#I remember everything I thought. WILL sketch out some of that stuf… later

[rumlead]

what good is a mouth and ears if you only stare? // complicit witness // curly bro is the talk in the room with us?

had the idea for a piece that parallels pre- and post- crash Curly.. ideologically? Or at least to be representative of his body after the crash reflecting his prior actions. Curly pre-crash doesn’t truly listen to concerns about Jim or even have a proper conversation with him, but rather watches things happen (low interference, signing off on his psych-evaluation). Post-crash Curly can’t talk, assumedly has limited/no hearing (mfw ship blow up in my face), and no eyelids— call him the witness the way he be witnessing. He’s doing as much as he would prior to the crash, but now he doesn’t have a choice. There is definitely a more profound way to word it, but you get the point. Probably.

[aajxs]

always and forever , SATORU GOJO !

the one where you're gone and satoru is reminiscing.

pairings - satoru gojo x fem!reader

contents - angstttt!!! , hurt/little comfort , mentions of death , mentions of blood , satoru gojo is bad at feelings , maybe ooc gojo (??) , arguing , idk what else to add so lmk if I missed anything

w/c - ???

a/n - the highly requested part two to 'meant to be'. I didn't really know how to end this but I hope it turned out okay 😭

masterlist , part one .

SATORU WAS ASKED the same question a lot. 'Is there anything you don't have?' He'd laugh this question off, give the person a cocky smirk and continue with his day. If he could, he'd give an entire list of things he doesn't have. Your name would be at the top of the list every time.

Satoru couldn't stand the atmosphere around jujutsu high now that you were gone. He used to sleep well knowing you were only a few rooms down peacefully sleeping, bundled in blankets and hugging whatever stuffed animal you had chosen out of your large collection that night.

Satoru always teased you about it, but that never stopped you from buying new ones. You had given him one of your favorite stuffed animals awhile back, and even though Satoru let out a laugh when you handed him the bear, he treated it with the utmost care simply because it was yours.

Before your room was emptied, Yaga allowed Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko to go through your belongings and take something to remember you by. Even if it was probably against the rules, he knew the four of you were close. The distant look in Satorus eyes said everything, and Satoru Gojo was never distant.

"Try to make it quick," Yaga said, patting Satoru on the shoulder as he walked out of the room. Your walls were littered with posters and polaroids, your nightstand had a book on it, your bed wasn't made, and everything felt so natural. Satoru knew that Suguru and Shoko would probably want some of your polaroids, so he only took the ones that had the two of you in them.

Your closet was still full of clothes. Extra uniforms because you always somehow ruined yours on missions, comfy clothes for when you weren't in your uniform, and the occasional t-shirt or pair of sweatpants that you had stolen from Satoru (He let you have them, but he always swore you took it simply because he liked being petty).

A part of him didn't want to take any of his stuff back, but he knew that if he didn't it'd probably be thrown away. Satoru went through your closet and grabbed anything that belonged to him, throwing it over his shoulder. When he was done, he turned around and strode towards your nightstand.

Satoru squatted down and opened the drawer to your nightstand and rummaged through it for a moment. There were notebooks that were mostly empty, and then sketchbooks filled to the brim with drawings. Satoru always saw you doodling whenever you got ahold of paper, and couldn't help but get curious. He would peer over your shoulder when you weren't paying attention and look at your little drawings.

He always thought it was cute how you'd keep a small notepad and a pen on you at all times just so you could draw. Whenever you and him would walk together to meet up with the others, you would occasionally stop to sketch the scenery.

"Why do you keep doing that?" Satoru questioned as he loomed next you, peeking curiously at what you were drawing. "Doing what?" You ask, glancing up at him for a moment before returning to your sketch. "You keep stopping to draw or whatever, why?" He asks again, this time a bit closer to you. "Well," You started, "It's easier than waiting until later when I don't remember all the details." You quickly explain, not caring to go into depth.

Satoru hummed and continued to watch you sketch. "I try to sketch out the base when I first see it, then make a better drawing later." You add as you glimpse at Satoru again. "Well hurry it up, we're gonna be late again." Satoru commented with a small smile, making you grin at him.

Satoru put down the notebook he was once skimming through, and grabbed one of your sketchbooks. He skimmed through it, most were of scenery, but there were a select few that caught his eye. There were a few drawings of Shoko and Suguru, and enough drawings of him that he couldn't count it on two hands.

Satoru blinked and a few tears he didn't know were welling up in his eyes fell onto the page. It was a drawing of him, it wasn't clear what he was doing in the drawing, but his face wasn't fully visible but from what he could see he looked focused. It was as if somebody snapped a photo of him and slapped it onto the page.

He cursed under his breath before picking up the notebook that he had put down earlier and placed it back inside your nightstand. After wiping his eyes, he closed the sketchbook in his hand and stared at it for a moment.

It wouldn't hurt to keep it.

Satoru took a deep breath as he stood up, taking in your scent one last time before exiting the room. Yaga was leaned against the wall, patiently waiting for Satoru to finish up. "What's with the clothes?" The teacher asked without thinking, slightly raising a brow in the process. "What do you think is with the clothes?" Satoru snapped, giving Yaga a look before trudging off to his quarters.

"Are you alright Satoru? You've been avoiding me and Shoko all day," Suguru voiced as he sauntered over to Satoru, who was sat under a large tree that was somewhat close to the school. "I'm fine, jus' been thinking, that's all." Satoru chirped back, sliding something into his pocket.

Satorus jacket was laying next to him, leaving him in his white button up. Suguru soundlessly made his way over to Satoru and sat down next to him, "Seriously, Satoru, what's up with you?" He asked gently, giving his friend a concerned look.

"I'm fine, Suguru–" Satoru began before getting cut off by a scoff from his best friend. "No you're not, tell me what's been going on." Suguru said, his voice stern. "Don't push it!" Satoru snapped his head towards the man next to him, an evident scowl on his face. Suguru visibly flinched away from Satoru.

"Ever since Y/N, you've been an asshole to everyone." Suguru said as he stood up, "She wouldn't want this." Before Satoru knew it, he was on his feet and Sugurus collar was bunched in his hands.

"Don't you dare try to tell me what she would want! You don't know her like I do!" Satoru yelled, his grip on Sugurus collar tightening by the second. "You're right, I didn't know her like you did," Suguru says, somehow keeping his composure, "And maybe I don't know you like she knew you, but I do know that this isn't you." He says while gesturing to Satoru with his hands, making his grip loosen slightly.

"I know it must hurt, but you need to understand that the rest of us are grieving too. Don't be selfish." Suguru says, and Satoru hesitantly removes his grip on his collar. "Me? Selfish? It's like I'm the only one here who actually cares!" Satoru curses, throwing his arms into the air in frustration.

"Y/N died in my arms! I came back here covered in her blood! It's almost like I'm the only one who actually gives a shit around here! Ever since the news broke, you assholes have acted like everything's normal! Like everythings not fucking ruined now that she's gone!" Satoru yells, shoving Suguru away from him, "Don't you dare try to call me selfish, you weren't there, Suguru." Satoru breathes shakily before snatching his jacket off the ground and walking off, leaving his best friend stunned.

That was the first time since your death that Satoru openly admitted that you were gone. Out of touch, in a place where not even Satoru Gojo can reach you.

After the incident with Suguru, Satoru tries hard to make it seem like he's okay. Like he's slowly getting over you. Over your death. In truth? It felt like it was getting worse. Satoru didn't eat or sleep, and he didn't have the energy or stimulation that his cursed technique required to be at its full power.

To a stranger, you and Satoru were simply best friends. Two people that understood each other through and through, even if there were a lot of ups and downs. To people close to the two of you, you were the only people who didn't realize the feelings the other had, and it caused a lot of problems in your friendship.

To Satoru, you were like his emotional support person. Better yet, his person. You were there for him when Suguru or Shoko couldn't be, you witnessed (one too many) of his breakdowns, you knew Satoru like the back of your hand. You were his and he was yours, even if neither of you realized it. Losing you meant he had one less person to lean on when things went bad.

Maybe Satoru was a little selfish after all.

The more Satoru thought about it, the more he realized your death could have been prevented. They should've given you a partner, they should've sent him or Suguru with you. If he got there a little earlier, maybe he would have been able to save you.

Satoru knew he would have to learn death sometime in his life, but if he knew you would be the first lesson, he would've let himself die a long time ago if it meant he wouldn't have to suffer the loss of you.

Satoru stared blankly up at his ceiling, recalling moments that reminded him of you.

Him and Suguru were walking in town earlier that day, and he caught a whiff of the perfume you used to wear. He froze in place and turned to look at the woman who was wearing the familiar scent, images of you flashing quickly through his mind. After that small moment, it felt as if Satorus mood had deflated like a balloon for the rest of the day.

Then, Satoru had taken off his glasses for a few minutes while in a large crowd, and a splitting migraine quickly formed. He recalled that there were many times when you two would be on the subway together, and maybe he had forgotten his glasses that day. You would drape an arm over his shoulder and cover his eyes with your hand.

You knew that his six eyes became overwhelming at times, and when he forgot his glasses it was hard for him to not look like he was in pain. You would always remind him that he needed to keep them on him at all times, and even convinced him to buy an extra pair to keep inside the pockets of his uniform just in case.

"Satoru, you can't keep forgetting them," You'd say as you held your hand over his eyes. At first he'd flinch away, and you would apologize before taking your hand away from his face. Then it'd be Satoru apologizing and grabbing your hand to place it over his eyes again, his lips curving upwards slightly at your sweet gesture.

It would always be you, that was something Satoru embedded into his mind. Even when he's older and has students of his own. Even when he's the strongest jujustu sorcerer in the world and has many people after him. Even when he's beginning to forget your face and what it felt like to hold you.

It would always be you, whether he wanted it to be or not.

© AAJXS

[blueknightdg]

Consideration and Generosity

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

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug and Chat Noire, DCU

Characters: Marinette, Damian

----------

She sat on a park bench that day; the weather was hot yet, cloudy.

Despite the uncomfortable sweat clinging to her being and the buzzing noise of her surroundings, she smiled happily. She would do anything for inspiration, even endure the blistering feeling of the sun.

Soon enough it has been hours since she began to sketch and draw designs for clothing she wishes to make true.

She feels her head is off, so she takes a break to answer a text from her mother.

----------

(Mom) Marinette, are you still at the park? It's been five hours.

(Me) Yep! Just taking a break.

(Mom) Just now? It's really hot outside, have you eaten? What about water?

(Me) Don't worry! I'm fine! I stayed in the shade the whole time.

(Mom) Okay, but I want a picture of you eating.

(Me) Okay, I will. I love you!

(Mom) I love you too.

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

Marinette, packs her sketch books and other materials a way in her bag. She stands up, only to tip over onto someone walking past her.

"Hey, you-"

The person stops to keep her from falling all the way down.

"Uh... I'm sorry, I guess I should have taken a break earlier."

She tries to break a way from the strangers grip. They let her go easily. They began to walk a little further a way with a eye in her direction. She sits down again to collect herself. She takes a few breaths and thinks about how to get up without falling and embarrassing herself.

"I wish I packed a water bottle or something, I knew it was hot but I thought I would be fine....", she thought to herself.

She checked her bag in case she just forgot. Lo and behold there was a water bottle in one of the outside pockets.

"Huh....? That's strange, I was sure I......oh well.", she shrugged it off as her forgetting.

Feeling a little better, she carefully stood up. Having not fallen, she smiled and picked up her full bag. She walks in the direction of a small restaurant to eat, since she wouldn't make it home before hunger got to her.

She walked like she wasn't being followed. Casual and slow, she took in the buildings a round her. The same as her memories told her, but still just as beautiful.

Once she got to an empty table, she sat her bag down in front of her. The waitress walks up to her with a smile.

"Hello! Here is the menu, please take your time. Though I do suggest today's special! Mushroom soup with broccoli, carrots, and rice."

"Thank you."

"No problem!"

The waitress leaves her be and she focuses on the menu. It seems that this restaurant is all about healthy living.

She hums to herself as she thinks of her order. However, everything sounded wonderful and she couldn't decide. Then she heard a waitress bring someone's order of a tofu and veggie stuffed bell peppers with a side salad. So she looked over to see the meal and found that it looked delicious. She also saw they ordered tomato juice.

Looking at the menu one more time, she located the meal, drink and picked out a dessert on her own.

As soon as she put her menu down, the waitress came up to her with her pen and notepad out.

"Ready to order?"

"Yes, I would like the Tofu and Veggie stuffed Bell peppers with a side salad, tomato juice, and the vanilla, soy bean ice cream."

"Would you like a topping?"

"Yes, let's see....oh! The coconut sprinkles and strawberry drizzle."

"To repeat: Tofu, veggie stuff bell peppers, side salad, tomato juice, vanilla soy bean ice cream with coconut sprinkles and strawberry drizzle?"

"Yes."

"Okay, we will right on it!"

Marinette took out her phone as she waited. She texted her mom, that she was at a restaurant nearby. Her mom reminded her to send a picture of her eating.

A few minutes later and her food was brought to her.

"Thank you so much!"

"It's no problem, dear, tell me if you need anything!"

The waitress leaves to let her eat. She sends a picture of her food to her mom, who responded with the words 'smile and heart'.

--------

Change perspective

--------

His day was normal. He woke up and dealt with the hooligans that plagued his life. He was currently in Paris as a part of a stake out group. His family dispersed during day to do individual actives. His father wanted him near by, but he argued that he didn't need to be monitored.

His father conceded by saying he must practice being considerate of other people and to update him on how it is going and if he needs help. He was more than reluctant to agree. Regardless, he did.

He didn't like the loose nature of his apparel for the day, but had no chouce due to the heat.

Though by no means is his clothing loose in comparison to others definition. He prefers to be dignified at all times.

Most of the day, he had nothing report to his father that was particularly considerate until he notice the ragged look of a girl a round his age. She looked dehydrated and ill. He scoffs at her lack of self preservation until he notice she was immersed in some kind of sketching. He also remembered his has to be 'considerate' today so he will say she was lost to passion. After all, this is Paris, the city known for passion.

He watches her as she unconsciously squints and makes a grim expression at times. She sways ever so slightly.

In his observations, she stopped her work to look at her phone. Her condition is not well. He walks a little closer with a water bottle he bought. The moment he walked next to her and she stood, he stabilized her and slipped the water bottle in her bag as she spoke, trying to clear her head. She was drenched in sweat.

"Father better be grateful, I am being more than generous with being 'considerate', disgusting.", he thought with distain.

He hurried a way from her only to stop a short distance a way to watch her more and to sanitize his hands; to rid himself of the horrid feeling of her sweat.

The girl swayed less than before, but after updating his father of what happened, he was ordered to tail her. What if she collapsed? His efforts would have been in vain if that was so.

He was slightly frustrated and her slow pace did nothing to help. He only felt a bit better at her choice of eatery. He saw that she was heading for a Healthy Living Restaurant and went a head of her to sit down. He typed to his father that the girl was trying to decide what to eat. He was instructed to do what he thought best if he were to interfere at all. So he picked the most sensible option for her condition, in return, she followed and added something to her order.

He ate quietly and finished before her. He then left a large tip; the service was quick, the food palatable, atmosphere was pleasant and he doubted the girl had much on her. Enough to pay perhaps, but she would then be left with nothing else.

She seemed to be middle class, and the middle class does not make much little wealth, to him at least. Sure, her clothing was quite good with quality, but her manners weren't all that remarkable and nothing else about her was either.

Polite, is what she was. Quiet, unnoticeable, and polite.

To him, she was a foolish girl that dreamed too much and did little for her own well-being. Truly the epitome of moronic whelps.

After he left the restaurant, he watched from a distance. Through the window, he saw her tempt to pay, only to be denied. He smirked, perhaps he should visit this particular restaurant again and maybe even invest a bit?

He felt his phone buzz, his father typed, wanting to be updating on the status of the girl. It became apparent that some of the hooligans are now aware of his sudden punish- mission. Yes, this is a mission.

Protecting such weak plebeians is the duty of his father and him, also the unsightly hooligans- not well in his opinion- but he shall add them this once.

"Father is surely proud of how 'considerate' and 'generous' I am.", he believes, "Excessively so."

------

The day ends with Marinette safely returning home and the still mysterious young man facing his mismatched family.

The young man remained considerate as he ignored the jeers of the hooligans until he realized, he didn't have to any more and retorted as though his words came from the high heavens.

---------

The next time he checked in on the young lady, he had some knowledge of her background he shouldn't and decided to continue to see to it that she is well taken care.

"It's called being an arrogant, egotistical xsshxle with a God complex. She doesn't need your 'consideration', she is not a charity case!"

One loud problem claimed as he tuned him out.

---------

The young man did visit the restaurant once more and she was there. She would visit often and order the same thing as he had the first time. There were times she ordered something else and he would try things she experimented with, minus the meat.

She ordered meat less and less the more she came to the restaurant, he noticed. He had no clue why, since she obviously had no problem eating it.

He didn't order sweets as often as she did, but he would on occasion, get something with a little bit of sweetness to it; like the dried fruit sandwich with any type of sauce it can come with. The sandwich had fresh, and air dried fruit. There would be other ingredients and such to change the flavor of the sandwich, making it a popular item on the menu.

------

Change Perspective

--------

She felt like she has seen the same guy a lot over the past two months and is slightly worried. After some thought to it and the more she believed she was over thinking it and that it was pure coincidence. She did know, however, he had good taste in food and art. Plus that animals are so cute!! He couldn't be all bad if animals liked him.

She would walk a little closer and sometimes walk a little farther from him and since he never moved, she felt better. It really was a coincidence to her knowledge.

Eventually, she would would stop seeing him. He was a tourist, so of course he would leave at some point. Still, she was a little sad.

Oh well, school is starting soon, maybe she'll make friends to fill the loneliness her pretend friend left her.

She liked to pretend this stranger was her friends and that they hung out, since she saw him in most places that she was. She saw him at the restaurant and sometimes the park and rarely he would be at the museum. Technically he wasn't everywhere and not as frequent as she made it seem like he was, but if was often enough to remember him.

"You should have talked to him, get his number."

"But then he might have thought I was hitting on him! I just wanted a friend..."

"Sweetie, look on bright side! Either you can cherish memories that made you happy or you can forget him and move on. You don't know what life has in-store for you, it could be fun!"

"Thank you, mom. You too dad, I will see what happens."

"On that note, want help me frost some cakes?"

"Yes!!!"

-----

The end.

[kira-fluff]

Hello! Have you done headcanons for a MC that is a really good artist? Like, that's what she loves and hopes to make a career out of it? (For the RFA, V, And Saeran?) thankyou! Bye bye! \ ^-^ /

a/n: I LOOOVEE this idea! As a passionate artist myself, this one hits home :) As you probably know, I’ve updated my rules, since you specified 2, I will pick 2 from the RFA :) Again, let me know if you’d like to have different characters than the ones I picked! I went for MC instead of Y/n this time. Let me know what you think. Thanks! 

Also, this is pre-relationship and it may or may not have turned into a confession headcanon oh gosh 

- 

MC is an Artist +Confession bonus 

V +bonus confession 

As a fellow artist, V would be incredibly proud of you 

Even though he might sometimes have trouble saying it 

V has always showed actions above his words 

You’d quickly gathered this from his lack of communication with the RFA chat and text messages between the two of you in general 

But you understood him, in a way 

You related to the freedom he felt whenever he expressed himself through his photography 

Because you felt that same feelings when you painted 

You were incredibly inspired by Beatrix Potter, your memories of her various artworks inspiring you to do the same 

You adored nature just as much as V did 

Together, you both made a beautiful pair 

You wore an adorable flower-patterned, yellow sun dress

A beige sunhat you held to your head with a hand, carrying your brushes and paint palette

Him, dressed smartly in a sweater with khaki pants 

 V could carry your easel for you, his professional photography bag slung around his shoulder. 

You’d laugh, turning around to look at him, the wind blowing in your face, urging him to “Come on!” 

V had never thought you more beautiful than the time you’d accidentally tripped into a meadow of freesias, scattering them every which way 

You gasped, whipping out your pocket book, etching down the scene before you 

After a measurable silence, you looked over at V who had been quiet in taking pictures of you 

He keeps many copies of the pictures, putting one in his wallet and other places he’d look frequently just to make him smile 

He’d never let others besides himself see them, but they were the most beautiful photos he’d ever taken, and this not just by his standards of your beauty 

You sometimes would catch yourself sketching him during your time outside with him, sitting in a quiet pasture 

The world’s creatures were your muse, but you couldn’t help yourself from taking every opportunity to capture V’s every expression

And maybe that’s when you realized you were completely and utterly in love with him. 

In those quiet times in the meadows, all along you were in love with him. 

When you’d caught V taking candids of you, you always would beg him to delete them, which he begrudgingly would, if you really begged him 

But.. other than that, you were positive V had no real feelings for you outside of a deep friendship. 

That must’ve done it. He knows.  

Because suddenly, V had become incredibly distant, flaking out of your naturalist escapades, becoming increasingly difficult to come in contact at all..

it was all pointing to the fact that he had realized how deeply you loved him. 

You in turn, pushed away everyone around you. 

Rejection hurt. So much. One does not truly understand it until they’ve felt it themselves. 

It came to a point where you had no more tears left to cry, you knew he was gone forever. 

Your love, your inspiration. 

All was gone. 

You hadn’t touched a paint brush in months 

You’d been skipping meals for a while, beginning to feel more and more fatigue because of it. 

It came to the point where all in the RFA (except V) had become so worried about you that they’d sent Jaehee and Yoosung over to check on you 

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d checked your phone 

Your blinds and curtains had been shut for a subsequent amount of time. 

It had been weeks since you’d last changed your clothes, your hair was unkept. 

