anyway. He couldn't bother getting dressed, the only mercs who he knew that would be up wouldn't care, the last thing on his mind right now was you. His throat was phlegmy, a sour taste permeating his tongue, and all he wanted was to brush his teeth and drink a cool glass of water.

The stairs from the team barracks to the kitchen creaked under the weight of his footsteps, it's odd that he never noticed it before. He had become a lot more perceptive after meeting you. Turning into the kitchen/dining area, he spots you sitting on a barstool in front of the kitchen counter, mug in one hand and some random comic in the other. His face heats up, you turn and smile at him. A warm smile, the kind that makes every muscle in his body soften. The safe kind of smile that you wouldn't expect from someone so energetic and lively. "Morning," You spoke in a low tone. Scout was taken aback, sure, everyone was still asleep, but you were being so....so caring? And to him of all people? Weren't you supposed to dislike him as much as he disliked you?

You continued to stare, a slight nervousness in the way your eyes creased, your smile had began to falter. Something he had never seen from you before. Then he realized he had been staring at you, inner monologuing for far too long. "Oh, uh, g'mornin', sorry I didn't think anyone would be up this early...." He trailed off, trying to come up with some excuse as to why he was standing in the kitchen he had been dining in for years longer than the person in front of him. Your face softened at his answer, "Oh! It's fine.....I don't own the kitchen." You laughed on those last words, eyes resting back onto your comic. Scout felt the heat rush back into his face, yeah, this is why he didn't like you. You were quick tongued, always having some sort of smart assed response to him. It's clear why you and Spy got on well.

His face twisted into something between a frown and a scowl, you took no notice, sipping whatever liquid was in your mug. It smelt of coffee, and the deodorant you had been using since you begun working for mann co. He knew it was yours, the smell comforted him, if anything. The shirt he had stolen from your laundry basket in the downstairs washing room was beginning to lose that smell, and he had considered returning it for a while so that he could steal it back after a couple of wears. God, he was such a creep. "Are you going to continue standing there staring at me, or are you gonna grab something to eat?" You smirked to yourself, eyes flickering up at him before returning to your reading material.

"Fuck off." The words came to him before he could even think, he clasped a hand over his mouth in shock. You looked up. But you weren't upset, you seemed more amused if anything. "I beg your pardon?" A grin graced your features, Scout swallowed thickly, eyebrows furrowing, hands becoming clammy with the heat his body gave off. "Fuck...off..." Scout could barely get the words out. He was nervous, if you were as chill as you presented yourself then surely you wouldn't really care, that you'd just laugh him off and return to your book. But you didn't. You continued to stare, eyes boring into his skull, grin growing wider. "I like you, Jeremy." You spoke sweetly, not a trace of anger in your words.

A week later he had continued thinking about that interaction. He avoided you like the plague, the only words spoken in your presence being on the battlefield. Surely, you couldn't have meant it like that. Surely, you had been teasing him, trying to make him uncomfortable, one of the other mercs must have tipped you off on his crush, despite the fact that no one actually knew. Until he woke up again, this time around 2am. Obviously, you wouldn't be awake. It was the middle of the night, and even if he did encounter you he could just ignore you. His bedroom felt far too warm, and his bedsheets felt far too heavy. He decided he needed to get up and grab a glass of water.

There you were, sitting in your usual bar stool, upper body draped over the counter, staring at the mug in front of you. You looked up tiredly, eyes resting on the boy, and giving him a weak smile. "Hey, stranger." He ignored you. Well, he tried to. He could feel your eyes on him as he grabbed the glass from the cabinet, and filling it with lukewarm tap water. "It feels waaaay too hot tonight, right? Like it's the middle of February, it should be way cooler than this," You mumbled he found himself agreeing with you. Wordlessly nodding his head, eyes glued to the linoleum flooring. "Are you mad at me?" You finally asked, cutting whatever tension he perceived to be between the two of you with a butchers knife.

"I dunno....I guess?" He felt annoyed, of course he was mad at you. Was his ignorance and one word responses not obvious to the fact? You looked....hurt. Something that made him feel sick. He didn't want to hurt you. "What did I do?" You were quick to the point. "Does it matter? Nothin's gonna change even if I do tell ya', and besides, you didn't seem to have a problem with me ignoring ya' before." The word vomit was rising in his chest, one backhanded or smartassed response from you and all of his feelings for you would spill out. That's not how he wanted to tell you, not like this, not when you're hurt. Not when he's upset. You must have gathered as much, because you stood up, the legs of the chair making a quiet scraping noise against the floor, and you walked out.

It wasn't until a month later when he met you in the kitchen again. You seemed off, still your usual smug self with the other mercs to a point, but when the topic of Scout would come, that confident demeanor would falter. He felt like he was the only person who noticed it. It was 4am, he had been waking up every other night in the hope that he would see you there. Tonight he got lucky, you were rummaging through the fridge, the light illuminated every inch of your skin. Scout went flush, obviously you hadn't expected anyone to visit the kitchen, that, or you weren't planning on staying in there for long. Your underwear looked good on you. "Oh- fuck! Scout, you scared the shit out of me!" You closed the fridge with a start, seeing the boy looming over you.

"Uh, sorry." He cursed himself for the lackluster response, and for scaring you. "Can...can we talk?" He felt awkward, talking was his strong suit in some ways, and his hubris in others. "Yeah, uh, just lemme pour us some water..." You looked away, grabbing two glasses from the cabinet. Scout sat at the bar stool this time, twiddling his thumbs together in anticipation. You stood before him, sliding the glass across the counter towards him chastely. You didn't seem to care that he saw you like this, he supposed that it came with the personality. "Look, I'm sorry for bein' such a douchebag, I just...." He was looking for the words in your eyes, he could see something swelling in them. Love? Hopefully.

"I have a crush on you, dude." You spoke for him, looking down at your own cup. Your face was red, and with the way you started fidgeting with the hem of your underwear, it was clear you had begun to feel insecure. Scout knew the feeling, but this being the third time you had seen him topless, with only his socks and boxers on, he didn't really mind. "Yeah." He managed to breathe out, setting the glass down on the table and resting his hand on his chin, hand covering his mouth. He stared at something, anything other than you. "I've liked you for a while....I just- I know you feel....threatened? by me. It isn't a nice feeling. I can't control my personality....I just..I saw you and I thought that maybe we were the same? And when you started to ignore me...I dunno. It felt like that small confession I made just...made shit awkward."

Jeremy couldn't help but grin. Here you were, the ever confident y/n, wearing your heart on your sleeve for him. You knew how he had felt, he didn't even have to tell you. You just knew. He felt like an ass, but the slight power trip he had knowing that he made you feel just as nervous as you did to him....it was relieving in a way. You looked at him, grin coming to your face in turn. "God, I feel kinda stupid now." You laughed lightly. Scout's heart felt like it was going to explode. "We should make out." It didn't mean to come out like that, but you weren't deterred. He leant over the table, disregarding the empty glasses and pulling you in.

You felt soft, your lips tasting like whatever lip balm you had been using, the smell of your deodorant overpowering his senses. He tugged lightly on your hair with his right hand, his left grasping at the back of your neck in a desperate way to keep you close. Your hands wrapped around his neck, fingers digging into the soft flesh, feverishly you moved your lips against his. It felt like a dream to Scout, the way he had finally gotten you here, now. "D'you...wanna......date....." He managed to get out between kisses. You pulled away, eyes heavy, face red and messy. "Yes." And you pulled him in again.

[blackjackkent]

Bellara convo! 😍

Given the business with Cyrian it's kind of a tossup if this will be a cute conversation or an angsty one. Certainly Helena is expecting angsty, because she's half-convinced herself that there's no way Bellara would want to be with her given that she's going to have to be involved in the likely death of Bellara's brother.

As it turns out, though - it's both! \o/

"Oh - hey, Rook," Bellara says, as Helena edges cautiously into her room. She's bent over the projector for the Nadas Dirthalen, fiddling with something small between her fingertips.

Helena smiles slightly, instinctively, just hearing her voice. "What're you working on?" she asks.

"Oh." Bellara looks up from her fiddling hastily. "It's part of that artifact. You know, from the ritual." She steps down off the small stool, holding the relic out in Helena's direction. "I wanted to see how they did what they did. What it meant," she explains.

She jerks her head, indicating the ancient projection next to her. "Tried asking that thing," she says ruefully. "It won't tell me."

"The knowledge of the great Anaris is--" the projection begins.

"Athim!" Bellara snaps. At once, the projection winks out, silence falling. Bellara sighs. "Least I figured that out," she mumbles. "How to make it go away, I mean."

Her shoulders slump and she looks down at the floor, the attempt at her usual energy fading abruptly. "Damn it," she mutters. "We were getting through to Cyrian. He almost listened..."

"He was listening to *you*, Bellara," Helena says quietly. "Because you're his sister."

Bellara's despair is obvious, and she reaches a hand forward hesitantly; she's not sure what she expects, but Bellara grips onto her hand abruptly like a lifeline, squeezing it tight.

"He was my brother," she says, her voice thickening with the effort to keep her emotions in check. "My only brother. And just for a moment... he was my brother again." She swallows, and her hand falls from Helena's back to her side. "Then he wasn't. Then he was the person I might have to--"

Her voice cracks and she falls silent for a long time.

"I don't think I can, Rook," she finally says, barely above a whisper. "Do that."

You may have to, Helena almost says. It's true, after all, and they both know it. Anaris and Cyrian are a danger to every Dalish in Arlathan, and maybe beyond. But... she can't make the words come out. She's managed optimism - or at least humor - in plenty of terrible scenarios thus far; she can't do worse for Bellara. Not now.

"It's not gonna come to that," she says firmly. "We'll talk him down somehow."

Wish I had any idea how...

It's a platitude, and of course Bellara knows that. But... it does get a small smile out of her anyway, the slightest expression of comfort. And that's enough to send a bubble of warmth through Helena's heart.

"Well," Bellara says after a short pause, with a visible straining effort towards a conversational tone, "either way, we'll be able to find them."

Helena blinks. "How?"

Bellara's eyebrows shoot up. "Oh!" she says. "I didn't tell you. Right." Her voice takes on a bit more of its usual energy now, as she fumbles with the small relic she was examining. "The artifact. Couldn't figure out how it did it. Made those demons, I mean. But I attuned its resonance. And I'll know where they are, next time. Before they finish."

(A/N: Love me some fantasy technobabble. XD )

Helena can't help a quiet smile in spite of herself. This is the part of Bellara she loves best - excited and energized and intelligent - but she can see how the grief and fear are muffling it. She wants to do whatever is needed to bring it all back to the forefront... but she isn't sure how.

"I'm here for you," she says softly, and there's emotion in her voice that she doesn't know how to articulate in words. She's not good at serious conversations, but she's never felt like this with anyone else, and she sees it all on the brink of slipping away in the avalanche of this tragedy. "No matter what happens."

Bellara smiles sadly. "Thank you, Rook," she murmurs. "That helps. Because we need to stop him. Cyrian, I mean. And... if we can't convince him to step away..."

Her throat convulses and she looks away abruptly again, and is quiet for a few moments that feel like an eternity.

Then she looks back, meeting Helena's eyes.

"Rook..." she says slowly, nervously, "what you said before... about us..."

Helena's heart gives a sudden swoop into her stomach. This is it. This is what she's been afraid of--

But Bellara's words surprise her. "Are you sure?" the young elf asks softly. "That you still want that, I mean?" She shifts her weight, wringing her hands together. "With everything I've got going on... with Cyrian, I mean..."

(A/N: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH LET'S GOOOOOOOOOO <3 <3 <3 <3 )

Helena stares at her, for a moment too thrown to speak. That's what Bellara is concerned about? She's having no second thoughts, but is instead worried that Helena is?

It is not the first time she has witnessed Bellara's streak of self-deprecation, her inability to believe that Helena - that anyone - might value her so much. But that knowledge only makes Helena want to prove it to her more.

Bellara has been the brightest spot in this whole damn horrible endeavor. Their conversations, and their cautious dates of late, have been the breaths of air as Helena struggles to keep her head above water. The feeling in her heart when she looks at Bellara has long since moved from simple affection, though the word for it in truth still feels too big to say out loud.

But she has to say something, something that leaves no doubt for either of them.

"Of course I'm sure," she says, quietly, firmly, her eyes deliberately steady, resisting the urge to flick them away in shyness. "I'm here for you. No matter what."

(A/N: eeeeeeeee)

And Bellara's eyes widen and her mouth drops open in a sudden smile that seems as if it lights the whole room. Certainly it lights all the dark, weary places in Helena's heart, puts a surge of energy through her as if she's been struck by lightning.

"Okay," she says, and that simple word seems as if it carries an ocean full of meaning. "Just... wanted to be sure." She's flushed a little, and now looks away, fidgeting again with the artifact in her hands.

"Anyway. I should get back. To work, I mean," she says hastily. "I don't think we have much time." But in spite of the terrible work ahead, she can't quite keep from smiling, and glancing sideways at Helena a few more times as she turns to leave.

And Helena carries the memory of her smile through the rest of the day, warm and comforting in the back of her mind.

[bigskydreaming]

hello, i hope you are having a good day i always found it odd that barely any fics set during the time include the titans being defensive on dick's behalf or even just clark being more vocally critical of bruce's actions towards dick instead of just silently disapproving and supporting dick separately and i loved your writing here.

i was wondering if you were planning on sharing more of this one shot? i understand if you didn't get time to follow up on it or simply didn't feel up to do it and that's completely okay and i respect your time and wishes especially regarding your own projects. i was just wanted to ask if this one shot is still in the works? it is completely okay if it is not, i love the part you have already posted and am grateful to you for the content regardless of the continuation status.

this is the one shot i was asking about : https://www.tumblr.com/bigskydreaming/680926255284125696/bigskydreaming-from-a-one-shot-im-working-on-set?source=share

have a great day, much much love <3

Thanks for the ask! Real life has been chaotic for me the last half a decade or so, lmfao (at least) so I have zero consistency or as much leeway to focus on writing when and where I like. So I mostly just wing it and put down on paper whatever springs to mind when I do squeeze in some time/energy for a writing session, and I have so many projects, original and fanfic, that this tends to be all over the place. So there's really not much production of steady updates or even complete one-shots, just a bunch of slowly added to projects in general which HOPEFULLY means the day I manage to actually cement some stability that isn't just wishful thinking, I'll be in a pretty good position to finish up a lot. *Shrugs* That's the hope anyway.

So I really can't commit to when that might be or how off until it literally happens and I'm actually posting and updating regularly, lol, because I've tried predicting that and failed disastrously.....so I'm just trying not to psych myself into never bothering to add to any of my projects and just taking things one day at a time.

THAT SAID. I can say that of those open and sporadically added to projects, the majority are either original stuff, old TW fics, or Dick Grayson-centric works. I have stuff in other fandoms but those three areas have always remained my most consistent and prolific file folders of content.

And of my Dick Grayon fics, this one is in my Top Five of most regularly worked on one-shots/closest to completion. I have a soft spot for it and never lack for inspiration (just momentum) because its SUCH a personal hot button scenario/prompt for me. It is a one-shot but it has five different sections, a one-on-one convo/confrontation between Bruce and Donna, Roy, Wally, Garth and Lilith respectively. It should be a pretty good-sized length when done (between 10K-20K most likely) and I have the Donna, Wally and Garth sections all done....its just the Roy and Lilith ones that I'm not done with there but they are the two largest sections by far, so genuinely can't estimate how much longer it'll take, with any accuracy.

But any one-shot I'm over halfway done with like. Haunts me, lmao, in the sense of "why don't you finish me, you've done so much work on me already," and this one is particularly loud and pesky so....again, can't say when, I'll be lying and/or wrong, but in terms of WHICH projects are most likely to someday see the light of completion, I'd rank this one in the Top Five, easy.

Again, thanks for the ask! Its always nice and inspiring to know that there will still be people interested in reading some of this stuff whenever I do finally manage to make writing the priority it once was/I'd like it to be!

[theartoflovingthomashunt]

Only Her

[All Thomas Hunt x Alex Spencer Masterlists] [Red Carpet Diaries]

Pairing: Thomas Hunt x Alex Spencer (F!OC)

Book: Red Carpet Diaries

Word Count: ~450

Rating: General: no warnings, just fluff

Synopsis: Thomas and Alex enjoy a quiet sunset at the beach. (Set around mid RCD 3 as Thomas is still struggling to find his next project, but he's coming to terms with it)

The once brilliant sun dipped lower on the horizon. Its rays scattered through the atmosphere, painting the sky with strokes of oranges, pinks, and purples. The ocean below mirrored the beauty of the sky in its dark surface. The gentle waves lapped against the sandy shore of the secluded beach, almost drowning out the distant cries of the seagulls catching their dinner.