You stopped taking care of yourself completely, emptiness overtaking you. 

You had always had a dream of making artwork your career.. but just when your freelance career had begun to take off.. you lost everything. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to touch your paints or pocket book. It reminded you too much of him. 

You weren’t concerned about money, Rika’s apartment was already paid for and… well, with no real meal expenses, you didn’t feel any real purpose to continue. 

You heard a soft knock on the door. 

Instead of answering, you groaned, rolling over in your sheets – hoping if you ignored the knocking they’d assumed you weren’t home.

Any last grain of hope you’d had left you a long time ago. 

“….MC?” 

You slowly sat up in your bed. It was Yoosung. 

You instantly felt shame for ignoring them.. and looking, well, like this. 

“I’m coming in!” Came a loud shout, causing you to panic. 

Damn. Seven must’ve opened the apartment.  

Seven was concerned for you, given the surveillance footage, he couldn’t find almost any instances when you’d left your apartment. 

Given your apparent closeness, Seven shot a text to Yoosung, Jaehee, and of course, V. 

Yoosung and Jaehee replied in agreement and concern, V, however, said something very different. 

// V: << I’m sorry. I can’t go. >> [sent, 6:08am]

707: << I thot the 2 of u were rly close. Did sth happen? >> [sent, 6:09am]

V: << I’m selfish. I can’t see her anymore. >> [sent, 6:29am] 

707: << ? >> 

707: << y? >> [sent, 6:29am]

read, 6:32am. //

You began to cry, embarrassed and ashamed, as Jaehee and Yoosung called your name throughout your hollow feeling apartment. 

Immediate concern covered their faces when they saw you teary eyed in your bed. 

“Oh, MC, hey, it’s going to be okay.”, Jaehee immediately held your head in her arms. 

She ordered Yoosung to get some food from your local convenience store

From there, she opted to begin cleaning you up. 

Jaehee didn’t want to force you to do or say anything, so she never asked questions – unless to ask whether you were comfortable taking a shower or perhaps, eating something later. 

You were not opposed to the help, rather, you felt indebted to them, feeling guilty for causing Jaehee, Yoosung, and likely Seven a great amount of trouble. 

Jaehee made quick work of stripping your bed sheets, stuffing in the laundry and opening the blinds, cleaning your room and dusting where necessary 

A part of her chastised herself for not doing so sooner, but she and the others were afraid that they’d be intruding on your right to take a social media break or something of the sort. 

Yoosung came back relatively quickly, a meal in hand, per Jaehee’s request. 

He made quick work of making his specialty – an omurice omelette. 

Jaehee continued to tidy up, checking up with you when she’d realized the apartment had gotten too silent

You at last stepped out of the shower, your hair taking on a glimmer, as if thanking you for taking care of it at last. 

You washed your face, trying to gather your thoughts as your shoved a crew-neck shirt over your head, opting for jeans and slippers as well. 

At last coming out of the bathroom, you at last made eye contact with Yoosung and Jaehee you began to cry again. 

Without hesitation, they rushed toward you for a hug, hushing you when you’d blubbered, “I’m sorry, thank you, I’m so sorry” in between dry heaves. 

After a quick call to Seven from Jaehee, Zen, Jumin and Saeyoung had made their way to your apartment as well. 

They each had their piece to share, kind words of encouragement and love. 

You were happy by their words, but… 

V wasn’t here. 

At last gaining confidence through their encouraging words, you ushered them to the large sofas that laid beneath your TV. 

Looking down, you said, “I-I’m sure you’re all wondering about V and I..” 

You didn’t dare look up when your sniffles began. 

You took a deep breath before beginning, “This is nothing to his fault, but….” your lip wobbled, “I believe.. I think he realized that I had completely fallen for him,” you laughed pathetically, “Still am”

Seven began, “MC–” 

“I don’t blame him, really, I never intended to tell him… it’s awkward.” 

Zen clenched his fist, “That asshole…” 

“And my friend” Jumin quickly rebutted. 

“P-please! I didn’t tell you this to make you dislike him or anything! I just felt like I owed you all an explanation…”, you begged.

Seven stared at you for a while before saying, “MC… V he’s– I think you should tell him properly.” 

Zen, ever the hot-head, stood up shouting, “And get her heart broken all over again?! How heartless can you be!” 

You smiled ingenuinely, “He’s right, Zen.” 

Before you could change your mind, you picked up your phone, and for what felt like years, you at last dialed V’s number. 

On the last ring, you heard sound that the caller had, picked up though there was no sound on the other line. 

Jumin and Yoosung ushered everyone out of the room, deciding to take a little stroll outside the apartment complex. 

After a moment of silence you started, “…..V?” 

You now heard him breathing on the other line.

“V, I know you’re there. Please…” You felt your voice wavering, “P-please… come to my apartment.”, you whispered a final, “please.” 

V was silent for what felt like hours before saying, “……..okay.” 

You hung up, attempting to mentally prepare yourself for the world of hurt you were about to endure again. 

After a long silence in which you’d zoned out, you suddenly heard the door bell ring. 

You glanced up. Only V ever used the doorbell.. always had. 

You slowly crept toward the door, taking deep breaths to calm your nerves. 

Gently opening the door a crack, you took in V. 

It had been a few months, but he looked so different. So…hollow. 

You moved for him to come inside, closing the door behind you. 

“Um, V, there’s something I need to tell you.” 

“You already know my answer.” 

You looked up, tears welling in your eyes, doing your best to ignore his statement. 

“V… I love you.” 

You’d never seen V so taken aback, his whole face grew pale. 

“Y-you love me?” 

“Have. For a long time.” 

You looked down, “You can go now.” 

Yet you didn’t hear a sound of movement. 

Looking up, V was still standing there, shocked. 

At last, you managed to hear the softest whisper, “All this time….”

You leaned in closer, “What?” 

“I- I loved you.. I love you. Since we’d first met. I-I thought you didn’t want a thing to do with me. Thought you’d figured out I’d fallen in love, so I distanced myself.. selfishly to try not to get hurt, but I still did. And all this time you felt the same.” 

You were now the stunned one. 

“Really?” 

V gently smiled at you, enveloping you in a tight hug, “Really.” 

Jumin +bonus confession 

You loved to create stories 

Various areas of fiction, watercolor splashing against crisp, white pages 

Telling a beautiful story in color 

And Jumin adored it. 

He adored you. 

He admired your deep passion to create and your love for everything. 

He couldn’t understand how you could see the beauty in everything around you… for Jumin, he tended to consider things in their degree of usefulness. 

For the longest time, his father and those around him had encouraged this mentality 

And so, Jumin rarely sought for things that would have no real purpose – his penthouse proved this point by its bare walls – void of artistic charm

It wasn’t until you’d met him through the RFA that you’d immediately brought a force of color into his life 

He remembered well the first time you’d come to his apartment 

You gently ran your soft fingers against the walls of his penthouse saying, “Mr. Han, I think you need some more color in your house. It looks like a hospital in here!” You turned to him, a playful smile on your face. 

The breath was knocked out of him. 

God, he could never say no to you. If you’d ask, he’d get you anything you’d ever need. 

But he loved that you didn’t appreciate that kind of affection. Jumin knew he immediately ran to gift giving for love because it was the only way he had been shown love throughout his life…. and, it didn’t really mean anything to him. 

Still, he desperately wanted to be helpful, so if you were ever in a financial struggle, he’d offer to assist you. 

You’d proudly decline, declaring you could do it all yourself. He liked that about you too. Your independence, your kindness. 

It didn’t take long for him to realize he had taken to you greatly. 

One day when you’d come over for a visit, while petting Elizabeth III, you said, “Hey, Jumin.. have you ever fallen in love before?” 

Tension filled the air while Jumin stared at you. 

How could MC be so blind. 

When it had been a few moments he’d not answered, you awkwardly said, “J-just kidding! I figured you’re probably engaged – that was a stupid question, sorry..” 

Jumin was stricken by your sudden uncertainty, but didn’t make anything of it. 

“I’m not engaged. Don’t listen to anything my father says regarding that. And to answer your question, I think I might have an idea of what that feels like.” 

His eyes bore into yours, but he of course missed the look of sorrow that’d taken over your eyes.  

He’d watch you paint all day if he had the time. 

He couldn’t understand how you could look at a blank sheet of paper and write something so poetically beautiful and paint a lovely picture to match 

It was all a part of his amazement of you. 

He could watch you for hours, humming to yourself while you played around with contrast colors for your watercolor pieces 

No other art had value quite like your own 

He encouraged you at every chance he got, “MC, you should go into the arts.” 

“That’s what I want to do! But, Dad says the arts aren’t a realistic job.”, you frowned. 

“That may have been true in some outdated decade, but in our world today people are always looking for something hand-made and authentic. When we research our products, we look for items that have a ‘signature’ to them. Trust me, people want your art not only because it is breath-taking.. but because you made it.” 

You smiled at that, Jumin was always one to put a rational thought forward for your consideration, something you’d cherished. 

“Besides, I think you’d be happy anywhere you can create.” 

You grinned, pulling him into a tight hug, “Thank you, Ju Ju.”

Staying close friends became increasingly difficult, but Jumin wasn’t going to risk losing his friendship with you because of feelings. 

So you surprised him when you began randomly, “Jumin, I think I’m in love with you, okay?” 

You made eye contact, doing your best to show you were serious. 

As soon as he realized you were authentic in your confession, you turned around and began sprinting, flying open the door to his penthouse 

Jumin immediately chased after you, both in a full sprint 

You screamed when you heard his breathing and steps behind you and so increased your speed 

You had at last reached a dead end, but Jumin was a ways behind you. 

You reached for the elevator button, furiously clicking it – thankfully it came on the first ding. 

You rushed inside, repeatedly tapping the door-closing button. 

You sighed at last when you felt the elevator moving up, gasping for air. 

You attempted to continue going up to the highest story, which happened to be 320, grateful that this damn skyscraper had a ton of floors. 

You froze when the door came to a stop at floor 13. You panicked, trying to force the doors not to open. 

In front of you was a random businessmen, looked slightly peeved at the long wait he must’ve had for the elegant glass elevator. 

You apologized, allowing him into the elevator along with a crowd of impatient people, some gorgeous women with a smart suit and long hair, their phone resting on their cheek next to their ear, some more businessmen, glancing anxiously at their watches. 

As the elevator climbed to floor 21, a heap of people acknowledged their stop, pressing out of the elevator shaft and onto the busy hallways of what appeared to be the finance department. 

You sighed, pressing more buttons to go up higher. 

You screeched when you felt a hand on both of your wrists, slamming you into the wall behind you. 

Jumin’s eyes were glowing from the slight sweat that was beginning to form on his brow 

He looked pissed. 

“Don’t. Ever. Run. Away. From me. Again.” 

You gazed up at him, a guilty expression clouding your face 

“S-sorry..”, you quickly looked away, not bearing to look at the anger in his expression, the way he clenched his jaw and his eyes took on a darker hue… brows knit together. He was really mad. 

“You didn’t let me answer.” He said, his voice deep. 

He leaned in closer.. you closed your eyes in anticipation. 

He breathed a laugh through his nose, resting his forehead on your collarbone and shoulder. 

You blushed in embarrassment. 

Suddenly, Jumin hugged you tightly, “I love you too, MC.” 

Zen

As a fellow artist, Zen was overjoyed to say the least when he found out about your love for singing 

Your social media accounts were growing rapidly from your posts of music covers and original songs 

You also had a deep love to playing the harp. 

It had taken a lot of coaxing to convince your father to let you pay half and he pay the other of the expense of a 200,000 Won pedal harp 

But you loved it so much 

And so does Zen 

He’d definitely insist on doing a collaboration with you 

After the recording session and upload, both your following counts grew rapidly 

Comments of all types flooded your posts: 

OMG!!! ZEN!! BEAUTIFUL ZEN!!

who’s the b*tch next to him? 

omg, right? 

ew lol 

AHHHH I LOVE YOU ZEN!!! 

MC looks so cute…<3 사랑해   (i love you)

fyp!! 

ZEN AND MC WOULD MAKE SUCH A CUTE COUPLE AWEEEE 

I agree!! 귀엽다   (cute) 

Over the course of your social media endeavor, you’d learned to ignore the ruthless comments of jealous fans 

Zen was worried you’d taken them personally so he validated you a lot over the period that the video was a hit 

Zen wrote a song about you (which he definitely serenaded you with): 

“your passion, my passion one in the same this song – our communicator of my love to you. your smile each day this serenade a simple translator the time we have means so much i wouldn’t spend it any other way.” - radio wave COMMUNICATION by Zen 

The song overtook the song charts, making it’s way to the #1 spot in half a day 

You’d asked him, “Zen, are you going to make that a single? You are, aren’t you? Right?” 

“No, this is something for you and you only” 

You smiled at that, but said, “Zen, love like this deserves to be shared. This song will mean something so special to someone else, just like it means something to me. Music, what we do.. it was made to be shared.” 

Zen looked at you with stars in his eyes, taking you in a big hug. 

You truly were the kindest person he’d ever met.. and he loved you so, so much. 

Even though you may not have realized yet what the truth of his feelings were in his serenade, he knew he’d wait for the day in anticipation when he’d finally ask you to be his. 

Saeran

Saeran wasn’t personally one for dramatics, but he loved watching you perform  

You’d sing for all kinds of musicals – you’d act for a series of plays 

He loved it when you’d act in classics like Macbeth or The Phantom of the Opera

It felt like a safe place to forget everything in his life and just watch you 

But he hadn’t fallen for you for who you pretended to be, but for who you really are. 

You were shy – something he found surprising (but unbelievably adorable) because you were a well-known actress 

When you’d first met him, you were walking outside the entrance way of the theater a few hours before your showtime. 

You had accidentally tripped and spilled coffee all over some tax forms you had to fill out

You let out a soft, “oh no!” 

Saeran had been early for a nice seat (hopefully away from other people) and noticed a woman in a cute over-sized sweater was muttering words under her breath, picking up what seemed to be endless amounts of papers 

He quietly walked over and just as softly said, “…need some help..?” 

You were surprised at the sudden presence of a stranger 

“o-oh! … yes please..” 

he smiled, leaning down and picking up stacks of coffee-stained paper

“would you like me to carry them for you?”, he said 

“are you– are you sure?” you looked up at him innocently in concern 

he answered by gently taking the stack of papers, “where to..?” 

“um… i’ll show you..” 

he nodded, following you to the backstage area where there was a mirror attached to a dresser, stage makeup covering the top of it. 

“you’re an actress?” 

you grinned shyly, “everyone’s surprised..” 

“n-no, i think it suits you. i was surprised because i’m watching the show tonight.” 

“r-really? you’ll watch me?” 

he nodded, blushing at your hopeful smile 

“i’ll do my best then, if you’ll watch me..” 

“good.” he looked away 

“i’ll be waiting” you said with a soft smile 

“so will i” 

yeah you two were literally so adorable.<3 

- 

enjoy my beautifuls <3 have the loveliest of days – keep sending in those requests 

[pterodactylterrace]

Title: Guys Like You

Chapter: 3

Chapter Summary: You’re late for tea

Rating: 18+ for later chapters

Warning: Possible swear words, dirty thoughts, nudity

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Friday had been a strange day for Faye.  First, Henry wasn't on set. It took an embarrassingly long time for her to remember being told he had a few days off of filming.

Then, Mrs. Anderson sent her a strange series of texts asking about him. Sure, Faye had mentioned him a few times. Also, Briar was constantly going on about the man with the fluffy dog, so it made some sort of sense that she would ask about him. Not to mention Mrs. Anderson was always trying to find her a 'nice young man' to settle down with, so fixating on the one man she had mentioned wasn't that odd in retrospect.

Then, as she was pulling her beat up car into her driveway, she noticed an unfamiliar, shiny vehicle already parked outside. Maybe that was the new car Mr. Anderson had been dying for? Why would he park at her house instead of in his own drive a few doors down, though? Was it a surprise for Mrs. Anderson?

Now, she was walking into her house only to be greeted by a very excited, very large fluffball at the door.

"Kal?" That was definitely Kal. He was the only black and white Akita she knew with the habit of knocking his rear into her leg for attention, although his getup was rather strange. Why was Henry's dog in her house, and why was he wearing fairy wings, her daughter's dress up fairy tutu and at least a dozen mardi gras necklaces? Also, the floppy sun hat on his head was a nice touch. He seemed to enjoy having it on as well. That, or it was tied on too well for him to get off.

The dog's attire should have prepared her for when she looked into the living room. There sat Mrs. Anderson, her sun hat on along with one of Briar's scarfs and glow in the dark glasses perched above her regular seeing glasses. Next to her was Briar, her full fairy princess costume on, complete with wings, crown and a scepter, pouring pretend tea into the strangest guest's cup.

There sat Henry Cavill, cross legged on her living room floor, tiny plastic tea cup in his massive hand. On his head was perched a plastic crown, a feather boa wrapped around his thick neck, and if the sparkles were anything to go by, Briar had attacked him with her glitter body spray.

"Mommy!" Briar gasped, dropping her plastic tea pot and racing over to her mother, wrapping her arms around her legs.

"Hi, sweetie. What's going on?" Faye asked cautiously.

"You're late for tea." Henry replied, taking a pretend sip from his cup.

"I hope it's alright, dear. You did say he was a friend, and Briar seemed so fond of his dog, I didn't have the heart to turn him away." Mrs. Anderson explained.

"Uhh... yeah, it's fine." Faye mumbled, still taking in the sight before her, Kal and Briar rejoining the tea party as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

"My mistake. I thought we agreed on Friday." Henry apologized, pushing himself up. "We've only been here a little while. We can leave if you'd like."

"Oh, no. That's ok." Faye assured, finally setting her bag down, hastily turning over her sketch pad on the entrance table. Some things weren't meant for anyone other herself to see.

"I'll just be heading off then, Miss Warren." Mrs. Anderson excused herself, taking off her borrowed accessories and gathering her things. "You all have fun."

"So, uhh... how... how long have you been here?" Faye asked once she closed the door behind the older woman, quickly scanning the room to make sure nothing difficult to explain was in plain sight.

"Not long." Henry assured, sitting back down at Briar's insistent tugging, folding his long muscular legs back up as he settled on the floor in front of the coffee table.

"More tea!" Briar demanded, holding the cup up to his mouth, prompting him to take another pretend sip.

"You make wonderful tea, miss." Henry complimented, Briar preening in response.

"Mommy, you want tea?" Briar asked, a wide yawn cracking her little face.

"I would love some, sweetheart, but it's time for your nap." Faye pointed out.

"No! I wanna play tea!" Briar whined, plopping back on her backside in a pout.

"Briar." Faye warned, raising a brow at her.

"But... but... tea party!" Briar insisted.

"We can play more tea party after your nap. You're getting grumpy."

"No I'm not!" Briar insisted, her chubby face drawn into a scowl.

"That was grump right there." Faye pointed out, gently scooping up her cranky daughter. "Now let's go lay you down for a nap, and then we can play more tea party when you wake up."

"I don't wanna nap!" Briar yawned, rubbing her hazel eyes in an attempt to stay awake.

"You need one."

"I don't wanna nap, I'm tired!"

"Sound logic, my love." Faye sighed, settling her daughter into her bed, tucking her in with her favorite stuffed unicorn. The little girl was asleep before Faye even reached the door, curled up around her stuffie with her little tush up in the air.

"Sorry you had to see that. She really hates going down for a nap when she's having fun."

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to get her wound up." Henry apologized, removing the plastic crown from his head.

"Don't worry about it, she's just happy to have more guests at her tea party." Faye assured, picking up the plastic dishes and putting them back in the toy box.

"She was quite insistent we join, though I do think Kal enjoyed getting dressed up." Henry chuckled, beginning to remove the dog's costume.

"Good thing you agreed, otherwise you would have faced the wrath of Briar." Faye giggled, noticing the unicorn and rainbow stickers all over Henry's back.

"It was a pleasure attending her party. She is quite a wonderful host." Henry laughed, stowing the costumes back in the toy box. "Now, I do believe you requested help with a cake for our little party host."

"Yes, right this way." Faye waved, heading off to her tiny eat in kitchen. "What do we need?"

"Well... you have an oven, so that's a start. I brought the ingredients with me. Do you happen to have a cake pan?" Henry listed, opening the fridge and removing the bag he'd brought along.

"I have a glass baking pan." Faye offered.

"We will work with that." Henry agreed. "Now, measuring cups?"

"They are around here somewhere."

"Do you know how to use them?" Henry teased, setting the ingredients from the bag onto the counter.

"Vaguely. I just usually eyeball everything when I cook." Faye admitted.

"That won't work with baking. It's a science and the measurements have to be exact." Henry explained. "So, we'll start with the dry ingredients. Can you measure out two cups of flour?"

"I have no idea where the cup is. I have half a cup."

"Four of those, then." Henry absently mumbled, scanning over his mother's recipe card again. He glanced over to see her attacking the bag of flour with the measuring cup, wincing to himself as he watched. "Faye?"

"Mmhmm?"

"Forgive me for asking, but do you know how to measure flour?" Henry asked, cringing when she tried to smooth the top down with her hand, causing a flour explosion in her face.

"I'm guessing what I just did wasn't right."

"Not quite." Henry chuckled, stepping behind her, taking her hand in his and dumping the flour back into the bag. "You can use a spoon to sift it. Packed flour and unpacked flour are two totally different measurements." He explained, handing her a spoon and taking her other hand in his, showing her how to sift the flour into the measuring cup.

Faye tried to keep her cool and ignore the fact that Henry Cavill was pressed up behind her, holding her hands and showing her how to measure flour like it was the most natural thing in the world. Surely this was just some dream and if it was, no one had better wake her up.

"Got it?" Henry asked, turning his head to look at her, snapping her from her thoughts. Faye did her best not to stare at his lips, so close and yet so far away. She could just lean in...