Alex rested her head on his shoulder, nuzzling closer as the cool breeze swept over the waters. It was truly a beautiful sight, and one she was grateful to be able to share with him. 

Thomas laced his fingers with hers, his thumb brushing softly over hers. His gaze flickered down toward the woman who would soon be his wife, a title he hadn't expected to fill, but she was different, or maybe he was different because of her. Either way, the future he expected was forever changed. He wondered if that also included the path of his career. It was a fear that had been slowly consuming him, eating away at him day by day, moment by moment. Yet, here, with her—the corner of his lip twitched up at the thought—with her, it was always easier. Between her and this view—his gaze fell once more to the serene landscape before them—here with her and no distractions, just the quiet song of the earth, he could breathe. 

He exhaled softly, allowing his breathing to sync with the tides. As they rolled out, he let go of the weight of his artistic doubts and fears that he'd never find his next project. He had to trust that inspiration would come when the time was right... and if it didn't. He shook the thought away and pressed a kiss on the top of her head. If it didn't, it would be okay. He had learned there were more important things than work. She was the one thing he truly needed to be happy—only her. He could get through anything with her by his side. 

Her attention shifted to his thought gaze, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "You okay?"

He met her gaze, nodding softly in reply. "I have everything I need right here."

The salty scent of the sea swirled around them. Her hair danced across her face in reply, tickling her features. A slow smile spread across her face as she shook her head, tossing her hair back.

"Let me," Thomas offered. His fingers gingerly brushed the loose hair strands away, tucking them back behind her ear. His hand lingered on her cheek, cradling her face.

She rested her hand over his, guiding his lower across her lips. She pressed a tender kiss to his palm. "I love you," she whispered.

He rested his forehead against hers. "I love you, too, my Alex." His lips brushed over hers, savoring the salty taste on her lips.

A/N: While I'm still desperately struggling with writer's block, I did manage to write this. It took 3 days to write 450 words, but here we are. A couple years ago when I had writers block, I started a series of drabbles with the theme of "forehead kisses", then I did a "holding hands" series, so I'm trying a stolen moments/brushing hair back series. I can't promise I can get through it, but my hope is to write really short scenes with that tender touch as a focus for each of my pairings to just try to write something!

Anyway, thank you for reading ❤️❤️❤️

[emmettkane]

🌻 March Update 🍀

Greetings, greetings, all ye fools, come round again to my carnival of rad bullshit!

It has been a busy month for yours truly, but I managed to get some cool stuff out the door anyway! More on that: right now!

Itch Update!

As I rapidly draw near to the completion of my first solo game dev project, Derelict (update below), I have also decided to shine up my Itch.io page! If you’re looking forward to seeing my projects, go through the link and give me a follow~

Book Sale!

The Little Paragons and Ghost Bricks are going on sale from March 2nd to March 8th on Smashwords at a whopping 50% off! If you’ve been on the fence, now is the time to give them a look! If you’re still unsure, you can check out the free previews of each story available through my Ko-fi store first!

Other Projects?

Ghost Houses, the sequel to Ghost Bricks, is now past the timelining process and onto its first draft! I’ll keep the details to myself, but Asher fans have a lot to look forward to~

On the flip-side, Derelict is under some amount of delay. It’s 80% of the way there, but my college workload has been squeezing me pretty badly 😔. In any case, I’m shooting to have it done by the end of March, but only time will tell!

Summary

That’ll do! I have all the projects I can manage at once, between writing, game dev, and personal art, it now remains a matter of patience and effort.

If you want to see how that patience and effort pays off (or watch me go mad in the process) follow me here, and if you’re just worried about my books, I have an email list you can hop onto~

See y’all next month, and take care!

[faegoddessog]

19: Kindred spirit

Ok loves, I've decided to try something to stretch myself creatively with this challenge. I'm gonna dribble my drabble and see if I can tie each theme into an actual story that I'll write day by day! We'll see how it goes! Wish me luck!

Here is my ongoing masterlist of this project.

My other works are here if you are interested!

Check out the fun challenge here by @slowsweetlove . Feel free to jump in too!

19: Kindred spirit 

“I’m sorry Cal, I’m shit with my phone, you know that,” Austin is turning a little red. “It doesn’t mean I don’t think or care about you. I’m just…”

“I know man, I just miss you is all,” Callum’s voice softens and he squeezes Austin’s hand. 

You can’t help but like Callum, you like the way he doesn't let Austin get away with anything just because he’s gorgeous. Callum is pretty too, taller than Austin, dark hair and wide shoulders. 

As you witness their conversation, it doesn’t take you long to realize that Callum is flirting with Austin, though you aren’t sure that Austin realizes it. It’s the tone of voice, the sparkle in his eye  and the way he manages to touch him so frequently.

Midway through the meal, Austin excuses himself to use the bathroom. 

“So, what is going on between you and Austin?” Callum good-naturedly cuts to the chase. 

“So far mind-altering sex,” you figure you might as well be honest, considering what you hope to cook up. “It may be more. It’s too soon to tell. Though I might ask the same about you two,” you point at him with a little smirk.

“Yeah well….” he doesn’t deny it. 

“Have you guys?” you ask pointedly, there isn’t time to beat around the bush. 

“Oh, he and I? Nah, not yet anyway. I’m not usually into guys, but he hits different. I don’t want to date him or anything… I just want to…” Callum raises an eyebrow suggestively, “see.” 

It is this moment that you realize that Callum is a kindred spirit, at least where Austin is concerned. 

“Austin isn’t just any guy, and something tells me he might just be ready to, uh, ‘see’ as well.  Wanna come to my place tonight? Find out just how into it he could be?” you ask boldly. 

“Yes,” he says immediately, “I assume you’ll be involved as well?” 

“I’d like to be,” it’s your place after all, “if you are willing.”

“Done,” he says with a smile. “Wow, did we just set up a threesome like that?” he snaps his fingers. 

“I hope so, let’s surprise Austin with it tonight,” you say conspiratorially. 

“Yeah,” he eyes flick up behind you and his chin flicks up. 

Seconds later Austin’s warm hand is on your back. 

“You two getting along?” Austin asks, sitting next to you.

“I’ll say,” says Cal, winking. Damn he was a flirt.

“Yeah, I’d keep him if I were you, Austin,” you say, rubbing his knee as he sits down next to you.

“I see why you like her, Aus,” Cal’s eyes sparkle.

“Yeah, she’s special,” he looks sidelong at you, his little dimple appearing as he smiles. 

Little did you know that Austin had talked to Callum that morning. He had absolutely picked up on your innuendo, he’d seen the look in your eye when you had seen Callum on the screen. He wasn’t sure how he’d pull it off,  but he figured he’d leave you two together and see if you at least got along. 

He didn’t realize you would take the bull by the horns. 

credit to @saradika for the graphic!

Always tag me: @purejasmine, @slowsweetlove, @richardslady121, @austinbutlerslovers, @tadpoleteef, @allittakesisoneflight

"I've been tagged by you before Lumiere!": @thisworldisntrealhoney,  @1nho,  @megangovier, @briaandthephantoms, @andro-inherdreamworld @callumsgirl @blombardo  @fefeisastar @hacunamy @nestito702 @denised916 @jayydep @r0m4nitcl0v3r @heyidc03, @secondchild-2, @flander42 @natural-born-rebel-spirit @lecosymood @kathrynzaragoza @bsunshinexo @jayydep @ifyouloveweedletsgosmoke

[siphisket]

Ref for Writers: Working in an Art Studio

For the last year, I've been working part-time at a small local art studio where people can come in to make all sorts of art projects using the space and materials. I finished my last shift there this month, so to commemorate my time there, here's what it was like to work in a place like that!

I'll try to cover fashion/wardrobe, social environment, physical environment, what kind of tasks are involved on the job, and some shenanigans too if any come to mind lol

Physical Environment

The art studio where I worked was located in an un-finished warehouse-looking section of a larger office building. The flooring is gray concrete slab, and the ceiling would be average height if more of the ceiling tiles were actually in place, but the rafters are completely exposed, giving another half-story of height to the space. The walls around the tiny storage room, break room, and office only went up to the rafters, so if you got on the big 8-foot ladder we used for reaching storage shelves and lightbulbs, you could theoretically climb straight over the walls to the other side. One time, someone accidentally locked the office key inside the office, so I gerry-rigged a fishing hook out of wire, string, and a popsicle stick, set up the big ladder outside the office, and climbed up top to get a vantage point where I could see the keys. I managed to fish out the keys and reel them up after like 5-10 minutes of throwing the line around! (It wasn't my first time having to fish an item out of a precarious location lol — the person closing with me that night was a brand new coworker and I didn't even realize how bizarre the whole thing probably was until i finished and she was flabbergasted lmao, kept talking about it for a whole week) (Speaking of the rafters. They have not been dusted in like 20 years. Do not try to climb over them you'll spontaneously develop asthma and die lol)

Do not ever expect an art studio to be pristinely clean lol. Tables, walls, and furniture covered not just with paint stains, but with actual dried paint globs and splatters. Decades-worth of it. We try to manage it of course, scraping the newest stuff up and scrubbing tables down, but at a certain point, it becomes part of the decor in designated spots. There were some tables that were permanently covered in years of paint splatters, and we still had to dust and wipe the bumpy surface down, but that paint was there to stay. For other tables, a scraper was my best friend, because there were always a few dried layers of glue and paint to remove by the end of the day. Sometimes, bits of fake moss and shreds of discarded collage paper get dried up in the mix and have to be thrown away entirely. Also, sweeping is an impressively infinite task. I don't know where all the dust and glitter comes from every day.

The sink clogs every month or so just from the sheer volume of paint and grout that gets stopped up in the pipes. We do our best to have customers wipe all grout off their hands before washing, but there's only so much we can do. Because it clogs so frequently, nobody's really surprised when it happens, and we usually just do our best to work around it for a couple weeks till it can be fixed again.

This kind of business is not lucrative. The materials are not cheap and the clean-up is hard work, so the prices add up to be higher than some people might expect just to keep the doors open. (Feel free to dm about pricing details cuz this post is long enough already lol) We have to store tons of items year round to save money on buying new materials every season, but there's not exactly a lot of extra money lying around to rent out more storage space either, so every shipment we receive is usually followed by a week of playing 10-foot Tetris in the time between helping customers, while squeezing around and tripping over boxes to access new and old supplies alike. All this out of sight of the customer, but only barely lol. Anyway, the storage "room" is really just a glorified walk-in closet, and it is TIGHT. It only fits half the storage in there anyway lmao — the rest is piled ceiling-high in the break room and the hall by the back door lol.

Social/Work Environment

The atmosphere of a place like this is so laid back and fun, especially after working in a soul-sucking environment like food service. You're surrounded by creativity of all sorts, with artists of all ages, making it a very supportive and low-stakes environment where mistakes are okay and experimentation is encouraged. It's so affirming to be in an environment where my skills and knowledge about art are actually useful. (Sometimes there will be a parent that gets upset about the price, but like. Your kid glued $75 dollars of necklace charms and action figures to their project while you sat there and watched. What do you want me to tell you lol)

It gets insane around summer and the holidays when kids are out of school and every parent in the tristate area is looking for some kind of activity to keep their kids occupied for a couple hours, but the rest of the year is very slow (except for a few random days every month or so when everything is suddenly crazy for no plausible reason). The studio is located in an area with a ton of other small businesses, so there's also a number of festivals in the fall where we would get so crowded that people were packed into the studio shoulder-to-shoulder from wall to wall. Nightmare. But really, most days are just like. 2-10 small groups total, for the whole day. It's nice. Probably makes it harder for the owner to break even, but it's nice.

Fashion/Wardrobe

Nobody cares if you look a little disheveled in an art studio. I mean, a lot of parents bring kids in to make art projects, so try not to look too beat-up or potential-kidnapper-y, but it's an art studio. People go in expecting to get messy, and you can get away with a lot of questionable or unusual fashion choices just through proximity to art supplies lol. Although keep in mind that anything you wear is at risk of being destroyed by said art supplies.

You have to have a completely separate wardrobe for working in a place like this, because the paint, grout, and glue do not come out in the wash. Every week, I cycled through various hand-me-down shirts and a couple designated pairs of jeans. I wore an old beat-up pair of combat boots every day — the kind of beat-up where the soles have completely split across the middle from constant use lol. Throw a studio-branded apron over top of all that and you're in uniform!

I like to paint my nails black, but the polish is quickly banged up from cleaning paintbrushes and interacting with grout, so it always inevitably looked patchy and chipped. And speaking of fingernails, it's best to keep them short. The grout and paint will get stuck up under there no matter how long they are, and your choices are either to leave that grit and grime up in there, or spend 5-15 minutes scraping and scrubbing it out after every shift, so you'll want nails that are easy to clean.

Tasks

I hated working the art camps/parties (so it's safe to assume all the job details not explicitly about camps/parties are in reference to my work on the open studio floor), but some coworkers really loved it. I used to attend the camps when I was little, but running them is a whole other experience, especially when there's a wide age range of kids in the group. Maybe it's cuz I'm kinda shy, but I always had a lot of trouble keeping the group's attention, and if you can't keep their attention, paint ends up where it's not supposed to be, expensive art supplies get accidentally broken, kids don't hear the rules and then start crying when they get in trouble for breaking them, other kids cry when their classmate breaks a rule but gets away with it because I was too busy to notice, etc etc. The thing I liked the least, though, was that if I was interacting with a kid, I wanted to give them my full attention so they knew they were important and heard and getting the help they needed, and I just couldn't do that with a group of 16 kindergartners lol — that's why I preferred working the open studio floor. You sometimes get tipped for working parties tho, so that's a plus. Oh, side note: Do Not let the parents of all the party guests stay for the party - there is Not enough room, and more importantly, none of the kids will listen to an instructor they don't know when their parent/guardian is literally Right There, and then the parents get mad at the kids for not listening to you but the kids don't understand so they become even more attentive to the parents and it's a whole mess and nobody has a good time. The parents can sit at a table on the studio floor if they need to.

Speaking of kids and parents... sometimes as an employee that interacts with kids, you can tell way too much about a kid's home life from the way they act or the things they say or the way they completely change when their parent/guardian comes to pick them up. And you can keep an eye out, but you can't ever really know anything for sure in that tiny little window of time you have with them, and there's really not much you can do to change their circumstances. All you can really do is be a positive experience for that short amount of time, or at least try your best not to be a negative one. You can't really offer anything long-term, but you can try to make sure they have a little space to breathe, just in case it's the only chance they get today. I'm sure actual teachers will have much more insightful things to say about that though.

Anyway. *clears throat*

On the open studio floor (which was mainly the section where I worked), customers of all ages could just come in and we would help them more individually, kinda like waiters. I liked this so much better because I didn't have to be monitoring 15 billion children at once — I could just focus on the person/people in front of me and be as helpful as possible. Probably about half the open studio customers were adults, and the other half were kids. As a demographic, I'm not really drawn towards kids (although I guess I'm not really drawn to people in general), but I was surprised to learn that many of them seemed to like me, which was really sweet — there's one kid I'll never forget who was really shy the first time he came in, but every time he came back after that, he would run straight up to me and hug me around the knees (and to think I barely remembered him the first time it happened lmao I was like oh my god who is this child I'm gonna fall over like a Star Wars AT-AT). Adults, on the other hand, were nice because they were lower maintenance, but also a little awkward sometimes because it can involve small talk lol. We mostly got young parents accompanying their kids or people around retirement age, but there were also sometimes young adults that would come in as individuals or with a couple friends. Thankfully none of them ever tried to take me down like a Star Wars AT-AT.

The "dishes" are a manageable but never-ending task — there are always paint brushes, glue brushes, and palettes to clean. When we can't get to the dishes right away, us studio assistants usually just collect all the brushes in a tub of water in the basin of the industrial sink to keep them from drying out before we can clean them. The white plastic palettes are what you really gotta watch out for though, cuz if the paint dries on those for more than a couple hours, it's a nightmare trying to wash them off. Oh also, sometimes customers try to be helpful by washing their own stuff, which is very sweet, but we usually end up having to rewash the supplies they used anyways since most people don't know how to do it correctly.

Some of my coworkers hated sorting the mosaic tiles, but I loved it. Every time a customer makes a mosaic project, they get to choose as many tiles as they like from our inventory, but people aren't gonna count out exactly how many tiles they need when they can just pile a few handfuls into their tile tray. All the extra tiles then have to be sorted back into their respective containers (organized by color and shape). Sure, sometimes it would get a little old on days when the sorting pile got really big, but there are literally sorting-type mobile games designed exactly like this lol it's kinda fun.