"Yeah, got it." She quickly confirmed, forcing her attention back to the task at hand.

And so it went, Henry leading the way through the mysterious land of baking, Faye following blindly behind. He even let her lick the spoon when he was done with it, and he in no way stared in awe at the way her tongue moved around it. He was a gentleman, after all, and imagining what else that tongue could do would be highly inappropriate.

It wasn't until after the cake had been pulled from the oven to cool that Briar woke up, wandering into the kitchen with her now disheveled princess costume still on, her hair sticking out in strange angles as she rubbed her eyes.

"You're here!" Briar gasped, taking notice of the giant in the room and scurrying over to him, throwing her arms around his legs.

"Nice to know where I stand." Faye pouted as Henry scooped the girl up, her daughter not even glancing her way in favor of talking to Henry.

"Can we play dollies?" Briar asked, batting her thick dark lashes at him, her chubby lip sticking out in a pout.

"I've never played before, you'll have to show me how." Henry agreed, smiling down at the little girl held securely in his arm.

"Mommy, you look silly!" Briar giggled, finally looking over at her mother.

"That's not nice." Faye gently scolded.

"What on your face?" Briar asked.

"Mommy had an incident with the flour." Henry explained. Shit. Had she really spent the last hour, practically drooling over her guest with flour all over her face? She really should write a book on how to flirt. No doubt, it would be a best seller.

"I'm gonna go get cleaned up." Faye mumbled, her face heating up beneath the flour coating as she ducked her head and beelined down the hall.

"I'll be learning how to play dolls." Henry chuckled after her, carrying the toddler back to the living room so her mother could shower in peace.

Fifteen minutes later, Briar was still explaining the different names of her dolls and stuffed animals, piling each on top of Henry and resorting to stuffing them under Kal's paws when she ran out of room on her semi-willing captive. Faye cracked the bathroom door open and glanced to the living room to make sure her guest was thoroughly distracted before she slipped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped tightly around herself as she snuck down the hall to her bedroom, breathing a sigh of relief when she closed the door behind herself. She could almost convince herself he was interested in her with the couple times she'd caught him looking her way when he thought she wouldn't notice. No need to scare him off with her mom-bod now.

Sure, it hadn't been that hard on her figure. She wasn't left with the same saggy stomach her mother had after her pregnancies, but then again, her mother had carried two sets of twins almost to term. Talk about a superwoman. Though she did decide no more children after her younger brother and sister had been born.

"You keep giving me a two for one deal, I'm not doing this again!"

Good times. Good times. The wonders of having twins running strongly in your family. Faye had only given birth to one, but she still bore the stretch marks on her stomach and breasts, and the loose skin on her stomach had never really gone back to the way it was before.

Faye was shaken from her thoughts by her daughter's all too familiar exclamation coming from behind her. "Mommy, you're nakie!" She would never understand her daughter's near obsession with pointing out the fact that she was in fact, naked during and directly after showers, but it was without a doubt one of her favorite hobbies. Right behind tea parties if she had to guess.

"Wait, what? Oh!" That was not her daughter's voice. Faye's head snapped up to find Briar's chubby hand wrapped tightly around Henry's little finger, his other hand clapped firmly over his eyes. "I am so sorry! She wanted to get her stuffed dragon, I did not know this was your room!"

Faye snatched her towel off the bed and wrapped it around herself again, grabbing the dragon from the pillow and handing it off to Briar. The little girl happily took her dragon and led Henry back down the hall, not bothering with the door. The wonders of being young and innocent. She had no clue what she had just done.

Faye quickly shut the door herself, remembering to turn the lock this time, though it was a moot point by then. She threw on a tank top, leggings and her fluffy socks before forcing herself to venture back out. Henry was actually sitting on the couch this time, doing his best to focus on what the little girl was saying, though truth be told, his mind kept wandering back to the quick glimpse he had gotten of Faye's backside before he registered what was going on. It was even better than the glances he had gotten when she bent over in front of him to rummage through her make up bag. Nice and round, plump yet firm. The kind of ass you just want to squeeze as you're-

"So... " Faye started awkwardly, quickly breaking Henry out of his own head. "Lunch sound good?"

"Chocolate sandwiches!" Briar quickly suggested, hugging her stuffed bunny to her chest as she bounced around.

"It looks like I'm making chocolate sandwiches, though I could probably also manage a peanut butter and jelly."

"I wouldn't want to impose, though I did want to apologize again-"

"Accident's happen, but we are going to pretend that one didn't, ok?" Faye interjected. "So nutella or peanut butter and jelly?"

"Umm... either is fine."

"Briar, keep them company while mommy makes lunch, ok?" Faye suggested, going back to the kitchen before her false confidence faded. If he was on board with repressing and denying, so was she.

Now, only one questioned remained: Would Henry prefer his sandwiches cut into dinosaurs or puzzle pieces?

[hotpinkhoshi]

kiss it better | prologue

pairing: mark tuan x reader

genre: angst, smut, brother’s best friend au (sort of)

warnings: age gap (nine years), cursing, explicit sex, slow burn

summary: you were off limits for more reasons than mark could count. but everything changed for him the day you walked into his tattoo shop with those big innocent eyes and a laugh like his favorite song. he couldn’t. he wouldn’t. and yet…

✩ index here ✩

Your favorite thing about living on your own, hands down, was having the freedom to eat ice cream whenever you pleased. 

It had been a hot summer in Seoul, hot enough that you couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone out without being painfully aware of the sweat on the back of your neck and the space where your thighs touched each other.

Today was hotter than yesterday had been. Sticky and humid, like it needed to rain. You’d gone out with your new friend, Yiren, to shop for some new records. Well, she shopped for records—you bought a cheap ice cream bar from the convenience store around the corner. 

While waiting outside of the record store for Yiren to check out, you leaned against the side of a bench while taking in the area. 

You’d moved to Seoul at the start of the summer, and you still felt like a little fish in a big pond. The big, wide world awaited you, and you were desperate to see every inch of it. 

A couple giggled outside of a bakery next to you. You tried not to stare as the boy, tall and gangly, wrapped his arms around the female and pulled her into his chest. You wondered how it felt to be held like that. 

Across the road, a stark contrast to the pale pink and yellow scheme of the bakery, sat a tattoo shop. Paradise Tattoo, the sign read, in neon blue. A dark haired man, maybe your age or a little older, sat on the steps drinking an iced coffee while bobbing his head to whatever was playing on his earbuds. Even from afar you could make out the sleeve on his left arm, made up of swirls and lines of black ink. 

He lifted his head from his phone and caught your eye. You blinked and quickly looked away, gasping when your sudden movement caused the top scoop of your ice cream to topple onto the street.

“Noooooo,” you whined, a full pout forming on your lips. You’d barely even gotten to take a full bite. 

“Sucks,” you heard Yiren say from behind you. She had a plastic bag of records, so full you were honestly surprised she could carry it. 

You sighed, tossing the empty cone into the trash can next to you. “And I thought today would be a good day.”

Yiren laughed as she bounded up to you, linking her free arm through yours. “It is a good day. You got paid today, remember? What do you wanna do with all your cash?”

You snorted, fully prepared to make a comment about how you needed to save for a security deposit on an apartment. Your eyes drifted back to the tattoo shop, but the man sitting there was gone. You chewed your lip and glanced back at Yiren, nodding towards the shop. 

“I’ve never been in a tattoo shop before. Want to check it out?”

Yiren, as usual whenever you expressed one more thing you’d never done before, gasped dramatically. “You what?! I swear, Y/N, you should be in a museum. You’re so cute.”

When she moved to pinch your cheeks, you swatted her hands away. “Gah. Let’s just go.” 

You dragged her across the street and up the few steps that lead to the front door of the shop. You heard a ding once the door was halfway opened, signaling your entrance. The cool air of the shop comforted you immediately, offering you some relief from the sticky air outside.

It sort of looked how you’d imagined it, but brighter. There was hard metal blasting on the speakers above you, with framed drawings of all sorts of tattoo styles adorning the deep red walls. 

Doubling as a desk, on your left side was a glass jewelry display case with different earrings and bars that were used for piercings in various body parts. Sitting behind this desk was a girl with bright green hair and thick framed glasses. 

“Hi! Do you have an appointment?” she asked cheerily, her tone the complete opposite of what you’d expected. You’d never seen anyone with a neck tattoo, but she had hers proudly displayed—a snake traveling from her chest and around towards the nape of her neck, the head appearing on the other side. 

“Um,” you said, glancing towards Yiren. 

She jumped in. “No. Do you talk walk ins? My friend was thinking about getting a tattoo.” 

“I-” you started, your eyes widening at Yiren. “I haven’t decided yet.”

The girl behind the counter nodded and turned around in her swivel chair, reaching for a big black binder that was sitting upon a shelf behind her. 

“Here, we have some photos and drawings of previous tattoos our artists have done. We have five artists. Youngjae, Jackson, Mark, and Yugyeom. And me, but I mostly do piercings. Do you have any idea what you’re looking for?” 

You flipped open the binder, greeted on the first page by a portrait of a very voluptuous, very naked woman that had been tattooed onto someone’s leg. It took a conscious effort not to show your shock, simply because you didn’t need Yiren cooing at you again. 

“Well, I like…” you thought about it as you continued flipping the next few pages, until you came upon a drawing of a rose, a soft pink color that reminded you of the bakery across the street. There was a series of pages full of drawings of flowers, different types and shades of the rainbow. “Who did these? These are beautiful.” 

“Ah,” the girl nodded, leaning her chin upon her hand. “That would be Mark. He’s great at flowers, they’re sort of his specialty. Youngjae does beautiful portraits. Jackson’s shading is unbelievable. And Yugyeom is new, but his lines are incredible.” 

Yiren snickered next to you. “It must be great working with all these guys.” 

The girl raised her eyebrows, an amused smirk on her lips. “Please. They’re not exactly my type.”

Just as Yiren opened her mouth for a follow up question, a male voice called from the direction of the hallway to your left. 

“Dahyun, did you get any napkins from the coffee shop? Yugyeom spilled his shit all over-” 

Looking up, you saw a guy walking towards you. Perfectly styled hair, a chiseled jawline, and tattoos covering both of his very toned arms. He stopped in his tracks, then gave you an apologetic bow.

“Sorry, I didn’t know we had a customer.”

Dahyun rolled her eyes and grabbed for a stack of napkins next to her. “Here. And tell Yugyeom he’s on mop duty tonight.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” The guy saluted Dahyun, then turned on his heel and jogged back down the hallway to one of the rooms. 

“Anyway,” Dahyun continued. “We do take walk ins. It’s been slow today, honestly, so if you wanted to get a smaller piece we could probably make it work. Youngjae’s tattooing someone right now, but other than that, it’s wide open.”

You gulped. Now that it was real, you were feeling a bit panicked. But you were drawn to the image of the pale lilac flower on the page in front of you, as if it was calling to you. As silly as it sounded, just looking at it brought you a sense of calm. 

“Could I… could I get this?” you asked meekly. 

Dahyun turned her head to view the picture, then nodded her head. “Of course. Do you know where you want it?”

You looked at Yiren, a question in your eyes. It had to be somewhere you could hide it. Your parents strongly disapproved of tattoos. To be fair, they disapproved of every aspect of your life already, so how much worse could it get? Still, you wanted the option to cover it up if you needed to. 

“You could get it on your ribs, maybe?”

Dahyun inhaled sharply. “Ah, I wouldn’t recommend that. Hurts like a bitch. Shoulders and hips are pretty painless though, that’s where a lot of newbies get their first.” 

Worrying at your lower lip, you stared down at the flower once more, then up at Dahyun. “The back of my shoulder, would that be okay?” 

“It’s your party, princess. It shouldn’t hurt too much, and if you get it small enough it’ll be over before you know it.” 

Dahyun went ahead and printed out the sketch after you told her just how big you wanted it, and modified the color to a deeper purple. She went back to talk to the artist, Mark, then returned a few minutes later and told you to follow her back. 

“He’s ready for you. We’ll go over all the aftercare and fun stuff once it’s all done, okay?” she said as she led the two of you back to Mark’s room. You stuffed your shaking hands into the pockets of your shorts, not wanting him to see how nervous you were. 

Once you came to the threshold of the room, you first noticed all of the drawings on the walls. Not just flowers, but trees, portraits, still life sketches… all of it. Apparently flowers weren’t the only thing this guy could draw. 

Mark had his back to you, sifting through a box full of colored ink bottles. You realized without even seeing his face that this was the guy you’d seen on the steps of the shop earlier. Up close, you could see more of his sleeve. Right on the back of his arm was a large tattoo of a lion’s face, jaw wide open in a roar. 

“Sorry, go ahead and sit-” he started as he turned towards you, his jaw dropping once he made eye contact. “Y/N?”

It took you a long moment to realize where you knew him from, and it wasn’t just because you’d seen him across the road earlier. You hadn’t seen him in at least six years, but you knew him right away. How could you not have recognized him before? 

You’d practically grown up with him. He’d eaten countless dinners at your family table while your mom fawned over him and pinched his cheeks, asking why your older brother couldn’t be more like him. 

The last time you’d seen him was Taehyung’s going away party just before he left for his year-long backpacking experience in Europe. You’d only been sixteen at the time, but Mark was nine years older than you. 

Besides the sleeve of tattoos and the deep red hair he was sporting, he hadn’t changed much since then.

“Mark?”

full chapter one to be posted march 17th, 7pm est

[holylulusworld]

A man out of time

Summary: Steve wakes from the ice only to find everything he knew is gone. Can you help him?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: angst, Steve being a man out of time, comforting, sadness

Lost. That’s how Steve feels when he steps out of the Shield headquarter. He can punch as many punching bags or walls as he wants to, but his life is gone.

Peggy is gone. Bucky is gone. His whole world just gone in the blink of an eye.

Well, at least to Steve. One moment he was on the plane, talking to Peggy and the next moment he wakes to a world which isn’t his anymore.

People tried to lie to him. Tried to pretend he did not get ripped out of his time but here he is. Standing in the middle of an exhibition of his life.

“Oh, do you like Captain America too?” A soft voice rips Steve out of his daydreams. He’s hiding behind a trench-coat, thick sunglasses, and a base cap. “I heard he’s alive. Can you believe this?”

“No.” Steve chokes out. He wants to leave but then you say something he never heard someone say to him before.

“That’s awful. He sacrificed his life to save the world and now he has to live in a world which isn’t his any longer. I am afraid he’s terrified. Imagine coming from the ’40s and being confronted with things that are normal to us. I…I wish we could help him…”

“You would help him?” Steve gives you as soft smile as you point toward a picture of Bucky and him. 

“He lost his friends, his world and I bet he had a girl at home waiting for him. Such a tragedy. Don’t you think? He deserves better than this.” A single tear slips down your cheek and Steve captures it with his thumb.

“Don’t cry. A pretty dame as you should never cry.” Giggling at his odd words you give him a shy smile. “This world, it’s strange to me.”

“Same, Mister. Hey, uh—this might be strange to you but if you ever need someone to talk to…here.” Handing Steve your business card you shrug. “Don’t worry, it’s free for you.”

“Grief counselor?” Steve reads your card. 

“I…I lost someone a few years ago. No one was able to help me and I was close to…” Sniffling you squeeze Steve’s hand.

“Let’s say I wanted to give up. I met this woman, at the hospital and she was the only one understanding me as she lost her husband too.”

“I am sorry to heart, ma’am. I…I’ll keep it in mind.” Steve stammers. “I am afraid I don’t have what people call a mobile phone.”

“Oh—that’s no problem, Sir. You can send me a letter or come to my office. Well, it’s rather a room in my house but if you ever need help, come by. My door is always open.”

“Thank you…” Watching you walk away Steve tugs the card into his wallet. He won’t take your offer but it’s a nice reminder that there are still kind people out there. 

Walking down the street Steve tries to get used to the noises, the people rushing by and the shopping windows stuffed full of things no one will ever need.

He’s taking a shortcut, at least Steve thought so as he gets lost in the middle of Brooklyn, his home, the place he should know by heart but there is nothing left matching his memory.

Before he gets lost completely, he stopped at a café, the waitress is nice, even asks him for an autograph and then she’s gone, not sparing him a second glance.

Steve gets his sketch block out to draw you. He still remembers your face, the way you smiled at him, and the sadness hidden behind your beautiful y/e/c eyes.

For a moment he just draws your eyes, tries to capture your beauty but surrounded by too many people, noises, and the constant ringing of phones he can’t concentrate.

He gives up, pays for the pie he never tried, and silently walks toward the train.

Steve tries not to make eye contact with anyone. He learned fast that people nowadays believe you try to provoke them or have something bad in mind if you look too long at a person.

Nervously he sits on his place, glances out of the dirty windows as he tries to remember better times. He’s nervously rubbing his thumb into his hand, close to letting out a sigh as he remembers your face again.

Alone again. He should be glad that he’s finally alone at the apartment Shield offered to him but now the deafening silence makes him go crazy.

Sitting on his desk he glances at the picture he tried to draw of you. He still got your card hidden safe in his wallet, so he does the only thing coming to his mind. Steve grabs his sketching block to find you…

“Stay safe. Promise me to call if you need help.” Helping your last client to get into her nephews’ car you give her a soft smile. “I know it’s hard to lose a child, but do not give up. I…I know the feeling of hopelessness too well.”

“Thank you. I promise to pay you next time.” Your client whispers but you shush her. “How about you bake me one of your famous pies and we are even.”

Steve hides behind a tree, watching you wave at your client. A soft smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as you drop your keys, cursing.

“Hi.” He steps closer, his sketch block still in his hands Steve gives you a hopeful smile. “You said if I ever need someone to talk to…” Unsure if you will let him months later Steve looks at you. “I can go…”

“No. Come in. This was my last client and I got more pie in my fridge than a bakery. If you want to, we can talk, or we can just sit in my backyard and enjoy the sun.” Steve nods eagerly, following you into your house.

“I like your house. It’s…” Steve smiles as you close the door behind him. 

“Old-fashioned?” Nodding Steve follows you into the kitchen, admiring your 40’s wallpaper. “My mom had a thing for your time, Captain Rogers.”

“You knew, didn’t you?” Steve laughs as you give him a curt nod. “Why didn’t you say a thing?”

“I know how it feels when the need to be alone becomes too strong. I didn’t want to disturb you but I also had the feeling you need a friend.” Shrugging you open your fridge to have a look at the pies. “Cherry, blueberry or apple pie, Captain?”

“Apple pie,” Steve whispers as you get the plate out. 

“There’s nothing more patriotic than eating apple pie in a 40’s style house with Captain America.” Steve watches you place the pie onto the table to get plates and forks for both of you.

“Nothing more patriotic than a kind person offering help. I saw and heard what you did. Do you even earn money this way?” Smiling you point toward a free chair. 

“I have enough money for a lifetime. My father, he owned one of the most beneficial company’s. I sold it to Tony Stark after my father’s death. My father, he was a …” 

“Capitalist?” Steve ends your line and you nod, sitting next to him to cut the pie.

“He was fair, Mr. Stark. I got some billions on my bank account so; I do this for free. My clients, they try to pay me, won’t accept my help for free so I donate the money or eat a lot of pie.” Laughing you hand Steve a fork.

“Why living in Brooklyn in an old townhouse in that case?” Searching your face Steve curses himself for asking you such a stupid question.

“I had a nice large house in Manhattan. I was…” Looking for the right word you sigh deeply. “Back then I was a spoiled rich brat. My husband and I, we lived the life of billionaires and all but then…”

Hiding your face in the palms of your hands you choke out a sob. “One night Richard, that was my husband's name he…he was drunk and we fought. Somehow he ended up sleeping in the guest room. He forgot his cigarette and…”

“There was a fire?” Whispering the words Steve grasp for your hand to squeeze it tightly.

“We were too engrossed in fighting over a stupid luxury vacation and diamonds to enjoy life." Swallow the lump in your throat you fall silent.

“The fire, it spread out. Richard was dead within minutes, just like my baby boy…” Sniffling you feel Steve bring you into his arms and you wrap your body around the tall man.

“I am so sorry, doll.” Steve husks and you sob into his shoulder.

“I was lucky as I loved sleeping with an open window, even during winter. The firefighter found me unconscious but alive. Richard, Michael, and our nanny were found dead. Smoke Intoxication according to the coroner.”

You hold tight onto Steve, crying into his shoulder why he does what he can best. Helping someone.

“After I came out of the hospital, I remembered my grandma’s old townhouse. My mom restored it years ago, and I wanted to get out of Manhattan, so I moved here and stayed.”

Looking up at Steve you let him wipe away your tears. “Didn’t you come here to get help? Now I ruined your shirt and mood with my sob story, Steve. How about we have tea, pie and talk a bit about your problems.”

“I am a man out of time, doll. But…” Now he gives you a shy smile. “I think I found a reason to like this new world. Maybe I found a place I like.”

“If you do not like your home…” Biting your lower lip you take a deep breath. “I have a spare room and need a man in my house to help me fix stuff. The sink is dripping, and I am pretty sure the lawnmower hates me.” Humming Steve looks at the pie on the table.

“If I get free pie and your company, I’ll fix all you want, ma’am.” Now you laugh at his serious expression. “Where shall I start?”

“Today, we will do whatever you want, Captain. How about you tell me how it felt to wake from the ice. I know it must’ve been hard.”