Grouting is also really nice once you get over the mess of it all. The methodical application and the texture of wet grout on tile beneath your fingers is kind of nice to lose yourself in - just letting the noises around you fade out and allowing your mind to wander while you work. You can never let yourself get too immersed on shift though, cuz customers always have to come first, but those days where it's just you and some grout orders are the best. (For context, sometimes customers would pay us to grout their mosaic projects for them after they'd laid all the tiles) Yeah though you can technically apply grout with tools like popsicle sticks and such but I found that my hands getting caked in grout was already inevitable, so I might as well just use my hands. We did have some plastic disposable gloves in the back for folks who really wanted to keep their hands clean, but they were really thin and usually too big, and you also can't really feel what you're doing with gloves on, so you're more likely to slice your fingers on the edges of stained glass tiles and such.

Do Not Let The Children Pour Their Own Paint. When a customer wants colors on their palette, we pour it for them. If we don't, entire bottles of unused paint Will end up being wasted down the drain, because customers almost always pour more paint than they need. (Not that they're doing it on purpose — paint comes out fast and spreads out more than you would expect, so it's generally a Skill Issue). When it's busy, though, sometimes customers are just gonna help themselves without asking, and there's nothing you can really do about it except let it slide.

It doesn't matter if your gym buddy is pregnant, painting an entire 20ft wall with two coats of chalkboard paint by yourself will make you regret skipping the gym for the past few months. It's a hell of an arm/shoulder workout, especially if you're woefully un-ambidextrous. It will also likely take more than one shift if there are enough customers that you have to stop to help your coworkers. The solitude while working on it was nice tho

And that's everything coming to mind at the moment

Even with the little annoyances, I had such a great time working at the art studio and I'm really gonna miss it. I don't expect this to travel very far lol but in case it's helpful to anyone, feel free to reach out for questions or further details!

Edit: This short is exactly what it was like lmao

[betterbooktitles]

I had placed a stack of albums on the counter of a tiny strip mall record shop when my smartest writer friend called me out of the blue to tell me I should “always have a mistress.”

Relax. She meant a metaphorical mistress. That is, a writing project on the side. You have your main squeeze (a novel or a script) but then you flirt with the idea of writing a YA Romance or a Thriller or (god forbid) poetry. You need something to write that feels like a break from your “Big Project.”

I was staring at the cover of Tears for Fears’ Songs From The Big Chair, imagining the person I would be once I heard “Head Over Heels” on vinyl when my phone rang. I only had the ringer on because I was waiting for a potential call from a casting director. A certain late-night show sent out a casting notice for “shirtless man” and I, without any shame, turned on the lights in my wife’s office and had her take a few shots with my phone. I had the ringer on in case a stranger got my (half) nudes in an email, and said “That’s it! Get me that torso!” I’m sorry to say, enough time has passed without a call that you will not be seeing my chest on TV any time soon. Usually, my phone remains on silent when I’m out in the world. It also remains on silent when I’m at home because I’m staring at it all day anyway. Who needs to bring noise into that equation? If you call, I’ll see it.

Between the tone of her voice and the occasional swoosh of a car going by, I could tell my friend was driving and had me on speakerphone. She was on her way to lunch with someone on the business/agency side of Entertainment, heading to a mix of pleasurable banter over food with a friend but also a business-minded networking session with someone she hadn’t seen in 6 months. This call, pleasurable to me but in retrospect a bit of business since we talked instantly and almost entirely about work for 20 minutes, was eerily fortuitous. It was like she knew I was writing this week about work and relationships.

“You have the mistress project because it makes you feel young,” she said, telling me about her decision to write 50 pages of a Romance novel. “The problem is that you think ‘Maybe I should leave my wife for this younger project.’” She had submitted the first chunk of her frivolous manuscript to an agent, and, to her horror, the agent loved it. Now she has to live with it for a while. She has to explain to her previous project that they are either in a polyamorous marriage now or about to enter a trial separation. Plus, she had to see if the mistress project was wife material or if she’d fall into the same patterns as her previous relationship. OK. We get the metaphor.

“I’m afraid my new mistress is buying dollar records,” I said, watching the traffic go by, sipping from a lid-off paper cup full of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee that, between the time I’d spent looking at records and chatting in the parking lot, had turned cold. I felt the urge to rush back into the store and apologize to Timmy the manager for stepping out. I worried he’d already re-shelved my copy of The Go-Go’s Beauty And The Beat or that someone had seen the Tears For Fears on the top of “my” unpurchased heap and bought it for himself. This shopping trip was supposed to be an Artist Date (I guess the metaphor is still going), a weekly outing you do solo to engage with your Muse before journalling about it because a book called The Artist’s Way says it’s the only way to remain creative. You woo the Muse by engaging with art alone. Typically, I’d go to a museum or a movie by myself for my Artist Date but I’d had a record player for over 2 months and had only amassed a measly hundred-plus albums in my house so far. My next Artist Date will be a trip to IKEA to buy a shelf to hold more.

“No, Dan.” My brilliant friend said, “Replacing your main project with records or books is like saying you’re not going to have a mistress and instead get into sex dolls. You need a creative project.”

Read the rest of the essay here.

[androgynousblackbox]

Can't Remember To Forget You. 9 FINALE [Radioapple, Appleradio]

Chapter 9: Baby One More Time

The eartquake was as much of a surprise for him as it was for Vox. But as soon he heard that voice calling his name, that deep growl that reverberated on the walls, he was up in his hooves faster that the TV Demon could react to it. After days being blinded by the lights, his vision took a couple of seconds to fully adjust to the dark. Thank goodness for the bright screen that Vox had for head that made it so easy to find and dispose of, taking him out of the way towards the door that he ran to. Of course it worked with electricity, like everything that didn't need it, so he had to push it open with his tentacles and found himself on a huge hallway.

At the other extreme of it, a massive hole had been created in the ceiling where the devil stood, the fire between his long horns and at the sides of his mouth the only true point of light. Alastor froze in place, not knowing what to do. Was he there because of him, only him, because he knew who Alastor was now, or because their daughters had begged him to?

One look from Lucifer was all it took to answer him. So much regret and longing and pure joy brightning up those features could not come from a man that was there purely out of obligation. And yet, Alastor did not move, as if doing so somehow could break the ilusion and show that none of it was real. For a moment it seemed that Lucifer was going through the same thought process. That would make sense as to why he extended his hand in front of him.

A golden chain sprung out, moving through the air like a snake about to pounce, creating a path of bright light that went directly to join the shackle that appeared around the radio demon's neck. Alastor touched it with a shaky hand and something inside of him collapsed, broke apart like a monster finally leaving his back and let him breath free, at last.

He took a step forward. That was all he managed to do before Lucifer moved and reached him first, propelled by his six wings in full display. His arms wrapped Alastor by the middle like a vice, gripping, clinging to his back with anxious fingers, and Alastor couldn't do more than to hug his head in return to bury his face into the blonde air, the horn retracted to a smaller size. Soft, silky, fragant like only Lucifer could be. It felt good to be squeezed like that, so needed. Better than any dream he ever had.

Lucifer was doing as much with his chest. It took a second for Alastor to realize that Lucifer wasn't just breathing deeply. He was sniffling.

"I am so, so, so fucking sorry" said finally, lifting his head. He cupped one of Alastor's cheek and he relied on it. In the dark the shiny tears of Lucifer seemed so bright, reflecting the. "I am such a fucking idiot. I should have never let you go. What the fuck was I thinking?" Alastor felt a weird sensation of deja vu. He didn't disagreed anyway, but he did bended a little to leave a simple kiss on his forehead. "I am sorry" Lucifer drew a shaky breath before hugging him again. "Please, tell me that you are okay. What did that fucker did to you? I will do it a thousand times worst to him!" added, the fire coming back to expell his mouth.

For as lovely idea as that was, Alastor shook his head briefly.

"Nothing I couldn't break off anyway" assured him, nuzzling his head. "I was never in any real danger thank to our contract, dear. I was just… wasting time, I guess. I was going to get out as soon I had enough of dealing with him."

"But are you okay?" Lucifer squeezed him again. Alastor thought in how unwise that would be if he was actually hurt anywhere. But that is how Lucifer was and he didn't want him any other way.

"Perfectly" said sincerely, resting his arms around the neck of Lucifer. "Can we just go home, darling? There is nothing here for you to concern yourself with."

"Are you sure?"

All it took was one nod from Alastor for Lucifer to lift him from the ground, straight to a portal of golden edges. Alastor hold on tight. Losing his footing was never fun, although it was different when Lucifer was the one making him do it. Still not the ideal for him.

The change from total darkness to a gently lit room had him squinting his eyes until his eyes could adapt again. Lucifer flapped his wings to hold his face so gently, caressing both his cheeks. Alastor loosen up a little. When he was sure that he could focus on anything, he looked back to his husband, holding his hands. Lucifer smiled as he joined their foreheads together.

"Baby, don't take this the wrong way, but you reek" commented after a while, his voice still soft. "What have you been drinking?"

"I have no idea" Alastor closed his eyes, shrugging. "Something that apparently could have bought an entire village and gentrify it in a month. I think that is what Vox said at least. Or maybe was the bottle before that. Either way, I had better. They weren't sweet at all. You would have hated them."

"Want me to take care of it?"

Alastor hummed lazily as an affirmative.

"Okay, just sit on the bed."

Lucifer separated from him to let him move on his own and sneered briefly. The back of his leg found the edge of the bed before his eyes could. He was planning to sit, but let himself fall instead and closed his eyes. His fingers played with the magic chain as he felt Lucifer get on the bed, moving towards him.

"I always forget how good you look with that" commented Lucifer, his voice right above him. Alastor barely had time to lick his lips before his husband bended over, reaching him first. A kiss that was both deep and demanding, but still so gentle. "I love how you react to it too" whispered, nuzzling his cheek.

"I missed it" confessed Alastor, returning the gesture. On his hand he gripped the chain, the warmed up magical object a comfort against his skin. "I missed you."

Lucifer caressed his temple and went down his cheek. Alastor opened up his eyes to see Lucifer biting his inferior lip. At noticing that, Lucifer shook his head.

"I am sorry, I just… I want to fucking smack myself" Lucifer sighed moving away from his eyesight. But with the chain still on his hand, Alastor could just relax until he felt Lucifer lifting his head to put on a pillow and then he sitting again. As he put both his hands on his temple, Alastor looked up again. The familiar surge of healing magic turned him into a lump over the bed. "How are you not mad with me?"

"I had an… idea of what could happen if I spoke more than I should to you with the spell on" Alastor closed his eyes, as if that could erase Lucifer from the room and let him to speak. The mental numbness of all the alcohol in his system was being washed away, bringing back all those feelings he was trying so hard to run from since that night. The bitter, oppressive taste of shame attached to the ceiling of his mouth. "I still went and did it. I was mad with you, but you didn't deserve that. I only managed to make everything worse. I am… I am sorry."

Lucifer bended over him, without losing the contact with him to send him his magic, in order to kiss his brow.

"I was saying a bunch of stupid things. After all you did to try to make the night the best you could. Of course you were mad. I am mad because I reacted like that" Lucifer was almost speaking barely separating at all.

It was pleasant, and his words did made him feel a little better, but Alastor shook his head anyway.

"That doesn't justify it, love" He took a deep breath and lifted his eyelids, finding close the red eyes of Lucifer. "When that happened, I couldn't even do anything to help. My shadow was the one who brought Charlie. Charlie was the one who called Belphegor. How many times you have defended me and I just stayed there like an idiot while you were in pain? Pain I bought on?"

"You were in shock" Lucifer said it easily, his thumbs rubbing him gently at the sides. Alastor was almost sure that he wasn't drunk at all anymore, but didn't tell him to stop it. It felt warm and safe. "Anyone would be, babe. I wouldn't ever hold that against you."

"You don't?" Alastor lifted his hand and grabbed Lucifer by the face, bringing him down as he elevated his chin. His managed to land on Lucifer's lips like he wanted.

"No" Lucifer's response accompanied another slow kiss. "I love you so much. I am sorry."

"I love you too" Alastor sighed, opening his mouth further for an invitation that Lucifer didn't turned out. His fingers took a hold of the blonde hair as he maneuvered his head. "I am sorry."

Lucifer swallowed up before lifting himself over his hands. Alastor would have lamented more there was no more healing magic if not because Lucifer started to gently float above him, easily moving on top to reach his mouth again. Then his neck, untying his bowtie to send it flying to the nightstand.

"Get back all my memories and know you weren't there was… well, the fucking worst" Lucifer spoke while opening his shirt, kissing the skin of his clavicle and nuzzling his chest fluff. "I couldn't stand it. I just had to rush to find you. When I saw you were at that place, I swear I was ready to turn it all into dust."

"Were you?" Alastor shivered with the violent image that appeared in his mind. His body was oversensitve as Lucifer was opening his clothes more, finding other spaces he wanted to recognize with his mouth again. He twitched and leaned against him. Maybe he should have left Lucifer to believe he was tortured after all. But it was too late for that now. "You know, we still have to talk about what to do with Heaven."

"What is there to talk about? "Lucifer huffed, pulling open the belt of Alastor out of his pants. "I am going to fuck them up for ever making us go through that whole bullshit. For years they have been using my name as a warning. About time to give them a reason for it."

There was no hesitation on his words, not a trace of doubt about them. One years ago, that same man had a panic attack imagining their daughter going up to Heaven or at the thought of Alastor end up killed by them. Now he was talking about giving them a lesson they could never forget and make good on his reputation. Heaven had taken care of erasing any good will left on the first fallen. It didn't even mattered that they essentially had no means to do anything now. They would work out something eventually. Then they would know they should have never messed with them.

Alastor moaned and grabbed the head of Lucifer to bring it over. Lucifer lifted his eyebrows in surprise, but was not one to reject him. Their tongues recognized each other once again, like it had never passed not even a day since their last encounter. It was so entrancing that Alastor almost failed to notice Lucifer's finger moving in the air. Close to it, Lucifer's phone was floating nearby in a way he couldn't see the screen. He pulled the blonde hair to glare at him.

"Are you texting right now, love?" groaned, caressing his cheek. "I thought I was providing an effective distraction here."

"I am just letting Charlie know that I found you, that you are okay and we will be resting in my room" Lucifer easily pulled down to kiss him again, a gesture more of reassurance than need like how Alastor's was. "It was thanks to making a small deal with Charlie that the spell got broken. That is the least I could do for her. I learned my lesson from the last time we didn't update her on what happened."

Alastor relaxed again, brushing his fingers through the blonde hair. He stroke Lucifer's sides as his husband was finishing with the phone, only to then send it away to his nightstand. By then Alastor had already opened up his pants with his tentacles and get them out of his legs, shoes included, so he was only with his underwear left to press his thighs together. Lucifer chuckled good naturedly at seeing that, one hand trailing over the same way his mouth had been. Until he landed on someplace of his stomach and stopped there. Alastor barely had to lift his head a little bit to know that Lucifer was drawing the curvature of his C-section scar with an expression he couldn't quite make up, but already knew it wasn't a happy.

"Dear" called, cupping his cheek.

"I should have been there" Lucifer sighed as he let his forehead rest against the fluff of his chest. "I wanted to be there with you so much."

"I know, darling" Alastor joined his hand to his husband's and gave it a reaffirming squeeze. "They are still so small, dear. You can still see them grow up. Nobody is taking that away from you."

Lucifer's head peaked from over his fur and nodded slowly.

"I just wished I could have accompany you through it all" said with a new sigh, descending again.

Alastor felt his legs twitching a little as the hands of the devil pulled on his last piece of clothing, down his thighs. All the while kissing his light grey scar. Alastor couldn't say that he didn't have the same thought as him. Since getting his own memories back, he had let that dissapointment to feed on his own secret rage, the one that would impulse them to take on their revenge in Heaven. But as Lucifer opened his legs to make a space for himself between them, a new idea was born and it looked just perfect on its simplicity.

"Dear" He sighed, grabbing a handful of blonde hair as Lucifer started to descend, mouth already open. "What do you say, after a prudential time has passed, we try to have another?" The way Lucifer quickly straighten up, staring up at him with an incredulous expression, brought a chuckle out of him. "What? You don't want to?" teased with a smirk.

"Are you serious?!" Lucifer's eyes sparkled with his question and Alastor chuckled again, nodding.

"Why not?" said, playfully drawing the line of the king's jaw with a finger. "I wanted to live that with you too. That is how they came to be in the first place. We can have another chance. Artemis could have a sibling around their same age too. Wouldn't that be nice?"

Lucifer let out a tiny squeal with a wide, toothy smile. This time he was the one to grab Alastor's face to kiss him and then hug him tight by the neck. That wasn't the kind of contact that Alastor was looking for, but it was warmth coming from Lucifer so he couldn't complain too much as he patted his back in return. When Lucifer started kissing his cheek, over and over, he hummed pleasantly like a cat under the sun.

"How long should we wait?" asked Lucifer, nuzzling against him.

"I don't know" Alastor was not thinking to have another one when he talked to his designated doctor in Heaven, or the last time he had Belphegor in front of him. He was never an expert on normal pregnancies in the first place either, much less magical ones. "A year I suppose?"