“When I woke in that room all I could think about was that I’ll make it to my date with Peggy. I was happy and wanted to leave only to realize it was a lie. She had a whole life while I was sleeping. I…I feel lost…”

“One day Steve, you’ll find a purpose in all of this. For now, let’s start with me telling you all I know about this world…”

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[popculturebuffet]

Pinky and the Brain: A Pinky And the Brain Christmas Review or I Just Think Schotzie’s Neat

Christmas Continues on this blog... and getting away from one set of Christmas commissions and into another, I offered my friend Blahdiddy three commissions as a present. The other two we’ll get to eventually, but with Animaniacs on the brain, heh, due to the reboot, he selected two Pinky and the Brains and one Animaniacs for me to cover. And while I intended to cover this one sometime this month anyway, my friend’s recent and sad covid diagnosis meant i’m bumping this one all the way up to the front of the line so he has some christmas cheer during this rough time. So with that in mind let’s talk about pinky, pinky and the brain brain brain brain brain shall we? Of course we can’t really talk about pinky and the brain without talking about Animaniacs. I absolutely love the series, I grew up with it as a kid and reconnected with it as an adult when it ended up on netflix. It was smart, well animated and most importantly really fucking funny. I highly recommend checking both the original and reboot of it out some time if you have Hulu. Speaking of the reboot while I might go on in full about it at some point it’s pretty good, with some creatvie jokes, some nice updates, with Rita Anita Anrita being a great new addition to the warner side of things. It’s only real flaw is it gets a bit reptitious as for the most part there’s only really the warners and pinky and the brain with a few exceptions one of which DAMN well deserved at least two segments and we all know which one that is. 

Bring.. this.. to series. The warners and pinky and the brain segments weren’t bad, but as is inevitible in a screwball comedy some just weren’t as good as others and those fell harder when you’ve already seen 2 or 3 better versions of this sort of skit in the season. They did really find their groove towards the end and if you like both Animaniacs and Pinky and the Brain, or even just one or the other, it’s worth checking out.  But enough about the reboot let’s talk about those labratory mice whose genes have been spliced. Thanks to wikipedia, I now know the duo were based on Eddie Fitzgerald and Tom Minton, who worked with Tom Rutgeter on Tiny Toon adventures, with menton being the one who came up with Narf, even saying it in one episode of Tiny Tunes. During the creation of animaniacs, Bruce Timm, yes THE Bruce Timm, sketched the two, and Ruetger added mouse ears and the rest was history. Maurice LaMarche was the one who added the Orson Welles to the character, as LaMarche saw the Orson Welles in Brain, ran with it and got the part and a long and storied career in voice acting as a result. In a nice and fitting bit of contrast, Rob Paulsen got the part.. because he was already on the show. Not to downplay Paulsen’s clear talent, I just find it hilarious. 

That’s about what I could dig up on the behind the scenes of the show. From what I can tell it was greenlit because Animaniacs was a massive it, and Pinky and the Brain was the most popular segment, so it just made sense. The show would likewise be a massive sucess with both adults and kids, and go on for three seasons and what should legally be considered a war crime. 

For those of you blissfully unaware yeah, that happened, no no one people actually LIKED from Tiny Toons was in it. And yeah if you want me to talk about it commission it otherwise not going near this one. While I do need to tackle more bad animation... I’ve successfully avoided watching an episode of this show for 22 years next wedsday, I’m not breaking the streak for free. 

But some.. things aside I remembered liking the series as a kid but just never got around to seeking it out as an adult. I had nothing against the animaniacs segments and I even still have a stuffed brain doll I got at a garage sale.. the pinky is sadly missing and persumed dead. I just wasn’t as bit into it as I was the slappy bits rewatching animaniacs and didin’t really see reason to watch the show. Watching this though made me realize I was wrong and I probably watch more of it in the future This special is damn good, i’m pleased ot review it and to revive and old childhood memory. So with all the exposition out of the way let’s talk Pinky, PInky and the brain brain brain brain christmas edition after the cut. 

This was indeed a special: while it was presumably produced with season one of the show and is packaged with it both on DVD and on Hulu, where I watched it, the special was aired in prime time and even put on it’s own VHS.. which I found out and of course, like with my review of the Darkwing Duck Pilot, had to use as the art for old VHS’ tapes for cartoons.. was really fucking beautiful and it’s a nice break from my traditional screencaps.   So we open with a clever Christmas rendition of the theme, frequently sprinkling in bits of other christmas stuff, utterly fantastic. The intro animation is less impressive as it’s literally just the regular intro but with a stock snow effect over everything. In case you thought Ducktales doing that was a new thing. I do not blame the team however, as apparently they only had a week to get the scripts out, so I highly doubt warner was forking out more cash for the animation than they had to. They still forked out enough to make it LOOK really good mind you, something I wish they’d do more often with their DTV Movies but do do with their animated shows still with certain exceptions so good on them, i’m just saying they clearly cared more about money than having a memorable christmas opening. Given a budget to actually make one, i’m sure the animators would’ve come up with something lovely, and i’m sure the same is true of Ducktales and other shows and like i’ve said, i’m highly in favor of shows actuallly doing unique openings for the holidays, especially since Holiday episodes tend to get reaired every year as long as the show is in circulation on the network. Sometimes even if it isn’t. So it’s fully worth the effort to fork out a little extra for this as while you’ll most likely only use it once, you’ll be using the special for years. You can afford to treat yourself networks come on. It’s...

Just like Pinky, Elmyra and the Brain. But onto the episode itself after 80 years. We find Pinky writing his Christmas list to santa, complete with Narf, a gag I like. As usual for a comedy show, I will try to gloss over as much of the gags as possible, to avoid repetttion but yeah this episode is really damn funny and reminded me just how good these characters are. Maurice and Rob just have perfect chemistry. It’s like Tom and Jerry: It’s a very simple premise, that one being “Cat chases mouse and Mouse beats shit out of mouse”, and pinky and the brain of course being “Super genuis mouse and dimwitted but loveable sidekick try and takeover the world eveyr night”. But a simple premise can be used just about anywhere and adapated for anything. To me a cartoon’s premise only has to be as complicated as it needs to be to work. Sometimes you have a vast complex tapestry behind the world like She Ra, Steven Universe or Avatar with lots of planning and ins and outs and deep character stuff.. and sometimes you just have two mice who get into shenanigans because one is a would be dictator who sounds like orson welles and the other’s a loveable british weirdo/moron. Sometimes simple just works. 

Anyways, Brain, noticing Pinky’s distracted and replaces himself with a horrifying poorly made doll of himself called Noodle Noggin, which is both an excellent name and not the only time they’d use the name either, as there was an animaniacs short about Brain making himself a fad to endear himself to the children of the future with the same name. It’s just an inherently funny set of words, but also shows Brain’s genius in a subtle and clever way as he never spells it out, but despite sounding kind of ridiculous for such a buttoned up intellectual like brain... he knows that’s the kind of name kids will eat up. His schemes may often fail, but he’s an objectively brilliant schemer and i’ts often either PInky’s incompetence or his own miscalculation of humanity, either over or underestimating them, that undoes Brain.  Back to the plot, so Brain’s plan is to distribute noodle noggins around the world, make it the hot new toy, and as always, take over the world. Problem is naturally two Mice simply don’t have the resources to make the billions of dolls. But PInky stumbles upon the solution in the paper: a want ad for elves! Everything about that sentence except “pinky stumbles upon the solution” has not aged paticuarlly well, but point is they have a plan and we have our christmas special.  This does bring me to my one problem with the special.. Brain’s weird inconsistency towards Santa. What I mean is he spends the portion doubting Santa can do anything he’s claimed to despite being proven frequently he can. That part is not all that annoying as it’s in character with him and while yes, he is a talking mouse, he’s also a man of science and reason and Santa is the opposite of that. That would be fine... IF it wasn’t for the fact that said magical bollocks weren’t constantly part of his plans. Despite Brain constantly throughought the special doubting Santa... his plans FREQUENTLY rely on everything we’ve heard about him being right. His initial plan here ENTIRELY runs on the fact Santa has a massive workforce to make the toys yet even if that’s true by Brain’s own logic, he wouldn’t be able to deliver them. Later when the boys need to escape, They hide with the Reindeer despite Brain just saying santa can’t be everywhere in one night.. which if he can’t then the odds are slim he’ll wind up at Acme Labs isn’t it? It would be fine if the special acknowledged any of this outside of one bit we’ll get to, but other than that one bit.. they don’t. IT’s just really frustrating and really sticks out since the rest of the special is perfection, so this one failing bit really grates. That being said, it dosen’t last long enough to really drag the episode down as a whole, just to annoy me a bit every so often. It speaks to the episodes quality that the bad part ONLY drags so much because everything else is so well put together.  So our boys head to the north pole with the help of a kooky pilot and a santa dummy, this pilot is voiced by Tress MacNeile and is easily one of the best parts of the special. And naturally given their luck, she asks them to take the wheel so the plane instead jerks and causes them to fall out. Luckily they end up near Santa’s workshop and soon apply for temp work with local head of things and gruff type Shotzie, played by Jeff Bennett. And yes that is his name.  I like Shotzie: he’s a goateed elf and Bennett just plays him well.. hard to explain honestly I may just like his name and Bennett’s voice for him, one he used before in animanaics for various bit parts and in shows after this, it’s just a voice i’ve always liked. 

They get put to work in the mail room, which is the bit I mentioned: Brain earlier scoffed at Santa answering all the letters with Pinky simply suggesting that Santa had his elves go through all of them. Turns out Pinky was right... while he may be a BIT stupid, one intresting thing i’ve found about Pinky after watching the reboot that ironically the friend who comissioned this and I discussed is that he’s not ENTIRELY stupid, it’s just , much like Dan from Dan Vs his knowledge is just random.. he can not know how a lot of things work, but sometimes like in this instance Pinky generally just GETS something. It’s part of why he and Brain are such a good team despite their failures: Brain is all about planning and thought and research, Pinky is about intuition and gut instinct. He just does things and it often works out. This also makes their recently added backstories all the more brilliant as they explain this well: Pinky started life just being told to find the diffrence in cheeses and thus was taught form childhood to trust in himself and his weird brain. Brain was cruelly torturued with an experiment on learned behaviors via electroshock, and was taught to never give up control again, to always know what’s going on and to always control it. It perfectly sums up who the two are and why they are that way.  Brain however quickly pivots, as the mail room ends up being the perfect location to start his plans. Since their job is to file away what each person wants Brain simply adds Noodle Noggin to it and plans to put his plans into the workshop. While Santa and Schotzie are suprised and baffled, Santa quickly adds it to the list. However things hit a snag when Schotzie gets supscious when the two try to sneak into the blueprint room to drop theirs off and he accidently yanks off their disguises leading to a REALLY fun chase scene, as the boys end up in a toy wherehouse and thus try out various toy cars: a barbie dream car that dosen’t have a working motor, a toy truck that dosen’t go very fast, and finally an rc car that while fast naturally just means Schotzie can grab it and capture them. It’s easily my faviorite scene of the episode just for how clever it is and as someone whow as a kid around the time this came out, I applaud the accuracy.. granted I didn’t have any of those personally but I had lots of friends so yeah. 

So our heroes are interrogated.. and again Brain brilliantly pivots. Schotzie assumes since they have the blueprints their spies for the easter bunny or the tooth fairy or Herschel, the Hanukah Goblin. Why Herschel never got his own Hannukah special trying to stop Pinky and the Brain from using it to take over the world, I genuinely do not know and that’s something the reboot really needs to adress in the future. Seriously Hannukah needs a mascot and it’s either Herschel or the Hannukah Zombie. Kwanza already has Kwanzabot. I want to see more of Herschel the Hannukah Goblin dammit!. I love goblins. Especially this one.

And this one

And most of all this one

I likes goblins. It’s a thing. So anyway, point is Schotize has the blueprints taken in while our boys slip out and sucessfully make their way outside, though they have to find a way home to turn on the mind control device. They see Santa and brain being a dick refuses to let pinky hand in his letter.. but does as mentioned earlier have them pose as reindeer.  So our heroes make their way home and in time to be able to activate the device once santa’s route’s finished!

And.. then land directly on the mind control device thing, meaning they now have to scramble to repair it. Oh and Pinky is inconsolable after realizing Santa didn’t get his letter and Brain is a HUGE dick about it. Easily the worst i’ve seen him just far more focused on his machine than his friend’s wel lbeing especially since ALL he needs from pinky is for him to throw one lousy switch. 

But we then get easily the best part of the entire special. As Brain scrambles to rebuild his device while abusing his best friend we get a really nice tense sequence as Brain rebuilds while kids all over the world warmly receive noodle noggin. I mean.. it’s not the creepiest doll I’ve seen a kid enjoy. 

Also Bill Clinton gets one because the series apparently really likes “Bill Clinton is stupid jokes” Oh you poor innocent dears who haven’t had to suffer through the president being revealed to be a sexual predator, the one after him being even dumber if not a predator, the one after that being easily one of the best people around, and the outgoing one being a waking nightmare whose both a preadator and dumb beyond all comprehension ina dangerous and soul crushing way. 

But yeah onto the good part, Brain, for whatever reason, reads the letter.. and finds Pinky asked for nothing. He just wanted to give Brain the world at long last, recognizing his friend really and genuinely means well for it and that he’s worked hard to conquer it. And with that goal in reach, with the very thing he’s always wanted his... Brain instead uses the device to wish a merry christmas. He sees through his friend’s kindess and selflessness that he himself.. has been selfish once again turning something into a world destroying plot and being cruel to his best friend... when all his best friend wanted was to selflessly make sure he finally got what he wanted. It’s then that Brain, for all his cold and cynical logic and superiority complex, realized the true meaning of christmas, which i’ve said before and i’ll say again: it’s about giving, about giving someone something with your heart and soul just to be nice with no expectation of something in return. It’s about being selfless for once instead of selfish. I’ts about love. And Brain loves his friend too much to destroy his faviorite holiday. For once the world can wait.. and for once they all join in saying merry christmas to one another and in love and camradire. And I know not everyone celebrates christmas, there are other winter holidays and not everyone in the world would willingly do this. I know all that.. but the special has such a well meaning message, I really can’t be mad at that or get into the weeds too much> This isn’t some jackass making an entire movie, of which there have been several, saying “There’s a war on christmas” which instead equates to them just bitching about not everyone celebrating HIS holiday. It’s about a mouse for one moment truly being selfless and putting ihs loyal and faithful friend over his greatest want to give him a nice christmas and to do something nice for the world instead of trying to take it. And that.. that’s really damn heartmelting.  So we end on the two exchanging presents, with it being a little extra heartwarming as Brain likely already got Pinky something meaning even before his big revelation, he really does care beneath all the dope slaps. Pinky got him a keychain of the world and rather than be frustrated like you’d think.. Brain just takes it in stride. It is christmas after all.. the world.. it can wait. For now it’s just the two of them having one moment in time, this merry christmas.  Final Thoughts: If it wasn’t obvious, I loved this freaking special. It’s funny, clever and has one hell of an ending. There isn’t much more to say other than go watch it if you have Hulu.. you will not regret it and a sepcial thanks to Blah for comissioning this. it was an amazing time and is now a competitor for a spot on my best christmas special list. For now though it’s just really good and I say go check it out. Merry christmas, happy holidays and later days. 

[descendantofthesparrow]

Multipart Commission - Harry Hook x Reader - a prince behind the pirate - part 3 - stress

@musicarose​

=

You flourished your hand, ending the signature the paper needed to be approved, “okay my half done” you announced, stretching back in your seat and groaning lightly “alright, i’m gonna get to my dress fitting kay? See you later Ben” he waved you off, intently staring down at the paper he was overviewing.

You ran to Evie’s dorm, smiling as you entered, Mal sitting on her bed wearing her own cotillion dress. “love the dress Mal” you chirped, making her jump and looked to you surprised.

‘oh! Uh thanks,” she muttered distracted, eyes drifting to her mother in the tank.

“just in time (y/n), now here's the form and go get changed so I can make any changes to the size or anything kay?” you nodded and grabbed the light pink dress, going behind her changing setup.

Minutes later you stood on her little platform letting her move your body around and pin the fabric. “so, what do you think” Evie smiled up at you, glancing down you moved your arms around and took a deep breath.

“pretty good! If I could have some gloves that end in a princess point?” Evie beamed and grabbed her measuring tape, grabbing your arm, and started to measure.

“read it fast at lightning speed, remember everything I need” you glanced at Mal, who tossed her spellbook to the side and grabbed a evacuate book, waving her finger around and spelling it.

“Mal please teach me that, It would be so dang helpful for Sundays with my grandma” you laughed, mentally patting yourself on the back as Mal looked to you and gave you a small grin.

“well I think, Mal should give her spellbook to the museum!” Evie grabbed the book, Mal gasping and reaching for it “she doesn’t need it”

“you remember what I was like I couldn't even remember what class I had next without it” Mal whined, reaching for the book.

“I don’t know about you Evie, but I had that book I would use it for the same reasons Mal is using it, it's a lot to go from an isle girl to a lady of the court, there are so many rules and expectations that it's so mentally exhausting keeping up with it all!” you had a habit of talking with your hands so as you ended with your mini-rant you dropped your hands from the air and let them hit your legs.

Mal gave you a grin, the brightest you’ve seen the last couple months, Evie looked from the book to Mal and sighed, placing the book back in Mals lap “I guess you're right, but you have to tell Ben soon, i’m sure he'll understand the pressure you’ve been under to perform”

Mal nodded glumly, picking her book back up and continuing to read. You sighed, glancing at the refined sketch of your dress Evie was shoving in front of you.

“love it Evie! If its no trouble, maybe some more lilac?” Evie smiled and shook her head.

“no problem at all, you, Mal, and Chad are the only ones not done yet, I already finished the others and Jane and Lonnie had their last fittings yesterday” she chirped, grabbing a marker and opening it with her teeth, scribbling in some more lilac in your dress.

“Alright then, I have to get back to my dorm, I have some stuff on my computer that I need to send out Jane” Evie nodded and helped you off the pedestal, and unpinned you.

Three minutes later you left for your dorm, humming your mother's song as you did.

-I know you I walked with you once upon a dream- you smiled as you thought of the black-haired dream boy with the accent.

-I know you~ the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam- you stepped into your room and closed the door behind you, kicking off your shoes and collapsing into your desk chair.

“Alright, let's get to work” you muttered to yourself, clicking on your tablet and refining some décor sketches.

=

Harry pouted as Gil wiggled his brows at him “the dream girl again huh~” he laughed as harry pulled the napkin away, the form of the dream girl messily sketched on to the dark brown napkin.

“shut up” he growled, quickly punching Gil in the arm, causing the teen to yelp and wince as Harry's rings slightly cut into his skin.

“oww!” Gil whined, pouting as harry snickered and stuffed the drawing of dream girl in his pocket.

Uma came out of the kitchen and tossed tray in front off harry, glaring at the tv as she turned, she growled and hit Harry's arm, he lifted his arm allowing Uma to grab one of the crab patties and chuck it at the tv.

“ugh!” harry chuckled as she flicked the residue off her hand and leaned on the table, a nasty look on her face.

“What a poser” harry laughed and glanced at the tv.

“traitor!” Uma glanced around, raising her brow at the crew

“Hello?!” the crew roared, tossing some of their food at the tv.

Harry ducked slightly, a small grin on his lips. “oh I would love to wipe the smiles off their faces” he wiped some mayo from the screen, sticking his finger in his mouth to lick it off “yeh know what I mean?”

“Gil!” he jumped slightly, glancing at Uma, a couple of fries hanging out of his mouth “wanna quit chocking down yolks and get with the program?!”

He swallowed down and gave a nervously smile “yeah what they said?!” Uma rolled her eyes and glared at nothing in front of her.

“that little traitor, who left us in the dirt!”

“and turned her back on evil” harry cooed, lifting a fry and smirking.

“who said you weren’t big or bad enough to join her gang!” the crew went silent, harry sighing from Gil's lack of timing. “ back when we were kids….what? You remember she called her shrimpy and the name just kinda-“ gil caught Harry's eyes, which were yelling at him to shut up “-stuck?” he ended quietly, looking back down at his food.

“that snooty little witch” Uma muttered to him, looking up at him and sneering at the tv “who took everything she wanted and left me nothing”

“no, she left you that sandbox and said that you could-“ Uma slammed her hand on the table, giving a “nice” smile to Gil.

“I need you! To stop talking~” she purred, nodding as Gil shrunk into himself.

“look” Harry pushed his tray away, gesturing out to the isle “we have her turf now, they can stay in boradon-“ Uma groaned and smacked his arm.

“harry that’s her turf now!” she turned off the tv, smacking her hands on the table and leaning back with her heels “and I want it too, we should not be getting her leftovers!”

She turned and smirked at Harry, wrapping her arm around his shoulder “son of hook” she grabbed Gil and pulled him into her side “son of Gaston and me! Most of all daughter of Ursula!” she pushed Gil back to his food and turned to harry.

“what's my name?” harry dropped to a kneeling position, taking off his hat and putting it to his chest. “Uma~” she turned to Gil and repeated.

‘what's my name?”

“oh um, Uma?”

She grinned and turned to the crew. “what's my name!?”

“UMA!” satisfied, Uma nodded, eye-catching the dirty white napkin in Harry's pocket, she smirked and pulled it out, dangling it in front of harry. His eyes widened and he scrambled to grab it.

“Uma!?!” she cackled and looked at the drawing, her eyes softening slightly.

“any new things about dream girl?”

Harry sighed and shook his head “not even a smidge, she was talking about planning about some important event and how shes stressed about it n stuff” Uma stared blankly at him. “wha?”

“you dolt she's planning cotillion, your dream girl is in Auradon!” harry stopped….that made a lot of sense?

Harry groaned and facepalmed “im so stupid”

“you are” Uma stuffed the drawing back in Harry's pocket and walked around the table to grab orders, “tell ya what when we take over she can be your little pet kay?”

Harry shrugged, that was the best he could get in a villain ruled world so he would take it.

It meant that no one else would touch his dream girl at least.