"I will ask Bel" Lucifer unwrapped his arms from around him to reach out for his phone.

But that just wouldn't do for Alastor. He grabbed the wrist of the king and pushed him by the other shoulder until Lucifer was laying on his back and he could comfortable straddle him by the waist.

"You could do that" said, ripping open the vest and shirt of Lucifer easily, button flying off everywhere. All so he could finally touch the chiseled out body underneath. God's most beatiful creation indeed. "or you could stop stalling already and give your husband the welcome I have been sorely lacking ever since I came back to Hell. Which is going to be, love?"

Lucifer made a line with his mouth. The hand that he had left when Alastor pinned it against the bed snapped his fingers. In a blink of an eye, all clothing was off him and Alastor was once again very aware of how sensitive his skin was, because the contact with Lucifer's thigh made made his to tremble a little.

To think he spend the rest of his human life without ever needing that kind of intimacy with another person, and now in death he truly knew the meaning of what was to wait too long to get it. It was fitting after all that only the king of hell would be the one to tempt him to indulge in another kind of sin that the one that condemn him.

"That is better" purred, lifting himself just enough to grip Lucifer where he wanted the most, stroking him further.

Lucifer sighed he went to hold him by the waist, black fingers stretched out to touch as much as possible. Replacing his own hand with a equally firm tentacle, Alastor bended over to kiss the neck of Lucifer. His tongue pressed against the vein palpitating there and he nibbled the zone until Lucifer moved his head, letting him do as he wished, already knowing what was to come. Alastor opened up his mouth, already salivating at the mere thought.

The first taste of Lucifer's blood felt like glory, like home, a paradise he had no issue receiving in full. When Lucifer them around, fully prepared now, and met him inside, Alastor was ready to receive him as well.

Alastor had no idea how long he was asleep. He only knew that he felt totally rested for once, despite every part on his body feeling like their weighed like iron. Between his legs, on his chest, even his mouth felt sored and abused. The worst offenders were the muscles of his legs, strung up after repeating tension and releasing that also had no idea how much it lasted, but it felt like hours. Even now, after the rest, his nerves kept palpitating under the skin.

However, the part that he liked the most was becoming aware of Lucifer's look over him right at his side, arm around his waist, legs brushing witb his. Just watching in silence, without attempting to wake him up.

"I thought I was supposed to be the creepy stalker" commented Alastor finally, turning his head ever so slightly to see at his husband through half closed lids. He moved so slowly to reach his forehead and caress it with his lips.

"You still are. Nobody is taking your title anytime soon" Lucifer smiled a little and accomodated better over Alastor's shoulder. One hand came out to pet Alastor's ears and they instantly flattened. "But I am starting to see the appeal. How do you feel, babe?"

"Call me that again" Alastor hummed, lifting a hand to indolently caress Lucifer's shoulder blade.

"Babe" Lucifer reached over and kissed his jaw. "I assume fine?"

Alastor nodded. Besides his own body being turned into a sack of heavy water and being pretty sure he was completely useless from the waist down, he did felt fine. Better than he had been in months, actually.

"Just hungry" said with a sigh.

"Now that sounds familiar" Lucifer chuckled and kissed his lips quickly, only to just as easily move out of bed that immediately became a lot colder.

Alastor frowned as his ears twitched. He saw Lucifer standing up to grab his own t-shirt from the floor and some pants. The moment the king moved to open the door, Alastor's shadow closed it again with a grin. Black tentacles came out to wrap around Lucifer's shoulder to gently pushing further inside.

"Darling, where do you think you are going?" said Alastor, barely turning in order to face him.

"To prepare some breakfast?"

"Oh, no, you are not doing that" Alastor smirked as the tentacles now wrapped Lucifer's waist and elevated him in the air, straight to his arms in their bed where he belonged. All without Lucifer even trying to fight it or being especially surprised. He hugged the smaller body and nuzzled his head. "You can make appear anything you want from here, dear. If you go anywhere else, ever again, I will end you."

"I was going to leave you with a clone, you know."

"I don't care. You are staying here."

Lucifer hugged him back, grumbling satisfied to be back with his face against Alastor's fluff. The fact that Lucifer was now covered made little difference for his body to still being able to have a tingle of pleasure at their proximity. It had only been a couple of weeks that he had broken the spells before Lucifer, that he had to contain himself from touching him as he pleased, but it was like a decade had passed instead.

"Okay" said Lucifer, his voice a little muffled. "But this goes both ways, babe. I am never taking my eyes from you. I mean it."

Alastor smirked. That sounded more than reasonable for him.

"Of course."

"No, I actually mean it" Lucifer rised himself up over his elbow and then sat down at his side. Alastor still kept a hand over the monarch's thigh. "First, we are still going to have the wedding party with the girls, because I want to see Artemis in a little tuxedo-dress and I think that will be adorable, but I would feel better if we got to signing the paper to make you officially my Consort again. So if anything truly serious happens to you, I will know it immediately. And don't say nothing will or I swear for my name, Al" warned when Alastor opened up his mouth, just about to do that. He closed it again and rolled his eyes, making a hand wave to allow him to continue. Lucifer nodded, his eyes softening up. "Second, I will add a clause to our marriage certificate so our rings can tell each other where are we, what is our state and if the other needs us no matter what realm we are in. I can find you in any place of Hell, but outside of that I am blind. Our contract already does that, but I don't want to rely only in that in case it ends up making things worse for you. Not to mention that if I have my magic cut off again, like in Heaven, I can't call it either. The ring has its own magic, so it will work no matter what. Third…" Lucifer stayed with his finger lifted in the air, blinking, and scratched the back of his neck as he looked over at Alastor. "I don't know. If there is anything you would like to happen?"

Alastor consider it for a moment, but in truth he already knew what he wanted. He lifted himself up by his arms until he managed to sit too, ignoring the twitching of nerves between his legs.

"Third" said, scooping closer to Lucifer to hold his chin up. "We will make sure Heaven pays for what they did to us. You are going to give me another fawn and be there for them the entire way through to be their father. You are never going to be free of me even if you despise me. You are never going to look at anyone the same way you look at me or there will be consequences. Forth, and more importantly" added, lowering to hover the lips that rise up a little to try to catch him, "you will never ask me again why I decided to stay or why I do any of the things I do with you. That self deprecation nonsense was never a good look on you, darling. I won't have anymore of it. Deal?"

Lucifer opened up his eyes wider when around him the magic of Alastor started to expand, symbols closing in as they danced in the air. The expanded energy agitated and moved the king's hair as he swallowed thick, making a slight head nod.

"Deal."

They didn't seal it with a kiss nor a hug. Alastor had heard of deals closed by other forms of contact before, although he had never seen any need to deviate from a handshake before. But as Lucifer got undressed again and lifted Alastor's legs over his shoulders, it felt appropriate to do it that way too.

After they were done, now both of them were famelic. Lucifer conjured up a tray that could have oocupied a individual bed by itself, one side full with pastries, cupcakes, pancakes and waffles with plenty of whipped cream, syrup and chocolate sauce to go around. The one had bacon, eggs, steaks bigger than Lucifer's face still drenched in blood and other meats. While Alastor was on his own form of Heaven finally getting to fill his stomach, sitting upstraight by the pillows accomodated in his back, Lucifer checked on his phone while taking a sip of lemon tea with a spoonful of honey.

"We have officially being 2 days here" informed him. "Around this hour is that I went to pick you up."

Alastor almost chocked while drinking his coffee. He patted his chest to calm down as Lucifer rubbed his back, understanding the shock.

"What about Artemis?" asked, cleaning up his mouth with a napkin.

"Oh, Charlie and Emily love taking care of them. They send me a bunch of pictures while we were sleeping, see?" Lucifer moved closer, showing the screen as he scrolled with his finger. Different images passed by. Charlie showing a freshly bathed Artemis covered with a towell and their hair still damp, looking extra adorable with their big shiny red eyes staring with a goofy smile. Emily reading Artemis a picture book and making exaggerated expression to follow along the story. There was even pictures of Vaggie doing her best to get over her hesitation to handle such a small baby. "Artemis… was crying a lot without here. Either because they just missed you a lot or they knew something was wrong or both, but I couldn't console them" commented Lucifer, resting his head against Alastor's arm. "Want to see them?"

"Always" Alastor nuzzled the crown of blonde hair. Then stopped. "We are taking a shower before seeing anyone, though."