=

You sent the last piece to Jane, sighing and leaning back in your chair, the door suddenly slamming open, you flinched and sat up, Mal rushing in and slamming the door behind her, the muffled voices of the press behind the now-closed door.

She quickly locked it and sighed, starting to walk around the room and breathing heavily. “Mal!” you stood and walked in front of you, holding out your hands. She reached out and grabbed them, holding onto them tightly as she closed her eyes and tried to calm down.

Her eyes flashed open and glowed, her hair flying around slightly and her grip tightening on your hands. “okay okay breathe, breath, it’s a panic attack mal, it'll pass”

With your help Mal managed to calm down, you letting her collapse against your bed, she buried her face in her hands, letting loose a sob. “why can't they just leave me alone for five minutes!!” she screamed.

You sighed and kneeled in front of her, gently prying her hands away, frowning as you saw her red eyes. “I know, I know, it's hard. The press doesn’t really get boundaries, and hardly understand the unspoken rule of ‘don’t harass a minor’ but ya know”

“how do you deal with it” she muttered, sniffing slightly and wiping her cheeks.

“uh, ignore them the best I can and if not smile and wave? Sorry, but i’m no help with it” you smiled, brushing her blonde hair back. “its, unfortunately, something all us royals deal with, trust me, we all hate it, just some of us are better at hiding it”

Mal laughed, taking one more deep breath and sighing “okay, um, I should probably get back to my dorm room now, thanks (y/n)”

You grinned and helped her stand up “no problem”

Mal looked at the window and raised her brow, which you shrugged at “you wouldn’t be the first to sneak out the window to get away from the press” you snickered, watching as Mal just went ahead and climbed out your window.

“see you tomorrow Mal!” she smiled back at you and nodded.

“see you tomorrow” she repeated, hopping out of your window and walking across the ledge to get down easier.

You closed the window and decided to get ready for bed.

Only two more days to cotillion.

--end of part 3--

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taglist for pbtp

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[silver-embersss]

Broken Horns and Broken Hearts Chapter 8

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10

Tubbo had collapsed into bed only a few moments before, but the next the boy knew, he was sitting in yet another meeting, with the rest of the cabinet casting him slightly strange looks as they argued.

He internally panicked, scouring his brain for any memories of getting up, or even walking to the meeting - but there was nothing. A quick check of his timetable confirmed that he’d only lost a few hours this time, instead of two whole days, but that didn’t make it any less terrifying. Where were these sudden gaps in his memory coming from? And why was Quackity staring at him like he’d grown a second head? He shook it off as nothing, perhaps their confrontation last night.

The meeting was followed by another speech, where Schlatt announced a festival to be held in a week, the organising of which was probably going to be delegated to Tubbo on top of the rest. The teen scanned the cityline in boredom, and he was pleasantly surprised to see Wilbur duck behind a parapet. Thankfully, the ex-president couldn’t see him - specifically his horns - from where he stood next to Quackity, but he took a small step back anyway to make sure. Remembering the conversation he had with Tommy yesterday, Tubbo made a mental note to write down the ambush plans they’d discussed earlier and deliver it to the hidden chest.

The gaps in his memory became more frequent as the festival drew near, but Tubbo somehow managed to keep his act together, ignoring the strange looks he got as his horns grew and his patience diminished. The teen also ignored the way his friends talked about him behind his back, denouncing him just because of Schlatt. He simply pretended not to hear the hurt remarks about his grumpiness.

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

Tommy slashed wildly with a stone blade, shards of granite screeching off the wall, and he heard Techno chuckle condescendingly from behind. The teen spun around in irritated tiredness to snap at his older brother.

“At least I’m preparing and not just farming fuckin’ potatoes for three hours straight, dipshit!”

The mocking smile on Techno’s face widened.

“The thing is, Tommy, I don’t need the training - you clearly do.”

“Oh, shut up. Stupid pig bastard.”

Tommy glanced worriedly upwards towards the ravine entrance, where Wilbur stood, currently fucking up his sleep schedule even more. The pig followed his gaze and raised an eyebrow, silently judging his hypocrisy, but Tommy ignored the hint and went back to attempting to massacre the granite wall. L’Mandog could look after Wilbur. They had a war to fight, and if The Blade was going to slack off, well. Then it was down to Tommy to carry their rebellion, wasn’t it?

3 bites of a baked potato later, Techno was back in his farm, both him and Tommy trying their best to pretend each other didn’t exist.

Strangely, it didn’t work.

Eventually, Tommy gave the wall a break and swapped his stone sword out for iron, strapping the bare blade to his hip.

“I’m gonna go check the notebook chest!”

The teen called to Techno, trying not to disturb Wilbur in his moonstruck reverie as he left. Despite his efforts, Tommy felt his brother’s eyes on his back as he crept through the undergrowth.

A few hasty ducks and desperate, pleading headshakes at Niki later, the teen made it to the hillside underneath the prime path that hid the chest. For a split second, he thought he saw a flash of black - Tubbo, maybe? - dash around the corner, but it was gone before he could call out to whoever it was.

A quick glance in ‘the mailbox’ (as Techno called it) revealed the notebook they'd been writing correspondences in, but thrown hastily down on its front, bending the spine. The messy placement was at odds with how it normally lay when it was Tubbo’s turn, but the teen didn’t think much of it other than a muttered curse at the dictator who was keeping his best friend busy doing everything that Schlatt should have been doing.

Tommy skimmed through the rushed explanation of the festival’s weaknesses and snapped a picture of the map Tubbo had painstakingly sketched of the proposed layout. They’d agreed not to use names in the book in case one of them was caught with it, so Tommy just scribbled ‘Thx bitch, hang in there’ on the next page and replaced the book.

For a moment, he entertained the crazy idea of abducting Tubbo so he wouldn’t have to deal with the drunken tyrant, but the thought was soon brushed off due to its impossible nature. Plus, who would be their spy then? Will tried to get in contact with Fundy, but was left on read - the fox was still seemingly bitter about losing the election, even if he did cheat.

After a wistful glance at the half-broken walls, Tommy shoved his communicator back in his pocket, took a step back and fell into a creeper hole.

“Fuck!”

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

It wasn’t long until Tommy came back from the mailbox, but it was 11:30 at night, so Techno once again tried to convince Wilbur to come into the relatively warmer Pogtopia. The ex-president was mumbling a steady stream of nonsense (which was slightly concerning, to say the least) but it wasn’t exactly a strange occurrence.

“Wilbur? Will?”

No response.

“I’ll make you stew if you come in.”

Food usually got the attention of his siblings, especially Tommy, but still Wilbur ignored him. With a sigh, Techno gave up and went back to his farm, giving L’Mandog a pat on the head as he turned away. It wasn’t the best result, but at least he tried, right?

Casting his memory back, the piglin couldn’t remember Tommy eating that day either, so he pulled a cauldron on top of the campfire anyway, letting the water boil while he rummaged in the chests for some steak. Cutting the meat into small cubes, he threw it into the pot alongside some salt and half a clove of chopped garlic. While the pot simmered, Techno sat cross-legged on the ground next to it and got to peeling and chopping some of the potatoes he’d farmed, throwing the peel in a nearby bucket. It didn’t take long for Tommy to come barreling down the narrow stairs, an ecstatic look on his face as he sniffed the air.

“It’ll be ready in a bit.” Techno grunted at him, ignoring his excited yell.

“Do me a favour and get Wilbur.”

The teen raised an eyebrow at him.

“Bet you already tried.”

The piglin glared at him, and Tommy raised his hands in surrender.

“Okay okay, I’m going!”

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

The festival date was set. Planning was under way. All the information had been leaked to the rebels - and yet Tubbo couldn’t help but feel he was missing something important. The feeling was so urgent, he’d checked off lists a million times and gone over everything with Quackity a million-and-one, and it still hadn’t gone away. That, combined with the memory gaps, bleeding horns, and the alcoholic president, weighed on him more heavily than he’d admit. Sleep was a rare luxury, not a necessity. Fundy took every opportunity he had to glare menacingly at him, and even the recently-released Niki kept her distance. It hurt, to be so isolated from these people he’d fought beside for months, but there was no time for moping. There was barely even time for breathing.

“Tubbo! Get me a coffee!”

“Yes, Mr. Schlatt!”

As he sped down the hall, clipboard and a stack of papers in hand, Quackity called him from outside. He set the papers down on the hallway table and stuck his head out the door.

“What?!”

Big Q motioned towards the square, where a large hole sat in the centre of the seating.

“A creeper blew up the square, can you fix it?”

“Yeah, just-” “TUBBO! COFFEE!”

The teen bit his lip and gestured awkwardly over his shoulder.

“I gotta go-”

Without waiting for a response, he dashed back to the small break area where the coffee maker was kept. He set it going before rushing to collect the stack of forms left on the table. While the coffee brewed, he read through as many as he could. This was the usual routine - multitasking, never taking more than a second’s break, trying to stay on Schlatt’s good side - and he’d gotten used to it. As Tubbo grabbed a stack of cobble from his chest, a message buzzed through his communicator. Cobble in one hand, communicator in the other, he typed a reply in snatches, mostly looking forward as he hurried towards the creeper hole.

TommyInnit whispered to you: Tubso

You whispered to TommyInnit: What?

TommyInnit whispered to you: I need you

He sighed angrily.

You whispered to TommyInnit: tf do you want???? m busy!!!!!

TommyInnit whispered to you: is schlatt being a dick again? We need more info on the festical

You whispered to TommyInnit: well im actually doing stuf unlike some ppl!!!!! TommyInnit whispered to you: ???? u good?

You whispered to TommyInnit: lok i dont have the time!! get yor own fuckin informton!

Another message pinged through but Tubbo ignored it, shoving the little black box back in his pocket and continuing with his tasks. The next thing he knew, it was the middle of the night, moonlight streaming through the window of his room. A slight jolt of nausea accompanied the sudden change in his surroundings, but the teen shrugged it off. It was routine, after all. It was a struggle to pull his pyjama top over his head, as his horns grew bigger every day. Surely they’ll stop growing at some point. The sharp points protruded about a centimetre past his chin, and were a lot thicker than before. Succumbing to his exhaustion, Tubbo let out an ear-shattering yawn and fell into bed, digging his nails into the itchy skin around the base of the horns. A jolt of pain made him yelp, and something warm trickled down his hand.

Blood.

Note to self: Invest in bandages for these things!

[ma-lark-ey]

Hi!! I've seen other people make posts about why they love TAZ,,and I figured I should add my two cents. I also just wanted to share this experience somewhere. (Spoilers for Balance and Amnesty!!)

For a bit of background; in December/early January, I got dropped by some of my closest friends. I'd already been doing bad mentally for the last few months, and that sent me into a complete spiral.

I was quarantined, couldn't see my friends, couldn't leave the house, couldn't make any attempt at things that used to make me happy. I was (quite frankly) at my lowest point. I'd heard rumors of the Adventure Zone for years, and even seen content of it on my socials.

In mid May, I said fuck it and listened to episode one. MBMBAM (as good as it is) wasn't my cup of tea in podcasts, I needed something with plot. I knew the McElroys were a genre of entertainment I could get behind, but I needed plot to get invested.

TAZ Episode 3 was when I really became hooked. Magnus latched onto my heart, and Griffin's voice brought me a comfort I'd long forgotten.

Its important to note at this point in my life, I hadn't picked up a pencil to write or draw in almost six months.

I was honestly inspired to watch after a cosplayer I really admire began to cosplay Lup! I loved the personality I saw in her videos and photos of Lup, and I wanted to know more about her.

I listened to Here There Be Gerblins, and it made me smile. I listened to RockPort Limited, and I remember cleaning up my dresser and folding clothes when I found out Jenkins was the killer. I listened to Petals to the Metal, and I remember standing in my living room laughing during the whole Trent scene. I listened to Crystal Kingdom, I remembered standing in my yard in shock when Mangus sliced Merle's arm. I listened to Eleventh Hour, I remembered sitting in my chair and crying during the flashback and throwing my stuffed animal in rage at the Taako flashbacks. I remembered listening the Lunar Interlude where Lup carved her name in the wall and screaming joy at the introduction of the character who inspired to check this amazing show out. I remember playing Minecraft while listening to the Stolen Century (I was building a Ravenloft in my world!)

My favorite memory from listening to it though, was the scene Lup finally entered. I'd been listening to this podcast nonstop since I started. I remember listening to that scene and just *crying,* i remember clutching at my heart when her death was described because I'd fallen absolutely in love with her during Stolen Century.

I remember listening to Magnus' death scene while sitting at my kitchen table. My mom asked me why I was crying. "MAGNUS GOT HIS DOG!" Was all I could compute, she had no idea what I meant.

After i finished Balance, I started drawing again. It was simple, at first. Just a headshot of Lup with my favorite quote from her. But it was a start! I picked up my materials for the first time in months.

Then I started Amnesty. In minutes I was absolutely smitten. It was like Aubrey personally grabbed my hand and told me I was gonna be better soon. I latched onto Aubrey just like I did Magnus (Travis has always been my personal favorite brother.) I remember feeling guilty for skipping the last half of Commitment, but given my religion trauma that I was still processing at the time, I knew I needed to just role right along into Amnesty for my own sake.

My fondest memory of Amnesty was sitting in the car during a road trip and scribbling down things on my sketchbook.

Another prominent one was when Ned revealed to Aubrey he was the burglar. I fell to my knees when he said the sentence, and no I'm not being dramatic. I was cleaning up my room, and i collapsed onto the floor and laid in a fetal during the whole scene, ugly crying. I love all of the Amnesty characters, its my personal favorite campaign, and Ned and Aubrey meant everything to me. That scene *destroyed* me. I also remembered crying on my road trip when Ned was killed. I'd never felt so much emotion from a piece of media before.

After that I actually digested all of Balance. And the one character who's stuck out to me is Taako. And I know he's a cliche character to latch onto. But, its not his personality or his appearance or whatever that makes me love him. It was his back story. When I found Balance, I was working throufh the betrayal and loss of my fourth set of friends. I'm the kind of person who takes in people I know are toxic in hopes of helping them. And Taako was the perfect mix of myself, and the people I found myself befriending.

His history with Sazed hit close to home, in the betrayal aspect. And his betrayal by Lucretia. I understood his heart felt in those moments, and I latched onto him. I thought, "You understand how I feel right now." And I've *never* drawn so much in my life.

In just three days I made two whole pages of sketches, in just the last three weeks I've done ten pages of my brand new sketchvook (averaging it to 4-5 full drawings a page). I hadn't picked up a pen in months, and now I couldn't Put one down.

There was one night a couple days ago where I just sat in bed, grinning and crying while I looked at all the art I had accomplished, the countless pieces of writing I'd presented to my friends proudly. I rejoined roleplay groups, which I had also dropped after my mental health dropped. I came out to my IRLs as nonbinary!

The characters the McElroys created have given me this... This inspiration I've never felt before. I've hyperfixated on things before (like Undertale! That was my biggest.) But, no piece of media has ever made me feel like a character reached out of my screen and grabbed onto me.

I remember Istus telling the Gang the iconic line of "You're going to be amazing" and to me, it felt like Taako and Magnus just reached out of my phone and gave me a bear hug. Hell, just a few days I translated that feeling into a sketch.

I just bought the graphic novels, and have orders merchandize. I've *never* gotten into something, and had merchandize for it three weeks later. I've never loved something so much I sent my friends literally novellas of just me recounting my favorite scenes to them.

The Adventure Zone has literally brought the most joy into my life I could ever ask for out of media, its helped me in so many ways.

These stupid little DnD campaigns mean the absolute world to me, and I could never be happier that I found them when I did.

So, if you've read this far, there's one last thing I wanna say; even if you feel like you're at literal rock bottom, like you could end it all tomorrow and no one would care. That not even your greatest passionate with bring you joy, youll find something or someone that will pull you out of that point so fast it makes your head spin. In the emphamis words of "Zeke Owens" (Griffin) "One day, youre gonna laugh at a joke. You'll go swimming, and you'll smile in the sunlight. You're gonna pet yourself a good dog and its gonna feel amazing."

[obscureoperations]

Phew

Im so sorry I just had bad brain day so now maybe I can give some autistic Martin headcanons?

It's just that the moment I saw him first i was like "yuh, thats me, that guy is autistic" and i realised i could project onto him xd

Also these aren't really fleshed out yet just sketches xd

So

Do you remember how many trinkets he has in his room? The red toy thing, and that plush (I think?) doggie... This boy is a sucker for fidget toys and textures, I think for mostly soft ones

He also doesn't like various textures of food, like with the stuffed cabbage (might just be flavor but trust me i know that everything about it is NASTY, the way it touches and grinds on my teeth makes me wanna throw up)

Also the way he ate that bread (btw what was on that bread? hungarian brain said cottage cheese but eugh that's only good when it's sweet xd). Cuda even points out how he eats. That can also be some kind of routine? Idk how to say it, or a trait (there are many people who only eat foods in a certain way)

And I don't think I'll have to mention how he is w other people... His shyness dude... Precious boy... Murder boy but precious...

But yeah that can also be a trait bc come on xd

I havent thought about other things yet, mostly bc im still discovering myself and bc it's a big ass spectrum

But maybe some more might come to my mind later! And share them if it's okay

You’re right about most of these honestly... I’ve never grouped all of these traits together. Sweet boy... I’ love him. You’re definitely right about the spinner toys.

Oh the breakfast scene...lmao. I was also trying to figure out what he was spreading on that bread. My initial thought was a fuck ton of butter (gross)  That sorta explained Cuda’s disgust. But It sorta looked like mashed potato... or cottage cheese like you said.  The way he bit into it was adorable imo.

His shyness is so emphasized in the film, more so than it ever was it the book.  I love it! Book Martin is just plain feral and unpredictable...but he still holds a certain charm I guess lmao

Id love to hear more of these whenever you get the chance!

[royalcordelia]

The Secret of Distance (1/?)

Summary: Anne and Gilbert embark on their journeys, but stay close to each other at heart. Courting across 1000 miles isn't easy, but they're more than willing to step up to the task. (A post s3 story).

Notes: I know starting another mc is not a healthy life choice, but I needed to write this story and I wanted it to have a bunch of chapters, so here it is! Enjoy!

~~*~~ 

There wasn’t much Anne could do except lay back on her unfamiliar bed at create constellations from the cracks in the ceiling. Her heart was so full in her chest that it weighed her down against her mattress, and she reveled in the feeling. Could a person die from so much happiness? Her mother’s book on the language of flowers laid against her breast right above her heart, and she swore its lingering traces of motherly love seeped into her skin like stale perfume in an empty bottle. 

 Diana’s quiet footsteps land in the doorway, but her beloved kindred spirit merely allowed Anne to exist in the quiet of the room. Anne’s happiness bled out of her like sun rays, and it was all Diana can do to keep looking at her.

Then, with the unexpected haste of a well cranked jack-in-the-box, Anne sat up in bed and gave Diana a stunned look.

“I want to hear the whole story,” Anne murmured, half-rushed, half dazed. “Whatever did you say to him?” 

Diana stepped into the room, admiring the cleanness of her bed across from Anne’s. She settled at the side of her best friend’s mattress and crinkled her eyebrows sheepishly.

“I might’ve read him the riot act after he told my father he wasn’t engaged,” Diana began. The guilt in her voice drained away and she grabbed Anne’s hand. “Dearest, he never received your letter. You should’ve seen his face when I told him there was one.” 

Anne’s jaw dropped. She stammered for words, “I...But I left it...How do you even miss a letter like that in broad daylight?” She blanched. Regret dripped into each of her words as she said, “Oh, I know exactly how. For instance, if a person where to, say,  tear up the letter before reading it and then throw it out her gable window…” Anne groaned. “What did it say!?” 

Diana, piecing together the rambles, grabbed Anne’s pen from her side table and handed it to her. 

“You can just ask him, you know.” 

Anne held the pen in her hand as if it were made of solid gold and jeweled with ancient crystals. For some reason the sight of it makes her remember him at her doorstep, chest heaving from running. His eyes had been filled with such overflowing devotion that Anne thought she’d drown the closer she grew to him, but there was no where else she wanted to be. The overwhelming feeling begins to fill her chest once more and she takes a deep breath.

“Are you scared of what he’ll say?” Diana questioned quietly. Shaking her head, Anne bit her lips and tried to remember the exact feeling of when Gilbert had kissed her.

“No, something tells me that anything he has to say will be such wonderful poetry.”

“Gilbert isn’t very poetic.” 

“On the contrary, dearest Diana, there is always something inherently poetic when a man reveals to you the contents of his heart.” 

Diana grabbed one of Anne’s pillows and stuffed it against her chest. For a moment, Anne wondered if it was insensitive, talking of love when Diana had ended her own romance with Jerry so abruptly. But then Diana smirked and plopped down unceremoniously on the bed.

“I see how it is! You kiss a boy once and suddenly you’re an expert?” she teased. A thrill went down Anne’s spine and she smothered a squeal with both hands over her face. 

“Three times, Diana! We kissed three times! ” she shrieked, so lovesick that Diana couldn’t help but laugh. She couldn’t wait until they told Cole, and Aunt Jo, and-

“You kissed whom three times, Anne?!” 

Anne and Diana’s laughter ended abruptly on their lips when Josie Pye came into the room. She was followed by the other three girls, who waited on baited breath for Anne’s answer. Biting back a chuckle, Anne did her best to keep her face neutral. They all looked so silly! Ruby’s eyes were wider than Anne knew they could be, and Tilly was pressing her lips together to physically lock back all of her questions. 

Anne and Diana righted themselves on the bed, backs straight like the proper ladies they were. She spoke in the most neutral tone she could muster -  which was not very impressive, considering how happy she was to be confessing that she had kissed - “Gilbert.”

Their jaws dropped to the floor with a silent BANG, and Anne wondered if maybe one of them still liked Gilbert, after all. Her doubt only lasted a second, and suddenly the room  erupted in shouts of triumph and delight and confusion. They threw questions at her, all of which Anne tried to answer as best she could.

“Gilbert Blythe!? Anne, you never said you liked him! When did you start-” 

“Earlier this year! Maybe always? Definitely always.” 

“Is he good at kissing?” 

“I don’t have much experience to base it off of, but it was incredibly perfect” 

“I thought he was engaged to-”

“I thought so too, but apparently he ended things with her to pursue his ‘unrequited love.’” 

“Unrequited love?” Diana cut in. “He really thought you didn’t return his feelings?” 

Anne shrugged.

“There were a lot of misunderstandings, I think. I still don’t know for sure how it all transpired.” 

There was a pause before Jane crossed her arms.

“Well, where is he?” 

A twinge of disappointment hit the back of Anne’s heart. This day had been so beautiful in ways that even she could not have imagined, but the entire summer could have been that way if she hadn’t been so…so foolish ! All they’d gotten was a few moments before he was swept away to Toronto. Her little twinge of disappointment was overshadowed by how proud she was, and how much she loved him, but it was present enough that her eyes fell to the floor. 

“He’s attending University of Toronto. Miss Stacey contacted a friend of hers, I think. He said it was imperative he arrive today. It’s quite a long train ride, so that’s where he is right now.” 

Anne couldn’t help but smile. How sweet he looked from the back of the carriage. She had half a mind that he would’ve given up college right then and there if she asked him to stay. As wonderful as it would have been to spend the afternoon in his arms, kissing and clearing up all the confusions, his future came first. Now that she was part of it, she didn’t feel so afraid to let him go off into that bright, expansive world.

“So I guess that means you’re courting him now,” Ruby said excitedly. 

Anne looked down at the pen in her hand, then at her group of friends. Was she? Anne wanted to court him, even if it was for a long time. Not to mention, he’d broken off his courtship for her. Anne’s stomach fell to the floor when a rush of affection overtook her. Gilbert Blythe had turned down a girl who was everything Anne had once wanted to be, and the Sorbonne, so that he could try again with her. 

“I...I suppose I am courting him, in a long distance sort of way,” Anne concluded carefully. “I’m adding that to my list of follow up questions. I want to know for sure.”

“We’re happy for you, Anne,” Diana said, placing her head on Anne’s shoulder. Resting her cheek on Diana’s new updo, Anne heaved a sigh of relief. What a gift days like today were, where Providence proved he had not left her behind. Wrapping her fingers around Diana’s, Anne brought their hands up to her lips. 

“Shocked, but happy,” Josie supplied in a Pye-ish voice. “But can we eat now? I came up to tell you lunch is ready?” 

The girls began to file down the hallway, their footsteps echoing against the tall walls of the house as they clambered down the stairs. Diana stood in the doorway once more, watching as Anne pressed a kiss to the pen in her hand and placed it on her bedside table. There’d be time for writing letters later. For now, Anne had her own future to step into once and for all.

~~*~~

During the moonlit peace of the evening was Anne’s favorite time to put her heart to paper. As she sat down at her new desk, she wondered if pen and paper had ever been put to better use.

Dear Gilbert, 

I look like my mother. I look so much like her, in fact, that for a brief moment I thought I was looking down at my own reflection. But the glorious name “Bertha” was scribed atop the portrait, and an equally lovely name was signed across the bottom, “Walter.” How those names fill me with such warmth to say on my lips. 

I do believe I’m leaving out an integral part of this story. Matthew and Marilla visited today. They had gone to see a woman I lived with as a child and brought with them a book on the language of flowers. (Expect some pressed blossoms in your near future, I have much I’d like to say to you!) The darling book had once belonged to my parents, and it was there my father sketched a portrait of my mother. 

I will be forever astonished at how a girl like me, who had such meager beginnings,  could come upon such a wonderful family! Not only Marilla and Matthew, but the kindred spirits I’ve collected along the way. (Of course, your name is written on that list and underlined twice.) Today has taught me an eternal appreciation for love, and I find myself overwhelmed by the intensity of it. I wonder if you know the feeling. 

As you’ll recall, I have several follow-up questions, but in exchange for your honest answers, I feel it’s only fair to offer you some explanations of my own. It’s just that I’m unsure where to begin. What do you already know? Hmm…The beginning is as good a place to start as any. 

Gilbert, you must understand that love is such a young concept to me. I have only been on the receiving side of love since shortly after arriving at Green Gables, before which, I’d never even observed it with my own eyes. I’ve had being loved by family mastered for quite some time, thanks to Marilla and Matthew, but allowing you to come into my heart was so much different.  Trying to translate what I’d read in books and compare it with what I truly felt was much harder than I anticipated. 

Oh, it wasn’t the loving part that was hard. Loving you is as easy and breathtaking as stargazing from my new window. But realizing it, letting it happen, allowing myself to believe that a person like you could care for me...that was where the difficulties arose. It wasn’t until everything was still and I was content that you hit me like a roll of thunder. I sat up in my bed and exclaimed, “I’m in love with Gilbert Blythe!” Gave Diana quite the scare. 

 I’m sorry it took so long for me to come to my senses. Part of me wonders what would have happened if I’d realized sooner. Nevertheless, I’m exceedingly grateful that you appeared at my doorstep today, as magnificent as ever, to take one last chance. 

You’re likely curious about the note I wrote you. To be honest, I cannot explain to you why you never received it. I left it right underneath the water jug on your kitchen table. I wonder where it is now. Thankfully, the contents of the letter were quite short and, in more ways than one, sweet. I’ve inserted a new copy inside this letter so that you can have what you were originally meant to have. 

There are more questions I have, but I think I’d rather hear what’s on your mind first. (Not that I can mail this until you write to me first with your return address.) There is one thing I will ask because, though I’m 99% certain I know the answer, I’d like to be entirely certain: are we courting? If you’re waiting to hear what I think on the matter first, I’d like to court you, even if it’s a four year process. Or longer. Truly, Gilbert, all I want is you. 

Oh - and how much does train fare cost from PEI to Toronto? I’d like to start saving as soon as possible to come see you. 

Alright, my love, I think I have sufficiently taken up an adequate amount of your time. Please know that I’m thinking of you during your first days of college, and I already miss you beyond words. 

Yours always, 

Anne 

(PS: Where in the world did you learn to kiss like that? No - don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.) 

[stahlop]

Making a Memory (1/?)

Well here it is! My submission for the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer. This idea has been in my head since last summer, but I didn't have the motivation to tackle it until this year. All I knew is that I wanted some form of The Parent Trap but I didn't like the idea of Emma and Killian being divorced, and then this is what it became.

Just a warning, there is nothing supernatural for the first few chapters.

Thank you so much to @profdanglaisstuff and @thisonesatellite for being my betas and for helping me come up with ideas for this since last summer. And to @mariakov81 for also helping with ideas and for the lovely artwork you gifted me for my birthday inspired by this story.

Thank you @gingerchangeling for the amazing artwork you made for this fic! I love it so much

Summary: Hope Swan and Alice Jones meet at summer camp and immediately realize two things: they look exactly alike and they don’t like each other. But the more they delve into things the more they realize this is not just another case of The Parent Trap, and that there may be more at stake (and more danger) than they thought.

Rated T (although it could change later on)

Read on Ao3

For as long as she could remember, Hope Swan had wanted to go to sleepaway camp. Oh sure, she’d been going to regular day camps every summer since she was five, but she wanted some time away from her mom. She’d begged her every year, but Emma Swan told her every year that they couldn’t afford it (bail bonds kept them comfortable, but didn’t leave a lot for extras). And every year Hope was disappointed. But this year, the year she was 13 (14 in three months), all that changed.

Hope’s older brother, Henry, had published his first novel a year ago at the age of 28 (yes, there was a 15 year age gap between them; that’s what happens when your mom first gets pregnant at 17, she waits a while before having another kid) and now had a sequel coming out, and had offered to pay for Hope to go to camp. Six weeks away from her mom. Not that Hope didn’t love her mom, but she was getting overbearing now that she was officially a teenager. It was as if she didn’t trust her at all. Hope had asked Henry if she was the same way when he turned 13, but he just gave a shrug and left it at that. Hope figured that being 45 with a 13-year-old and being 30 with a 13-year-old were completely different. And now she was here and having a great time and making new friends (Jen and Bianca), when she discovered the Jones girl.

She hadn’t noticed her on the first day. There were two 13-year-old girl cabins and Alice Jones happened to be in the other one. But on the second day, two girls from the other cabin said hi to her and called her Alice. She’d never seen these girls, since they weren’t in her cabin, but she figured it was the second day and all, and they must have mistaken her for another blonde-haired camper. But then more girls from the other cabin started calling her Alice and one of them tried to get her to go back to the other cabin with her. It was finally at lunch on that second day that she glanced over at the other cabin’s table and noticed a girl that looked exactly like her, except instead of her shoulder-length curls, this girl had much longer curls with purple streaks in them.

Jen noticed her looking. “The nerve of her! Coming here with your face!” She said angrily.

“Well, at least I understand why people thought I was someone else now.” Hope said. Of all the places to meet her doppleganger, she never would have thought it would have been at sleepaway camp. “It’s not a big deal, people will realize we’re two separate people eventually.” She said as she watched the Alice girl laughing with girls from her own cabin.

Except they didn’t. Everyday someone called her Alice and it was irritating Hope. Yes, they looked alike, but otherwise they were very different. Alice was a lot more punk rock, what with the streaks in her hair, the fact that she wore nothing but vintage band t-shirts and frayed cutoff shorts with Converse shoes. Hope mainly wore tank tops (sometimes with an open flannel shirt over it) with Bermuda shorts and sandals. She also wore her hair up in a simple ponytail, a perfect clone of her mother. Except for her blue eyes. Her mother seemed to have no idea where those came from seeing as she had green and her father had brown, or so she’d been told. She was too young to remember him when he died. Must have had two recessive blue eyes finally meet up her mother used to joke. Hope hadn’t got close enough to Alice to look at her eyes, but she wouldn’t be surprised if she had blue eyes too.

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

Alice Jones was a bit of an odd duck. At least, that’s what she’d been told. Her Papa joked she had “a touch of the sight”. Alice didn’t think she was that peculiar. She likened herself to Luna Lovegood from the Harry Potter series (minus the radish earrings). She just got gut feelings about people. But running into a girl who looked almost identical to herself at a summer camp was nothing she could have ever predicted. It was unnerving to see someone who looked so similar to herself but wasn’t her. It was like looking into a mirror to see a super serious version of herself. She didn’t like it one bit. And Alice liked everything. Nothing rattled her. She didn’t know why this girl did.

It wasn’t as if this girl -- Hope, she’d learned her name was Hope -- had done anything to her either. Her mere presence just left her feeling unsettled. That touch of sight her father joked that she had been sending off warning bells in her gut that something wasn’t right. But what could she do to avoid her?  Alice thought that would be easy considering the size of the camp, she just didn’t bank on Hope having many of the same interests that she did. That first day, after all the rules had been told to them, they got to try out different specials (activities) and Hope seemed to be at most of the ones Alice had also gone to, and the feeling in her gut grew worse and worse. Like they weren’t supposed to be around each other.

“Everyone deserves a chance no matter what is in their past, Starfish.” Her Papa would say to her. It had just been her and her Papa for as long as Alice could remember. She usually had trouble making friends, being slightly odd as many girls she’d tried to befriend had told her, but she loved making new friends when the opportunity arose, and if people didn’t mind her idiosyncrasies. She’d always loved playing make-believe. She would often pretend she was Alice from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and have tea parties with her Papa and stuffed animals (Papa was always a pirate in her make-believe world though). As she got older she started sketching landscapes and the occasional self-portrait and had won several art prizes at her school and local contests. That was why she was confused about the feelings she was having concerning Hope. She should be forging a friendship with this girl, getting to know her, not feeling like she should stay as far away from her as possible. How many people got to meet someone who looked exactly like them?

“Hey, Alice, it’s time for lunch!” Viola yelled, startling Alice out of her thoughts. Alice usually loved mealtimes, she loved food, grilled cheese and onion rings being her favorite, but that was when she knew she’d see Hope and her stomach would practically rebel at a mere glance at her. She’d been so excited to finally get to go to sleepaway camp (something she’d been begging her Papa about for years). It just hadn’t been feasible on a dock manager’s salary, but this year they’d started a scholarship program and Alice had applied and received it, so here she was. Too bad her camp experience was being ruined by her weird sixth sense.

“Thanks!” Alice said getting up from her bunk and slipping on her worn, pink Converse.

Alice wondered if she would have the urge to avoid Hope the entire summer. That would definitely dampen the camp experience.

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

The change from avoidance to rivalry started over fencing of all things. Alice hadn’t known it was Hope that the director had pitted her against, as they were both wearing the required fencing masks and gear and it was impossible to tell who her opponent was. Alice had only recently started taking fencing lessons, something her Papa had wanted her to do, but she’d never been much for physical education or sports. She would have preferred archery or horseback riding (things she was happy she was getting to experience here at camp), but those were a bit expensive. The local YMCA offered fencing lessons for a low fee.

Her opponent was much better than she was. Alice had more of a hack at the other person with her sword approach rather than the correct stance. The other girl had much better form than she did and Alice could hear the frustrated sounds coming from her whenever Alice used two hands on her sword or kicked her opponent away (which Alice knew wasn’t legal, but this wasn’t a tournament and they were padded for goddess sake). At one point, Alice’s sword had been knocked out of her hands and she just lunged at the other girl. Alice knew she wasn’t playing by the rules, but she wanted to win and the fencing specialist hadn’t blown their whistle at her, so she kept on doing what she was doing.

Eventually, Alice ended up on her back with her opponent above her after she had tried to kick her again and her opponent had grabbed her foot instead, making Alice fall to the ground. They had definitely thrown the rules out the window, especially with her adversary completely disregarding the little footwork Alice had learned and doing swishy twists and turns. Bad form as her Papa would say. So, if she wasn’t going to play by the rules, then she wouldn’t either. Alice quickly kicked her knee upward, essentially kicking her opponent in the groin (even though she knew it wouldn’t hurt nearly as badly for a girl as it would a boy), but it was enough to push her back off of her. The distraction was enough that Alice managed to get herself back on her feet and jab the tip of her sword at the other girl’s chest. The whistle finally blew and the specialist came over asking the girls to take off their fencing masks so she could declare the winner and make sure they shook hands like good sports.

To say that both Alice and Hope were in shock when they realized they’d been fencing each other was an understatement.

“That was bad form, all that kicking you were doing.” Hope sneered at Alice.

“Me?” Alice practically screeched. “What was with all the twists and turns? Give you a leather duster and you could have been a pirate.”

“Girls,” the specialist said, trying to regain some control over the situation, “can you please just shake hands?” But both girls refused. Hope shucked off the rest of the fencing gear, threw her sword onto the ground, and huffed off while Alice actually attempted to pull her hand out of her glove for a handshake. The specialist gave a shrug to Alice and picked up the gear Hope had thrown on the ground before announcing that formal fencing lessons would be every Tuesday and Thursday during Specials time. Alice slowly took off her gear and put it in the designated bins. As much as she would enjoy fencing over the summer, running into Hope was not something she was looking forward to, so she decided to try something else to avoid her.

But it wasn’t as easy as it sounded.

Archery had been the next special Alice wanted to try. And there was Hope, already there with her arrow nocked in her bow and an arrow practically in the bullseye. After a few tries of her own (and almost hitting Hope --accidentally-- twice), Alice realized that maybe watching archery was more fun than actually trying to shoot a bow and arrow. Especially, because Hope thought she was trying to hit her on purpose.

“It was an accident.” Alice gritted through her teeth.

“Sure it was.” Hope huffed, swishing her ponytail behind her and storming off with two of her friends in tow.

“God, why is she such a bitch?” Alice’s friend, Lori, asked. “Anyone can see you’re just not that coordinated.” Lori joked. “Maybe you should just stick with art.”

“Yeah.” Said Alice sheepishly. She put the archery equipment away and headed for the art shack.

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

Two days! It had been two days and Alice was already a thorn in her side!

“She’s like your stalker. She’s always showing up where you are.” Bianca huffed, sitting down on one of the benches in the ramada. Hope had needed to be away from the prying ears of her cabin.

“Yeah! Who does she think she is? It’s like she’s trying to be you.” Jen added in angrily, having just arrived from a trip to the Snack Shack. Even though they’d only been camp friends for the past four days, Hope, Bianca, and Jen had quickly bonded the way only 13-year-olds that had to live together could. She handed out packs of candy that she had got for them, gummy worms for herself and Bianca, and a pack of black licorice for Hope.

It was true that it seemed like wherever Hope was, Alice inevitably ended up there too. “There’s really only so many places one can go here, girls. I mean, we only have so many choices.” Hope said, opening her bag of licorice and taking a bite. She still hesitated to be around Alice, but it’s not like they could go anywhere outside of the boundary of the campgrounds. “I appreciate the sentiment though.” Hope said happy for the support. “I know it’s not rational, to dislike someone just because they look almost identical to me.” Her blue eyes looked to the ground.

“Hey, no matter what, we’ve got your back.” Bianca reminded her.

“And speaking of having your back,” Jen said, pulling out a piece of paper from her back pocket, “look at this.” She unfolded the paper and smoothed it down in front of them. It was an announcement for a dance.

“They’ve invited the boys camp from across the lake!” Jen said excitedly. The flyer announced that the dance would be in one week. “I can’t wait! I’ve never been to a dance.” She pressed the flyer to her lips and kissed it.

“Want to get a first kiss?” Bianca asked teasingly.

“What, like you’ve been kissed?” Jen responded back not so teasingly.

“I’ve been kissed.” Hope spoke up to diffuse the situation. She was older than most of her cabinmates, her birthday being in September, only three months away, so she did have a little bit more experience than some of them. Both girls’ eyes lit up.

“What was it like?” Jen asked.

“I bet it was super romantic.” Bianca said dreamily.

Hope, laughed and then cringed. “Um, my best guy friend and I tried kissing a few weeks before school got out. We’ve been friends since fourth grade.” She blushed at the embarrassment of the memory, Bianca and Jen hanging on her every word. “It was tech week for our school play, Peter Pan. I was Peter. That’s how I know how to sword fight.” Bianca and Jen both gave Hope an exasperated look as she started going off topic. “ Sorry. Anyway, he was on backstage crew and we were outside waiting for our parents to come pick us up. I saw my mom’s car and as I went to give him a hug like I usually did, because that’s just how we are, and he kissed me.”

Both Bianca and Jen’s eyes looked like they were going to bug out of their heads and they both had the widest grins on their faces.

“So, how was it?” Jen asked, breaking the awkward silence of them both staring at Hope.

“Wet.” The girls laughed. “And weird. We didn’t know what we were doing. And he had braces. And, I think I can wait before getting kissed again.” The girls all dissolved into giggles. “I was really glad I was going to camp for the summer so I wouldn’t have to see him everyday. We both agreed to just stay friends.” Hope had not told her mother, even though she was bursting to. Hope knew that her mother had had bad luck with men, her father on the top of that list, and she really didn’t know how her mother would react to her having been kissed. She had confessed to Henry though. He told her he was the same age when he’d had his first kiss as well, which made her feel better about the whole thing.

“That’s still so exciting!” Bianca said breathlessly and finished up the last of her gummy worms. “I don’t know how you can eat black licorice.” She made a face to show what she really thought of it.

“I don’t like sweet stuff.” Hope scoffed and took a large bite of licorice.

“Whatever.” Jen said, grabbing her trash and throwing it away. “Let’s get back to the cabin so we can figure out what we’re going to wear to this dance.”

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

“Did you hear about the dance?” Viola practically screamed as she rushed into the cabin. Alice looked up from where she’d been sketching the view from her window, not the greatest view, but Alice was trying to make her grass look more realistic and less like pencil strokes on the page.

“A dance?” Lori asked almost falling off her bunk to look at the flyer Viola had in her hands. They looked over the flyer as several other girls in the cabin also flocked over to them to peruse the flyer; all of them talking excitedly about finally getting to dress up a bit and getting to see members of the opposite sex after two weeks. This inevitably brought up the girl’s experiences with boys (not that they seemed to have a lot), a conversation that Alice felt uncomfortable with. Alice didn’t have much interest in boys yet (something she was sure her Papa was happy about). She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about them in general, let alone to do things with. She had her Papa and that’s really all she needed. That and her art. Just leave her in a beautiful location for a few hours with a sketch pad and some drawing utensils and she was happy.

“What about you, Alice?” Lori, a bushy haired girl asked after regaling the girls in the cabin with a tale of how the first guy she had kissed had also tried to cop a feel and had only discovered the tissues she’d stuffed into her bra.

“Oh, me?” Alice asked. “No kissing for me. I’m not really good with boys.” Once again, Alice was feeling like an oddball.

“Don’t worry,” said Viola, coming to sit over near Alice and taking her hand, “not all of us are boy crazy.” Viola smiled sweetly at her. Alice’s stomach nearly did a somersault.

Oh!

“Thanks.” Alice said giving a shy smile back and keeping their hands clasped a little while longer before pulling it away to continue her drawing.

Alice decided she would just find a chair out on the patio and sketch during the dance, since (according the the flyer) the whole shebang was mandatory. She would have rather stayed in her cabin during the dance instead of watching her cabinmates flirt badly with the boys.

Unfortunately, the intention of finding a boy to dance with for the night that Hope had been banking on, and the quiet drawing in the corner that Alice had hoped for (and maybe talking to Viola a bit more), did not end up coming to fruition.

It had started out great. Hope, Bianca, and Jen were in their pack and had all been asked to dance by boys in their own group. Sterling had been the one to catch Hope’s eye. He seemed quiet and reserved, and upon speaking to him for a little bit, found that he was very much into science.