"Fair enough" Lucifer chuckled and wrapped an arm around Alastor's waist. "Want me to carry you into the bathtub and wash you myself?"

Alastor directed him a poignant glare. He could very well still move with both his tentacles and through his shadows. Lucifer probably knew that as much as he did. Just like he also knew his answer.

"If you ever tell anyone about this, I am riping your tongue off" still had to add.

Lucifer giggled, but otherwise nodded to the request.

Once both have finished their meals, were properly washed and dressed on their pajamas, Alastor let Lucifer carry him back to the bed and accomodated again the pillows at his back before sending the text for the girls to come see them. Alastor relaxed to see that Lucifer had changed all the bedsheets and covers, making him feel all fresh and relax as they waited for the rest of their family.

They didn't had to wait for long. Soon enough, a knock was heard on their door and Lucifer opened up, instantly getting picked up by the hug of Emily jumping to him.

"We were so, so worried about you, guys, but we didn't want to bother you in case you were resting and we kept waiting for any sign" said Charlie in one breath, coming in with Artemis in her arms. She saw Alastor in the bed and she immediately moved there. "Dad! Are you okay?"

"Never better, little fawn" Alastor crinked his eyes and extended his arms. "Let me see my polka dot."

"Of course. Hey, little sib, look who is here" Charlie sat on the corner of the bed and extended Artemis to Alastor, careful to hold their heads exactly like he had taught her already.

Artemis looked up to see Alastor as the radio demon accomodate him against his chest, big eyes full fo silent awe that on itself was truly endearing to see.

"Good to see you too again, little one" Alastor booped their nose with a single finger.

That might as well being the funniest joke in history because then Artemis started laughing incontrollably, loud and happy. Almost drowning out the also loud gasp that came from Lucifer as he jumped near by them.

"Is that my happy Arty? Is my happy little rascal back?" cooed and Artemis's giggled only expanded further, kicking out their hooves and lifting their arms. "Yes, that is my happy little rascal! You are happy that daddy is back, aren't you? Me too" said, taking one of the little hoof and kissing it gently for the enjoyment of their baby.

"We are also happy you are back" said Charlie, hugging Alastor by the neck and squeezing tighter than what would allow someone else to breath. But Alastor did not even think about telling her that.

"We missed you" assured Emily, wrapping his arms from the other side as Lucifer moved between his legs to give her the space, biting his bottom lip with a smile.

Alastor exhaled, more than resigned already to be subjected to the affection of his family. And never wanting it to end.

"I missed you too, dears. All of you" assured, kissing the forehead of Artemis as his laughter calmed down, the tootless smile still brightening up their face.

When he saw Lucifer lifting his phone up with a pout at the ready, he rolled his eyes.

"Just one" warned.

Lucifer squealed, commanding their daughter to stay close and smile. Artemis was still fascinated when looking at Alastor, but Lucifer didn't mind as he took the picture and then send it to the girls as they requested.

They kept the story simple of what happened simple. Alastor was in the middle of killing some new targets when Lucifer found him and brought him home, where they spend most of the time sleeping. The whole ordeal with Vox they could keep it for themselves, since it wasn't anything worth fuzzing over anyway.

"I am so glad to have you all back!" sighed Charlie, incapable of not being like her father, even on her need to hug as much as possible. "That must have been a really nice nap, because you both look so much better already!"

"Never understimate the power of a good night of sleep, duckling" Lucifer chuckled, looking away from a moment before he got up in his knees, clapping his hands. "But enough about that! Let's talk how we are going to organize our official new wedding!"

Charlie gasped, holding her cheeks. Emily had never been to a wedding or seen one, but Charlie seemed excited about it so she was instantly interested on learned what was that about. Charlie almost tripped over her words in her rush to explain the ceremony, all the while already giving suggestion about themes, decoration, menu options and even activities they could prepare for the reception party.

It was already night out when Emily suggested they could have a sleepover right there and they did, watching a white and black movie in honor to Alastor and eating pizza. All the while Artemis was taking out their nap on the craddle Lucifer conjured close to their bed, a bubble of silence around them so nothing could wake them up suddenly, and a stomach full.

It was on the next day, while both of their daughters were back to handle the rest of the hotel, but to please call immediately if they needed anything, that Lucifer hang up with one of his lawyers and conjured up a piece of paper. Even as he approached the bed again, Alastor could feel the magical presence on that document. Even Artemis, laying on his back on the bed next to Alastor, stopped playing with the tentacles above them to stare at it. Or they just liked seeing Lucifer exist on the peripheral of their vision again.

Alastor by then was able to walk and move on his own again. But it felt nice to relax in bed, without any plan or urgency to do anything more than just be there, with his husband. Like a well deserved vacation time that he had conceded himself. An important advantage of being the father of his boss.

"Well, this is it" said Lucifer, passing the certificate to Alastor. "Read it over if you like, but it should have all the stuff that we talked about."

"Did you took that part about death nullifying it too?"

"The only way to nullify our marriage will be by mutual agreement now, yep" Lucifer sat on the bed, making a kissy face to Artemis as now he played with their hands. "If you need to change something or have it added, speak now or keep silence for…" he was in the middle of saying, when suddenly Alastor shoved the paper in front of him.

The signature of the radio demon was shiny with red ink at the end.

"I read it already, it's fine. Now sign" said Alastor, barely conceiling the impatience in his voice.

Lucifer, smirking, conjured up a quill and put his own signature down in gold ink holding it in the air. As soon he finished, the paper rolled on itself, being send back to his lawyer for safe keeping. A second later, Lucifer extended his hand just like Alastor as a golden ring manifested around their fingers. This one felt heaviers, warmer than the one they had before, but it was undeniable real and Lucifer took his hand to his chest, sighning. Alastor could not say that he didn't understand it, because he did. It felt good to just have their relationship recognized like that again. Even if that how things have been for them for decades.

Alastor closed his eyes for a moment as he just rubbed the solid magic. It wasn't as easy as just seeing with his eyes, but now he was aware of Lucifer in a way he wasn't before. There was no alarm on that presence or reason to worry as he knew Lucifer was coming closer, until he felt him kiss his cheek and looked at him again. Lucifer had a full on grin that didn't look bad on him.

"Nice to meet you again, Mr Morningstar" said his newly officiall husband, chuckling to himself.

"Technically speaking, I never stopped being Mr Morningstar, dear" said Alastor, still reaching forward to kiss his lips properly. "But this is nice."

[kyehwas]

HOW SWEET! - track 5. RIGHT NOW

a/n : y/n and akito long distance relationship arc... what will happen to these two star-crossed lovers? find out next time on total! drama! island! sorry i haven't watched total drama in like forever but I still make these jokes 🤧 last minute title change btw, wow

taglist: @stellas-starry-stories13 @sl-vega @bookiezzz

"Y/N?" The creak of a door and Sayaka's honeyed voice made you spin around and squeeze Sayaka as tightly as you could. "Y/N... what's wrong? What happened between you and that guy?"

Sayaka brought you inside and wiped your tears. The rest of the group rushed over to see you, which made you start crying again.

"I'm going to beat Shinonome's ass if he did anything bad to you," Rei threatened.

"It's not that," You sniffled, "It's the opposite. He- He was so nice and stuff, and I finally got to see him again, but now he's gone. He even confessed to me!

"Y/N... what did you do in response?" Mika asked.

"I told him I liked him back and we kissed." You felt embarrassed sharing the memory to your group mates, but thinking about it made you feel so warm inside.

The three girls gasped, their voices overlaying one another.

"If we get our group into a dating scandal, we're fucked, you know that?"

"Oh my, oh my god!! Y/N! I knew it'd happen! You have to keep in touch with Shinonome!"

"You really let some guy who you haven't seen in ages kiss you? Was that a good idea?"

Your now dried eyes were starting to get teary again. You were such a crybaby, get yourself together, y/n! "Please, I can deal with this. Media isn't going to find out about Akito and I, then after this tour, we'll blow up! Project Sekai Entertainment loves us, don't worry."

"Y/N I..." Mika trailed off. "Okay. I trust you. We need to get going in three hours anyways, so maybe you should've said your goodbyes to your man a little later."

Your man. Your man. Your cheeks dusted a pale pink with those words. "I should've." Is all you can manage to spit out. You're starting to regret saying bye to him so soon. "I love you guys so much, y'all are the best. Let's make our fans go wild." You grinned.

"Yeah!!" Sayaka cheered, and so you and the rest of SWEET TOOTH spent the remaining three hours in Shibuya laughing and joking around.

You'd see Akito again soon. You and him both know it.