“I’ve never been that good with science myself,” Hope told him sweetly when he brought up some experiment he was doing with blue lights at his camp, “but I know crime novels use blue and black lights to find blood at crime scenes.” She said hoping that she hadn’t come off as creepy. Luckily, Sterling thought it was adorable. He smiled at her and she noticed he was not wearing braces, even better.

Meanwhile, Alice had attempted to cajole Viola to come hang with her outside while she drew a picture of the lake in the moonlight. She’d brought some of her charcoal so she was making quite a mess of herself, but she wasn’t planning on doing much dancing or interacting with anyone else. “I’ll come out here later when I need a drink, okay?” Viola had said, smiling at her again. The drinks and refreshments had been set up under the patio not too far from where Alice had situated herself. She just hoped that none of the directors would notice her out here and try to make her come inside.

Alice had probably been outside all of 30 minutes when her gut started telling her something was wrong. She looked up at the sky thinking maybe rain was coming, but it was a clear, cloudless night. She looked over to the refreshment table and saw Hope talking with a boy. That must have been what set it off. She didn’t need any trouble from Hope right now, so she went back to her drawing. But it wasn’t meant to be.

After a few minutes a male voice asked her. “What are you drawing?” Alice looked up to see the boy that Hope had just been talking to looking over her shoulder at the barely started drawing.

“Um,” Alice said nervously, “just drawing the lake in the moonlight.” She looked back at the landscape in front of her determined not to continue this conversation. The last thing she needed was for Hope to have another reason to not like her just because this boy wanted to talk to her too.

She continued to draw and glanced over at the refreshment table to see a few girls she didn’t recognize hanging out and talking, when he spoke again.

“Are you just going to ignore me all night? I thought we’d hit it off pretty well in there.” Alice closed her eyes and gave a nervous laugh. Of course he thought she was Hope. Her doppelganger must have either gone to the restroom or ditched him and now he was out here thinking she was the girl he’d been talking to all evening.

“I’m not Hope.” she said plainly, still not looking up from her drawing.

“Are you seriously trying to pretend you’re someone else right now?” He asked incredulously. Alice rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of this whole situation.

“I’m not Hope. We just look alike. Tell me, how did I all of a sudden get purple streaks in my hair and have charcoal on my hands if I was with you?” She huffed. The boy opened his mouth to say something when the girl in question came out the double doors and immediately stopped at the scene in front of her.

“What the hell is going on out here?” Hope asked, hands crossing over her chest like armor. She was glaring at Alice, like the boy talking to her was her fault.

“I…, I mean…” The boy looked very confused as he turned his head looking at both girls.

“Mistaken identity. He thought I was you.” Alice said finally putting her drawing notebook and charcoal down and getting up from the chair she’d been sitting in all night. Her explanation did not seem to pacify Hope at all.

“Seriously, Sterling?” Hope walked over, the niggling in Alice’s gut getting worse. “You couldn’t tell the difference between us?” Sterling, for his part, had turned bright red and seemed quite embarrassed about the mix-up. “And you!” Hope said, swinging her body toward Alice’s. “I’m sure you didn’t have any part of this at all. I saw you out here before when we were talking. Hanging on every word.”

Alice was very confused as to what was happening now. She’d been sitting outside drawing and minding her own business. She hadn’t encouraged the boy in any way and now Hope was accusing her of intentionally, what, pretending to be her in this whole thing?”

“Look, Hope, I didn’t…” But Alice never got to finish her sentence as she felt a stinging sensation overcome her whole face. Hope stood across from her staring at her own hand as if she couldn’t believe she’d just slapped Alice. Sterling snuck off as the gaggle of girls who’d been chatting at the refreshment table stopped to watch the scene that was unfolding.

Alice held her hand to her face, not believing that Hope had had the audacity to slap her. And at the same moment, rage at this whole situation finally reached its boiling point, and Alice slapped Hope back, leaving a charcoal handprint across Hope’s face. Alice immediately put both hands over her mouth, horrified at what she had done.

“I’m sorry.” Alice said quickly, trying to diffuse the whole situation, but Hope 's eyes were practically black from her seething anger and she grabbed Alice’s hair and yanked her to the ground.

Alice was vaguely aware that there were screams coming from the other participants of the dance. That someone had yelled for the director, Mrs. Hatfield and the director of the boys camp. That Lori and Viola and Hope’s two friends all came out to try and convince the girls to stop fighting. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion.

As Hope dragged Alice down to the ground, Alice grabbed Hope around the knees, pulling her down to the ground as well. Hope immediately tried to gain the upper hand by straddling Alice and trying to slap her again, but Alice managed to roll her over so she was on top. They both kept rolling each other over, trying to regain the upper hand when they hit the refreshment table. More screaming abounded as the table came crashing down. Alice managed to avoid the punch from drenching her (as she happened to be on top when it came down on Hope), but Hope managed to wrench her over right as the ranch dressing came down on her face.

“Girls! Girls!” Mrs. Hatfield screamed. The director of the boys camp finally managed to pull Hope off of Alice (who now also had bits of chips in her hair), and get the two girls separated.

Mrs. Hatfield had seen enough. “In all my years,” she said, trying to maintain some semblance of control in her voice, when all she wanted to do was rant and rave at these girls, “this has been the most revolting, the most disgusting display of hooliganism we have ever had.” Alice hung her head in shame. For once her gut had led her down the wrong path and she would have to pay the price. “And from sisters who should be leading by example…”

“We’re not sisters!” Hope exclaimed, appalled that she had been brought into this as an instigator. Mrs. Hatfield’s mouth dropped and she looked from Hope to Alice and then back to Hope again.

“But they are, aren’t they?” Mrs. Hatfield asked the two other directors who were assessing all the food and drink that were now on the floor.

“Uh, no.” said one director with curly, red hair  who looked between the two girls. “We have here, Alice Jones and Hope Swan. They just happen to look alike.”

Mrs. Hatfield looked at both of them again as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing, but then gave up on trying to figure out why they looked so much alike when they weren’t actually related.

“You two will clean up this mess and then tomorrow you will pack your bags to move into the Get Along Cabin up the hill.” She said firmly.

“But…” Hope started to protest. She couldn’t believe she’d gotten herself into this situation. The moment she had slapped Alice she knew she’d been in the wrong, but it was like she couldn’t stop herself. Mrs. Hatfield cut her off with a look that would stop the deadliest murderer from coming anywhere near her.

“You have two hours to make this back porch spotless and then tomorrow you will have until noon to pack up your stuff. Are we clear?” She barked at them. Hope and Alice nodded. Mrs. Hatfield walked past the two sullen girls, motioned for the rest of the campers to follow her, and left the two girls on the back porch. Hope and Alice looked at each other, neither one wanting to admit that they were somewhat at fault, and began to start cleaning up what they could. Alice realized, after they cleaned the entire back porch, that her drawing notebook and charcoal must have ended up in the lake during the scuffle.

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

Hope was determined to ignore Alice. Since they had been made to inhabit the Get Along Cabin, Hope had not said one word to her. Alice watched the first two days as Hope would get up in the morning with the camp radio station that blared into the cabin at 7AM, grab her things for a shower (their cabin boasted it’s own bathroom complete with shower, so they always had hot water and only had to share with each other, and not trek down the hill to the communal one), got ready after her shower, and headed down to the mess hall for breakfast. Alice liked to take her time in the mornings, especially since she and Hope had to also share the Get Along Table for all their meals. Luckily, they were able to join their own cabins for daily activities, but meals and free time were all spent together so they could learn to ‘get along’. Alice kept herself busy reading and rereading books she had brought with her, or drawing in another one of her notebooks. The bad gut feeling that Alice always had around Hope had calmed down immensely since they’d been made to cohabitate, and Alice, for the first time, wondered what her gut had been trying to tell her.

Hope, on the other hand, knew this whole thing was her fault but refused to admit it. She was being stubborn (like her mother). She had no idea what had compelled her to slap Alice when seeing the look on Sterling’s face told her that he had honestly mixed up the two girls. She just knew that she was so angry that a boy she kind of liked couldn’t tell the difference between them and it had really made her angry.  She felt that her whole camp experience had been ruined by this girl and no amount of ‘I’m sorry’s’ were going to make up for that. Even if she needed to be the one to apologize to Alice. So she continued to ignore her instead.

Hope had known Alice liked to draw, but she didn’t realize how much she drew and just how good she actually was. She’d been drawing the past two days any time they were in the cabin. After each picture was finished being drawn, she would carefully rip it out of the book and tape it up on the wall by her bed. Many of them seemed to be landscape drawings of a small town that boasted an old clock tower above, what Alice had mumbled, was a library. Other drawings were of people that Hope had originally assumed were in Alice’s life, but when she drew a picture of what looked like a huntress version of Snow White and Prince Charming, Hope assumed that they were either part of Alice’s imagination, or maybe video game or cartoon characters. Hope still refused to talk to Alice so she couldn’t ask her what they were all about.

On the third day of their isolation, it rained. Cold, windy rain that made the campgrounds into a giant mud pit, so everyone had to stay in their cabins after lunch. Which meant Hope and Alice were stuck with each other until either the rain stopped or dinnertime. Hope was bored out of her mind. Unlike Alice, she had not thought to bring cabin activities to do when stuck in a cabin. She figured being at camp all the entertainment was provided for you. She hadn’t counted on downtime due to a rainy day.

It was unbearably muggy in the cabin, even though the rain brought cooler temperatures, the humidity was still clinging making Hope feel hot and sticky even though she had goosebumps. She figured opening the window a touch wouldn’t be that bad, just enough to cool the room down, or at least give her a bit of a breeze in which to lower her body temperature.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t what happened. Hope attempted to partially open the window, but it was as if it had a mind of its own and sprang open all the way. One little tug and rain and wind came pouring into the room!

“Oh, crap!” Hope exclaimed as she tried to get the window back down. A gust of wind and a torrential downpour of rain came sweeping into the room.

“HELP!” Hope screamed as papers started getting blown around the room and her bedspread started to get soaked.

Alice had been listening to music through an old iPod (cell phones were not allowed at camp, and even if they were, the reception was probably terrible) with earbuds in her ears when she heard Hope screaming. She took a deep breath, wondering what had happened that made Hope actually want to speak to her. She looked over to see rain pouring in the window onto Hope’s bed, and her drawings being blown off the walls and getting absolutely soaked.

She immediately tore the earbuds out of her ears and ran over to help. It took both of them, but they eventually got the window down to just a crack, enough to help cool the room but not enough for the rain and wind to get in.

“Oh, no!” Hope said, looking at the mess that had befallen the room. She started picking up the drawings that had been blown off the walls. “I’m so sorry.”

Just a few days ago Alice’s gut would’ve made her believe that Hope had done this on purpose and she would have been seething with anger. But today, today her gut was telling her Hope was being completely sincere. And why hadn’t it been doing this before. Why had she thought Hope was this horrible person after barely meeting her and over a stupid boy? She was 13 for goddess sake, she should know better than that.

“It’s okay.” Alice said, trying to save some of the pieces. She’d try and hang them over the radiator and see if they could be salvaged.

“Did you draw all these?” Hope asked, picking up one of the least wet pieces of artwork. It was one that Alice had done based off a book she’d read. It was Red Riding Hood, but retold as if she were also the wolf. Alice had drawn her with her red cloak billowing around her with a wolfish grin upon her lips. It was a stunning picture.

“Yeah. They’re based on a book I read.” Alice said not wanting to give Hope more information then she’d asked for. Their relationship was tentative at this point and her drawings were a sore spot for her when they were made fun of.

“They’re really good.” Hope said, now looking at the picture of the Evil Queen from Snow White. She definitely did not look like the Disney version, with the high ponytail and low plunging dress with bustier. “What book?”

“Um, it’s a new series. The first book came out a year ago, the sequel should be out right when camp ends. It’s called Once Upon a Time.” Alice gathered the rest of her drawings up from Hope as she explained the book. When it had come out, Alice felt as if someone had reached straight into her dreams and put them on the page. She’d always loved a good alternative fairy tale, but she’d seen these characters in her mind for years. It was like the author had created these characters directly from her brain.

Hope gasped. “Once Upon a Time by Henry Mills?” She asked incredulously. Alice nodded and Hope broke out into a huge grin. “That’s my brother. He wrote it.” Alice almost dropped the pictures on the damp floor again.

“Your brother is Henry Mills, the author of the book I’m currently obsessed with?” Alice couldn’t believe it. She’d almost become mortal enemies with the sister of her most favorite author. Stupid gut feeling. “You must tell me everything you know about the sequel?” She asked, now overly excited.

“Uh, I actually haven’t read it.” Hope admitted. She wasn’t much for fairy tales. She preferred crime and mystery novels. Alice’s eyes almost bugged out of her head at her admission.

“Your brother wrote a book and you didn’t even read it?” Alice asked, appalled. She ran over to her bed and Hope thought she might be ignoring her again, but then she realized she was searching through her belongings.”Ah ha!” she exclaimed when she found what she was looking for. It was a copy of Henry’s book with a brown cover that was supposed to mimic leather with gold lettering.

“Isn’t your last name Swan?” Alice asked as she brought the book over to Hope.

“Pen name.” Hope said, shrugging. She opened the book to the table of contents. She knew it was a book of fairy tales, that much Henry had told her, but Hope preferred reality to fantasy. Something she definitely picked up from her mother. Give her a good crime drama any day over a sappy Disney movie. The first chapter was entitled Wanted: Snow White for Crimes Against the Queen: Murder, Treason, Treachery. Well that was definitely different from the Disney version. The second chapter was titled A Wolf in Red Clothing, the third simply Elf Tonic.

Hope turned the page to the first chapter to see a wanted poster illustrating the chapter title. It was a pencil drawing of Snow White on a wanted poster with her crimes listed below her face. The drawing looked slightly familiar to Hope. Something about the chin, she couldn’t put her finger on it. Henry probably had it around his apartment when he was in the development stages and she’d seen it there and forgotten. But it tickled at her brain.

“They don’t seem to be your typical fairy tale fare do they?” Hope said flipping through to see other pencil drawn illustrations throughout the book.

“They are so much better. No damsels in distress in need of rescuing by a big strong prince, lots of women power and what not. Characters popping in and out of other fairy tale’s stories, and earned True Love’s Kiss. Your brother has a very vivid imagination!” Alice said excitedly.

“What’s this?” Hope asked, flipping to the final picture in the book, a baby being put into what looked like a tree with the name Emma on her baby blanket.

“It’s the whole impetus for the next book! What happens to Emma in the Land Without Magic after her father saved her from the Evil Queen’s curse to make everyone unhappy forever. She’s supposed to be the Savior and bring back the happy endings!”  Hope ran her fingers over the picture, almost as if she were looking at a memory, rather than a fictional drawing.

“Our mother’s name is Emma.” Hope said pensively. “I didn’t realize Henry named a character after her. She’s amazing. Raised both of us without a dad. I guess he was in our lives for a little bit, considering the age difference between me and Henry, but he died when I was two, so it’s just been us and her for pretty much my whole life. She didn’t grow up with any family, so I guess it’s fitting...” Hope said wistfully, her heart suddenly so thankful that Henry decided to name a character in his book after their mother and make her the hero she always felt she was. “What about you, Alice? What’s your mother like?” Hope asked, wanting to take the spotlight off of her.

The smile that had been on Alice’s face vanished. She didn’t necessarily look sad, just void of emotion. “I don’t have a mother, just me and my Papa. My mother also died when I was two.” She took the book back from Hope, closed it, then sat to face Hope. “That’s weird, right? That both of us lost a parent when we were two?” Alice looked at Hope expectantly, waiting for something more from her, but she just looked down at the ground.

“There was a fire at our apartment. Papa got me out, Mama wasn’t so lucky. After that we moved out of Boston to the country. He still works in the city though, he just wanted something better for us and he didn’t want reminders of my mother all over the place. I don’t even have any pictures of her, something about them getting all burned up in the fire. I’m not sure why they didn’t have any in the Cloud or Google Photos or whatever. The only picture I’ve ever seen of my mother is a pencil sketch my Papa did when they first met.” Alice set her head back against Hope’s bed frame where they’d been sitting down on the floor. She glanced over at Hope who was looking over at her with wide eyes. “What?” Alice said, concerned.

“My father died in a fire too.” Hope barely whispered. “Mom got me and Henry out, but she couldn’t get back in for him. And the only pictures I’ve seen of him are from when he and my mom originally met, before he left her the first time. Somehow, all our pictures were lost in the fire, which, like you said, makes no sense seeing as we all have computers and smart phones and what not.” It was Alice who now had wide eyes when Hope looked over at her. “Don’t you think that’s weird?” Hope continued, “That we look alike and that we both lost a parent in a fire and that we have barely any pictures of the other parent. What’s your dad’s name?” Hope asked, all sense of pretense going out the window. She suddenly felt like they could be connected somehow. This overwhelming heaviness had invaded her body and she needed answers that could make it go away. There was no way they had this much in common without there being something connecting them.

“Killian Jones.” Alice answered immediately, because her gut was going crazy, practically pushing her to find these answers. “And your mother?”

“Emma Swan.” Hope replied. They sat in silence, not sure where to go from there. The answers hadn’t brought any huge revelation. Neither name meant anything to the other.

“When’s your birthday?” Alice asked. “Mine is September 27th.” If they had the same birthday that could still mean something. Maybe the reason for no photographs had been because of something else.

“September 28th.” Hope said. They both deflated a little. Until…

“What time were you born, Hope? I was born at 9:07 at night. I know because Papa always reminds me that it was the beginning of this huge lunar eclipse that also happened to fall on the Harvest Moon that year and it was called the Super Moon, so he used to call me his Super Harvest Baby.” Alice smiled at the memory. She looked over at Hope whose mouth was practically on the ground.

“I was born at 12:27, right when it ended. My mom also used to call me her Super Harvest Baby.” Hope paused as if she were thinking of the next thing to say. “This can’t be a coincidence. I...I,” She paused again, trying to get the right words out. “I think we might be twins, just born on either side of midnight.” Hope struggled to get the words out, her eyes now filling with tears at the prospect that she might not only have a sister she didn’t know about, but a twin sister at that.

The two girls stared at each other for a while, not sure what to do with the information that they both felt was the truth. Hope had felt the weight that had been pressing on her lift the moment she had suggested they were twins. Alice’s gut had stopped sending her warning signals too. They both felt this had to be true, they just couldn’t figure out how it could be true.

“Do you think we were separated somehow? Maybe our mother and father adopted us and we’re not biologically theirs?” Alice wondered aloud.

“No. I’m the spitting image of my mom, and so are you I suppose, just with blue eyes instead of green. And my dad had brown eyes, so I know they didn’t come from him.” Hope said, disputing Alice’s theory right off the bat.

“But my I have my dad’s blue eyes, which would also mean you do too.” Alice contemplated.

“Maybe they lied to us about the fire. It seems awfully convenient now that our other parent is dead and all the pictures of us with that parent disappeared.” Alice said grimly. She really didn’t like the thought of her Papa lying to her about something that important, but it seemed the only logical conclusion at the moment.

“Henry!” Hope all but yelled in Alice’s face. Alice looked at her confused. “Henry! He was 15 when I was born. Certainly he would know the whole story. Hopefully, he would tell me the whole story.”  She suddenly looked concerned. “We need to talk to him somehow. I don’t want to freak him out in a letter, which means I somehow need to call him.” She started pacing the cabin. “But the directors won’t let us use phones. Even if we were in better standing than we currently were.” Hope said, getting more and more distressed.

“I think I can help you with that part.” Alice announced as her face widened into a huge smile.

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

It was lunch time the next day before Alice finally clued in Hope as to what she meant. Since they were in the Get Along Cabin, they were also forced to eat lunch at their own table away from the rest of the cabins. But Alice’s friend, Lori, from her former cabin, had managed to sneak a cell phone into camp and was using that to get money, food, and other sundries from her cabin mates.

Alice walked by her former cabin after receiving her lunch in line and gave a series of knocks on the table as she walked by. That was apparently the signal to let Lori know that she was interested in using the phone. Alice continued walking to the table she and Hope shared to eat lunch.

“That’s it?” Hope asked, having watched Alice give the signal.

“Yes. She’ll get in touch with us at some point today. You better have some money ready for her or she won’t give us anything.” Alice said, taking a bite of her sandwich which looked to her to be just orange marmalade and bread. Hope grimaced.

“What, it’s good.” Alice said, defending her sandwich choices.

They didn’t hear from Lori until after lights out that night. Hope’s anxiety was getting the best of her, convinced that her mother had been lying to her about her father her whole life. Alice was taking it more in stride, as she didn’t get flustered easily. That and her gut didn’t seem to sense that her father had ever lied to her, which made things more confusing.

A series of knocks, similar to the ones Alice had tapped on Lori’s table earlier that day, sounded from the other side of the door. Alice knocked back before letting Lori in. Hope rolled her eyes over the whole spy scenario they had going on.

After the door closed, Alice finally spoke. “Hope needs to make a phone call.” Lori looked at Hope, only knowing that she was the rival of her friend.

“Why should I help her?” Lori asked scrutinizing Hope who sat on her bed practically ignoring the whole conversation. “She doesn’t even look like she wants my help.”

“I do want your help.” Hope said with a sigh. “I need to call my brother. It’s an emergency and it concerns both myself and Alice, so name me your price so we can just get this over with, please.”

Lori arched a bushy eyebrow at Alice who nodded in agreement. “20 bucks.” she said simply.

“20 bucks for a phone call?” Hope asked incredulously, but this phone call was important and she really needed to talk to Henry.

“Hey, you took way more than that playing poker the other night.” Lori retaliated. Hope sighed. Lori was right. She’d walked away with at least $40 in quarters and ones. Hope walked over to her bed and pulled out a small box from under it and grabbed twenty ones. She stood up and walked back over to Lori and gave her the money. Lori made a big show of counting the money out before handing the phone over to Hope.

Hope dialed the number for Henry’s phone, thankful that she’d had his cell phone number memorized since she was six in case of emergencies, and praying that he answered even though it would come up as an unknown number. Surprisingly, he answered on the first ring.

“Hello?” Came the voice of her brother from the other side of the line.

“Oh, Henry, thank goodness. It’s Hope.” She said relieved.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at camp?” He asked, and then, “Are you alright? Do I need to come rescue you?” Big Brother Henry, always looking out for Little Sister.

“No, everything’s fine. Or, well….I don’t really know how to explain it.” She paused trying to get her bearings. Alice had distracted Lori from listening in by showing Lori her newest drawings that she’d done since moving into the Get Along Cabin. It seemed that Lori was a big fan of Alice’s artwork. Hope took a deep breath, “Um, there’s a girl here, who looks almost, well no, she is, identical to me. Her name is Alice.” She paused trying to see if she could hear any type of reaction from Henry, but there was nothing but the sound of his breathing on the other end. “Anyway, we have some questions, and, well, I thought you might be able to answer them.”

Henry remained silent for so long that Hope almost had to check the phone to see if they were still connected. After what seemed like forever, she heard Henry sigh.

“Do you have a day when your camp goes into town that I could possibly meet you?” He asked, and then, “Meet you and Alice?”

Hope looked over at the camp calendar that showed all the outings the camp would take during the six weeks. Sure enough, there was a town day coming up in two days. Hope told Henry this and they made plans to meet at a small coffee shop that Henry found through Google Maps.

“Do you know who she is, Henry? Do you know anything about what is going on?” Hope asked, her voice sounding really small.

Again, a resounding silence on Henry’s side. Hope could almost see him warring with himself whether to tell her anything or wait until he saw her in two days, and then she heard him sigh. The sigh she recognized as the Little Sister had won sigh.

“She’s your sister. You and Alice are twins.”

Tag List: (Let me know if you want to be added or removed)

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[ohblackdiamond]

little t&a (gene/paul, nc-17) (part 27 of 29)

part 1   part 2   part 3   part 4   part 5   part 6   part 7   part 8   part 9   part 10   part 11   part 12   part 13   part 14   part 15   part 16   part 17   part 18   part 19   part 20   part 21  part 22   part 23   part 24    part 25   part 26   part 27   part 28   part 29

Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort levels, and Gene’s libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic. In this chapter: Gene and Paul draw each other, and Gene makes his confession. The sky is falling and we’re getting pretty near the end.

It felt like a shorter lunch than it really was. Paul ate all of his soup, but only half his sandwich, while Gene dove into both with as much relish as usual. In fact, he ate two sandwiches and Paul’s leftovers.

“I hope you didn’t want to do it right after we ate,” Gene said awkwardly. Paul was looking at the plates and silverware, debating cleaning things up. In the end, he just wiped off the counter and stuck all the dishes in the sink.

“Nah. Give it awhile.” He shrugged. “The only trouble is, we’ve pretty much exhausted all our entertainment options at my place.”

Gene smiled.

 “Paul, are you really telling me all you have over here is a T.V., an album collection, and some self-help books?”

“I’ve also got sketchpads. And painting supplies.”

“You still paint?”

Paul shrugged again.

“It’s not great. I don’t have time to really…”

“Let me see.”

Gene was actually a pretty fair artist. He never drew cartoons of his bandmates like Paul was prone to, in a bad mood, but he liked to sketch out comic book characters. He’d never taken any classes that Paul knew of, but he was talented. Talented enough that Paul was a little wary of showing him any of his efforts.

It occurred to him how stupid that was. He was about to fuck this guy—had spent the last four nights in bed with him, even—but somehow showing him some acrylic paintings was making him nervous. Somehow what passed for his body of work was more vulnerable than his actual body.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Cool.”

“C’mon, they’re in the guest bedroom. I’m surprised you didn’t find them earlier.” He’d had aspirations of having his own studio, or at least using one of the rooms for that express purpose, before the reality of nine or ten months on the road at a time hit him. He didn’t even paint enough while he was at home to justify that kind of expense.

Gene followed him over to the guest bedroom. Paul leaned over, dress hiking up as he yanked some cardboard and canvases out from under the bed.

“Here we go.” Instead of holding the pieces up for Gene’s inspection, he just set them out on the bed. He hung back a bit, heart thumping, not quite daring to want to watch Gene look at his work. Actually showing it to Gene felt a little like hearing his own voice on the answering machine, or the echo from a microphone, all the flaws bouncing back at him, magnified a dozen times.

The pieces didn’t have too much meaning behind them, nothing really far out or deep he was trying to convey. Bright streaks of color, some of it in splatters, but most of it in strokes, with no consistent pattern. Purples and pinks tended to dominate. There were points where he’d tried to layer on the colors, fooled around with it, only he’d half-forgotten the proper technique to do it the way he wanted. Most of the art didn’t really have a focal point, except for an odd one-off where he’d tried to paint a sunset while it was still in the air. That one was on a piece of cardboard torn off a refrigerator box. It had maybe a found art, rustic quality to it or something. And the color scheme wasn’t too bad, either, the red sun spilling over a hasty backdrop of orange and pink clouds and trees instead of his neighbors’ houses.

“I like this one a lot.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Superman couldn’t fly with that sun.” Gene picked up the piece of cardboard carefully—too carefully, a piece of paper that had been beneath it starting to flutter towards the floor. Paul snatched it before it got there.

“What’s that one?”

“Oh, it’s only a sketch,” Paul tried to dismiss, but Gene seemed curious enough for him to hold it up for Gene to see. Part of him wanted to hide it back under the bed like a child, for all that it wasn’t particularly incriminating. Just a sketch of his own face. The hair was probably the most accurate part, hopelessly unruly; he didn’t quite think he’d gotten his own nose right, or eyes, but…

“In the makeup.” Gene’s finger touched the edge of the star on his eye.

“Well, sure. It kept me from having to shade much.”

“You look depressed there.” Gene still running his finger down the sketched-out lines of his face made Paul feel stupidly warm, like he was touching him by proxy.

“I don’t look good?”

“I didn’t say that.” A pause. Paul could always recognize when Gene was about to start a critique with him. He’d hesitate, which was kind of funny, because he never did it with anyone else, just plowed through with whatever comment he had. Paul would usually get offended anyway, but he was trying not to, at least for today. “Hey, would you do me a favor?”

Not a critique at all. Paul was vaguely surprised.

“What’re you wanting?”

“Let me try my hand at it.”

“Gene, I’m not letting you go over my drawing—”

“No, no. Let me borrow one of your sketchpads.”

“You wanna draw me right now? What for?” Paul could feel himself tense up slightly as he reached over, gathering up the paintings and stuffing them back under the bed. Despite himself, he was yanking out another pad of drawing paper from there as well. “If you wanted your album photo, all you had to do was check the newspaper.”

“I don’t want your photo. Just you.”

Paul handed the sketchpad over. There was an odd sting somewhere in his heart.

“You can’t want what you’ve already got,” he said quietly. He didn’t wait for Gene to respond, clearing his throat hastily. “I make a terrible art model.”

Gene’s expression, a little unreadable earlier, quirked a little.

“I’ll let you draw me, too.”

“I feel like you’re hard to draw.” But he’d gotten another piece of cardboard to bear down on after tearing off a page of the drawing paper for himself. Then Paul was gathering the rest of the supplies—pencils and gummy erasers—from where they lay in a coffee mug on the nightstand. It wasn’t exactly the most put-together setup. He just wasn’t around enough for any extra effort to be worth it. The guest bedroom’s only real use was as another place to stash his tour and art stuff. He could count the number of times anyone had slept there on one hand. “You don’t… really have one feature that really stands out—”

Gene stuck out his tongue.

“Oh, God, I’m not drawing that. Just your face. C’mon, sit down.” Paul gestured towards the bed, scooting up on it himself, sitting cross-legged on the pillows, dress bunched up. The cardboard and piece of paper were resting on his thighs, one of the pencils in his hand. He gave Gene the mug and sketchpad, scrutinizing Gene’s face. “Let me try first, okay?”

“Go for it.”

He’d never really studied Gene’s face before. That sounded a little stupid, given everything. Gene still wasn’t exactly attractive, though he looked a lot better now than he had when they’d first met. That hadn’t been the draw. It still wasn’t the draw.

Paul didn’t ask Gene to try for any particular expression as he started in, drawing the circle, the center line, mapping out the sections of his face in the half-remembered way he’d learned back in school and trying to adjust from there, only to, as usual, abandon the mapping about two minutes in. Gene’s eyes weren’t quite as dark as his, and his nose was bigger—you can’t hide the hook, Totie had said, back on their stint on the Mike Douglas show, and Paul remembered snickering with everyone else about it backstage. She’d had his number. Gene had struck up a friendship with her after that, excited to get to know another Jewish entertainer. Paul privately hoped he hadn’t banged her in the process.

He was distracting himself. It was hard to do the expression lines around Gene’s mouth without making him look forty-eight instead of nearly twenty-eight, so Paul abandoned all but a light insinuation before skipping over to his hair. He thought he could get that right, at least. Gene’s hair was somewhat coarse, and tended to frizz even worse than Paul’s own did, and it wasn’t as thick. All of the teasing and backcombing and tight ponytails had done a number on it. Paul pursed his lips, trying to approximate the texture with his pencil, and the sheen with his eraser.

“How’s it coming?” Gene asked, after about fifteen minutes. He’d been pretty patient, not shifting around much, even stopping himself the few times he tried to scratch his face.

“I think I did a damn good job on your eyebrows.” Paul turned the sketch around with a slight groan. “Everything else is a little…”

“You made me look really sad.”

Gene wasn’t wrong. Paul hadn’t quite figured out what to do with Gene’s lips when he’d drawn them, so he’d had them sink down a bit. The eyebrows really were pretty good, to his own estimation, and the hair was okay, and he’d at least started with the proper face shape, but—he hadn’t really caught Gene properly. Whatever his essence was, it hadn’t transferred onto the page.

“Frowns are easier to draw. Smiles, you have to get just right, and get the light in the eyes…” Paul shook his head. “Not a lot of room for error, right? And if you mess up, your drawing ends up looking like Norman Bates.”

Gene laughed, shaking his head.

“But you’ve got me looking like myself. It isn’t just the eyebrows. The chin and the mouth are right--”

“But it’s not great, either. I’ll try again later on.” Paul set the drawing down. “You can do me if you want.”

“Interesting choice of words.”

“Oh, shut up.” Paul shifted, suddenly antsy. He’d only ever seen Gene draw his own fanzines and doodle on napkins. He knew Gene wasn’t going to take this as a serious art study, but… but on the same token, letting Gene draw him felt--revealing. Almost too revealing. He wasn’t as bothered by the face Gene was going to draw as what it signified. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what Gene saw when he looked at him. What stood out to him.

If he drew a pair of tits, Paul grimly promised himself he’d keep denying Gene at least until tomorrow.

“Tilt your chin up a bit,” Gene said, and Paul did so. His fingers worried unconsciously at the straps of his dress. Paul waited for more instructions, but they didn’t come. Just the scritch of the pencil against the sketch paper, and the occasional fuzzy sound of the eraser rubbing back and forth on the page. Gene kept such direct eye contact on his face that Paul was getting a bit intimidated.

“You took art in school, right?”

“Only a couple of terms. I liked it, but I wanted to get in all the electives I could.”

“Even weight training?” Paul scooted to the side.

“Your art school had weight training?”

“God, yeah. We even had a football team.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I never said we won anything.” Paul paused. “Do you want me to pose?”

“No. You’re fine like you are.”

“Should I smile?”

Gene looked like he was considering it for a second, and then he shook his head.

“Just relax.”

Paul tried to, but he kept fidgeting. Not getting any direction was making him nervous. He wasn’t gutsy enough to try to look alluring without the makeup as a shield. Gene had stopped talking as he’d gotten more into the drawing, only responding to Paul’s attempts at conversation with a few “yeahs” and “uh-huh”s. He was taking longer than Paul had, too. But he seemed pleased with himself far before he signed the bottom and held it out for Paul to see.

“Here you go.”

Paul was a little stunned.

He was nearly right there on the page. Big dark eyes greeted him. Full lips, slightly parted, revealing a little of his front teeth. High cheekbones. Gene’s portrait of him was more thorough and detailed than Paul’s attempt, stopping at the shoulders, where the dress straps drooped. More attractive than Paul knew he actually was; Gene had, oddly, been kinder about Paul’s nose and jaw than was accurate, but all the same-- he’d captured something of Paul on the page. Some facet. Tenseness or intensity or both. The sketch was clearly of a chick, sure, but-- it was him.

“Gene, this… shit, this is really good.” Part of what impressed him was the self-assured pressure and definition of most of the lines. Paul’s own tended to fade out, like he was mentally erasing them after committing them to the page, but Gene went into it with a much heavier hand overall. The contrast was interesting. “And I thought all you could draw was Batman. You’ve been holding out on me for years.”

Gene shrugged.

“I had someone cute in front of me. That makes all the difference.” He paused, moving to sit beside him, pointing at the sketch. “You’ve got pretty eyes.”

“Since just lately?”

“No. Since always.” Gene seemed to hesitate. “Paul, in a way, you don’t really look all that dif--”

“Peter told me they made me look like a beagle,” Paul stumbled out before Gene could finish. He wasn’t sure why he interrupted that way. Gene snorted, reaching over and draping an arm behind Paul’s shoulders. Paul let him.

“Maybe more like a moppet. You remember those posters.”

“Yeah. Julia had them in her room when we were kids.” But he wasn’t displeased at the comparison, somehow, reaching to put the sketches and supplies on the crowded nightstand, before leaning back against Gene’s arm and shoulder. He could feel Gene start to tense, so Paul turned his head, impulsively, pressing a kiss against his cheek. “One of them was a harlequin or something, I don’t remember.”

“Paul.”

“What?”

“You didn’t let me finish. You don’t look all that different.”

“Come off it.” Paul could feel something cold and odd trickle up his spine, something he was almost afraid of. “I’ve had tits for a week and a half, don’t try to kid me.”

“I’ve been kidding myself.”

“Gene, what’re you talking about--”

“You’re the same as you always were. You’re beautiful.”

Paul sat there stunned. The icy feeling up his spine seemed to melt and dissolve in an instant. He didn’t want it to. He wanted to hold onto it. Use it as something to protect him, something to chase away any hurt, any vulnerability. His face was going florid, and all of a sudden, he couldn’t look directly at Gene, staring instead at the hem of his dress.

“I don’t want to make a promise I can’t keep. But I think… I think there might still be something there after we break the curse.” Gene’s hand found one of the shoulder straps on his dress, fixing it back up, though his gaze was still firm on Paul’s face. Completely unwavering. Paul’s heartbeat felt like it could smash straight through diamonds. “I know that’s not enough for--”

“It’s enough.”

“Paul, look--”

“It’s enough.” Paul was surprised at the slow strength starting to rise from his voice with every word, like a newborn foal wobbling to its feet. “Even before all this happened. Any time I’ve ever gotten to have with you is enough.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.” He was able to look at Gene now, right in the face. The warmth he’d tried to avoid was blazing inside him. It felt funny, somehow, to feel so sure, so certain, in the face of a maybe, that things would still be all right, one way or another. It felt like the bulk of the burden, the fear, was really, truly beginning to dissolve. “Gene, I…”

He couldn’t say it. Gene was waiting on it, face so near his own he could feel his breath. He kissed him instead, reaching his arms around him half-blindly, clenching tight. Paul was panting as soon as Gene broke the kiss, pressing another and another against his cheek and chin and throat, climbing into his lap as though he belonged there, and maybe, for just a little while, he did.

Gene was so warm, so unbelievably warm. Paul could swear he could feel Gene’s own pounding heartbeat against his. His breaths were coming only a little bit better than Paul’s were, his dark eyes dilated. Gene’s mouth was back on his before Paul could think clearly, needy and wanting, and it was all Paul could do to pull back and manage one last request.

“Hey. Before we-- do you think you could take me back to o-- my bedroom?”

Gene had him gathered up in his arms in seconds. Paul held tight, pressing his face against Gene’s shirt for all of the minute it took to cross from one room to the next, taking in his scent as he finally dared to hope.

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

Arcade au part two

summary:  can you do a part 2 to the Arcade Au

‘How did it go?’ Is the question Eddie asks first thing after Richie and Luke step back into the house. He has a nonchalant demeanor, but his hands are rubbed red from washing them over one too many times, a nervous tick Eddie has, and it exposes the true concernment Eddie is under.

‘It was alright’, Luke grants, tone bordering on boredom, uncaring about anything that has to do with the subject of Richie. Richie can’t be a hundred percent sure, but he’s pretty confident it’s simply a mask Luke wears to not reveal too much, just like his father did with Richie all the time in Derry. Eddie blanches for a second and then glances at Richie, who’s not succeeding in hiding his content of how the day went, a smile beaming his face and lets a gust of air escape.

‘Great, that’s great.’

Richie is filled to the brim with everything he wants to tell Eddie, but he required to wait until Luke leaves the room. He’s fallentering with three boxes stacked on the others, packed with donuts that Luke enjoys, he went a little overboard, kicking the door shut with his foot. Comically, in what could be an impression of an old tv sketch or a bug bunny cartoon, Richie juggles his way to keep all three  boxes off the ground and in his arms. Some of the donuts are getting squashed, but Richie bought so many it’s not terrible to throw a few out. No rewards are granted for his efforts though, Luke and Eddie engaged in their own conversation without so much as a glance at his antics.

‘Your mom called,’ Eddie exclaims, ‘she asked me to ask you if she should pick you up. So you could eat dinner at her house?’

Luke mulls over it, shaking his head with a shrug. ‘Me and Richie already ate actually.’ Richie dares to look sheepish. ‘But we bought dessert I thought we could eat at the dinner table?’

‘Yeah of course,’ Eddie agrees easily, taking mercy on Richie and helping him with one box. ‘In a minute okay?’

‘I’ll be up in my room’, Luke agrees, deeming a goodbye to Richie and gliding up the stairs. The two lovers see him off, smiles never leaving their faces until he’s out of sight and unleashing the inner turmoil once he is.

‘What the fuck Eds? You’re going to skip straight to sweets? Before healthy, actual dinner? You gave me hell for that last week!’

‘You heard my son Rich, he chose to spend more time with us here and not go back to Myra so for once it’s fine. And that’s not important anyway, I’ll live. Tell me how it went? Inform me off all the details.’

‘I – I don’t know.’ He felt so confident a minute before, but now all the overthinking is chipping away at his brain again, nitpicking every small word and body signal Luke could have possibly send off and taking away his foundation of faith involving the situations. The crossing of his legs whilst in the car could signify Luke hating him. Luke’s reassuring words that Richie’s an okay guy with good intention could be a rouse to placate him and then hit him without Richie seeing it coming. Eddie’s apprehension about the situation rubbed off on him.

‘What do you mean you don’t know?’

‘I don’t think he liked me at first, there was a lot – a lot - of animosity but then I think I managed to steer to ship to safety and he ended up enjoying what we did. At least I hope so.’

‘Well what activity did you choose?’

‘Ah- an Arcade.’

‘Richie’, Eddie stated matter of fact, ‘I will kill you in cold blood and hire Stan to help me hide the body.’

Richie laughed besides himself, he fucking loved this man beyond belief. ‘You don’t like my artistic choices Eddie Spagheddie?’

‘No I fucking don’t. Who takes a fifteen year old to an arcade?’

Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales deeply, lips pulled downward in a sour expression. Richie’s heart plummets, the boxes tethering dangerously so hat Richie has no other option but to put them down, then stuffing his pockets full with his hands.

‘I was really trying Eds’, he promises, examining the spot in the carpet he caused by accidentally lighting a fire, in his clumsiness stamping against a candle that fell down and burned a piece of the carpet away. He most likely wasn’t designed for this sort of thing, to father a kid when he had childlike tendencies himself. Who was he kidding in pretending he ever stood a chance?

Eddie trains his gaze back on Richie, wrinkles softening around his eyes. ‘Oh Rich’, he says, so empathetic it burns Richie from the inside, too much and to sweet than he deserves, he needs to get rid of it.

‘Welp, that’s my cue to leave trough the backdoor and never come back, I might go see if I can find your mom somewhere show her a good time’, finger gunning his way to the door, Richie is quick to leave, only to get backtracked by Eddie.

‘No, stay.’ Richie does so immediately, and Eddie’s hand finds his upper back circling around and around to alleviate some tension there. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make you feel like you weren’t doing a good job. You are, Luke is just cautious of new people. I’m sure you guys had fun.’  

‘He hated me in at the start though, I could tell.’

‘Luke’s a broody teenager whose life recently got uprooted, of course he’s not going to be trilled, but if he truly despised you he wouldn’t hold back, he’s my son remember’, Eddie chuckled, coaxing out a smile on Richie too.

Richie rotates back around, scooping Eddie up in his arms and resting his worries in the middle between them, like Eddie is going to strike it all away in a heartbeat. If Eddie could, he would.

‘What if he doesn’t like me Eds? I really, really want him to like me.’

‘The judgment is still out on that one. But for now you’re okay.’ Luke voices, toying with the app on his phone in order to avoid an awkward conversation. ‘Can we eat desert? I’ve been craving it since Richie stopped to go get them.’

‘Wait, really? You think I’m cool?’

‘Don’t flatter yourself too much old man, I still beat you at the game you said you were best at, but I think you’re okay. Decent enough to date my dad.’

Richie smiles remains on his face even as he nods off to sleep later that night.