#OOPS i meant to write something else today but got ~inspired~

[starrystevie]

18+ | cw: explicit sex | crossposted on ao3

it starts off small, so small that it takes probably a bit too long for steve to notice that it's even happening. in the months after hawkins started to rebuild from the literal ground up, the harrington house had become an oasis of sorts to anyone in the party who needed it. it sometimes felt like there was a revolving door without any sort of lock on his front porch with how many times he'd get home to see someone sitting on his couch unannounced or curled up on a chair by the pool.

steve isn't exactly surprised when his products run out faster than usual. it started with his hairspray, which he chalked up to the rats nests that became mike and dustin's heads as they learned what teasing did to their hair. but then it shifted to his shampoo, his cologne, his laundry detergent, his conditioner. and sure, he was having to buy all of it more often, but if that meant his makeshift little family was taken care of, then so be it.

but then he notices it. every so often without a pattern, no rhyme or reason, he'll get home and the house will smell like him. almost like steve had just left in the morning for work, spicy cologne and tangy hairspray tinging the air, the smell of his shampoo as strong as it would be if he had just stepped out of a steamy shower.

it doesn't bother him, what's his is the party's and all that, but steve can't figure out who it could possibly be. whoever is coming to his house to take a shower doesn't own up to it, doesn't have their hair quaffed in any ridiculous fashion with dried farrah fawcett hairspray.

it's a wednesday afternoon when he finally pieces it all together.

steve left for work that morning without his wallet so he drives back home on his lunch break with hopes to retrieve it and make some sort of half-assed sandwich for lunch. when he opens the door, he can hear the shower going in his bathroom, can vaguely hear someone talking to themselves, and the scent of his cologne hits his nose immediately.

glancing up the stairs warily, steve toes off his shoes and sets his keys on the entryway table before making his way up to his bedroom. the closer he gets to the door, the stronger the smell becomes, and the more obvious the voice becomes.

he didn't spend weeks cleaning his wounds and helping him relearn how to walk and petting through his hair after a harsh nightmare woke him up screaming to not know exactly what eddie sounds like when he's in pain.

steve's feet clamor up the stairs quickly. he's picturing the worst, picturing eddie on the bathroom floor after slipping on the wet floor with broken bones and open veins, picturing him curled into a ball while the shower runs cold over him as he tries to pull himself out of an upside down headspace.

what he gets isn't that.

what he gets is a bathroom full of steam from a burning hot shower with the smell of his cologne and shampoo drifting through the swirls of condensation. what he gets is eddie leaning against the side of the shower with steve's conditioner bottle in one hand. what he gets is eddie's product-slick hand working over himself with steve's name falling off his lips followed by whines, slack jawed with eyes closed and a pinch between his eyebrows.

and, oh.

oh.

steve's crossing the tile floor in only a few steps so he can throw the glass shower door open, eyes unable to look away from the conditioner dripping off his hand as eddie jacks fast and hard over his cock.

he can feel himself getting hard in his work khakis at the sight, thinks back to however many times he's pictured this exact same thing happening in his bedroom with lube and less clothes on his end.

any residual worry melts away into lust racing through his veins as his name being moaned out of his lips echoes through his brain. eddie startles as steve opens the shower door, conditioner bottle clanging noisily on the floor as he drops it in shock.

"steve?!" eddie exclaims, ripping his hand off his cock to try and cover it up with his fingers instead. "what're you-"

"it's been you this whole time?" steve can feel the grin pulling at his lips, knows that it probably looks like some mix of feral and turned on, and hopes that eddie can pick up on it, too.

"what's been me?" eddie responds, still shifting under steve's gaze like he's trying to shy away from it. his skin has turned pretty pink either from the hot shower spray or from embarrassment and steve wants to feel the warm flush under his palms.

steve's eyes land on his bottle of cologne on the shower shelf next to his shampoo bottle and he reaches past eddie to grab it, ignoring the squawk it pulls out of him when his bare arm brushes over eddie's wet chest. the steam is still swirling around them, causing steve to squint as he tries to make out eddie's expression.

he looks bashful, something he's never seen on the face he knows oh so well. the face he's memorized and pictured late at night. his hands are still scrambling to find bits of him to cover and he has his bottom lip pulled between his teeth, biting at the chapped bits.

without speaking, steve shakes the bottle of calvin klein in his hand and lifts his eyebrow in an unspoken question, steam not strong enough to hide how much more pink floods into eddie's cheeks.

"okay wait, i can explain, i just-"

steve takes another small step forward, watching eddie's eyes as they roam over him, watching his eyes go to roll back when his hand must brush over his hard cock the right way.

"just...?" steve taunts and he doesn't want to be mean but he only has so long of a lunch break. he intentionally lets his gaze trace over eddie, trailing down to where his hands are covering his cock and steve wants nothing more than to get his hands around him instead. "just what?"

he can see something snap in eddie, the bashfulness from earlier fading into annoyance as he rolls his eyes. "i just like how you smell. there, happy?"

"almost," steve grins as his free hand comes up to start unbuckling his belt slowly. eddie's eyes track the motion, grow wide before coming back up to meet steve's. "sounded like you were saying something when i walked in. sounded like leave or eve or..."

eddie rolls his eyes again before cutting him off. "cocky bastard."

"... maybe it was the name of a guy who is 2 seconds away from getting his hands on you. shame, i guess we'll never know."

he's being too forward, he knows it, knows that if he keeps it up he might scare eddie away. but he has to be forward, can't dance around it any longer because his cock is close to be painfully hard and he doesn't think he can go back to jerking himself off knowing eddie's doing the same with things that smell like him to help him get there.

"don't joke around," eddie says before swallowing, shifting his weight between his feet.

gently, so gently, steve reaches out his free hand and wraps his fingers around one of eddie's wrists to pull his hand away. eddie sucks in a breath through his teeth and looks at steve, eyes still wide and oh so pretty. he gives him a nod, small and stilted, before pulling his other hand away.

"not a joke. wanted you for so long..." steve trails off before letting his fingertips ghost over his cock. "is this where all my conditioner ends up?"

eddie whimpers, honest to god whimpers, and nods his head while he watches steve's fingers like a hawk. "like smelling like you."

steve stills his movements, takes in a deep breath and holds it so he doesn't do something stupid like drop to his knees and get a mouth full of conditioner. yeah, he's definitely going to be late getting back to work.

"and my cologne?" he whispers, walking his fingers lightly up his shaft to tickle the hairs on his lower belly. "what do you do with that?"

"just- just spray it in the steam so it gets all around me so it's... it's like you're here," eddie's voice is hitched, still low and gravelly but tight like he's afraid to fully let go. steve doesn't exactly blame him considering he's close to ruining a perfectly fine pair of work khakis. "steve, please."

steve can't take it anymore. can't take his big brown bambi eyes looking at him like he'll evaporate away as quickly as steam, disappear like fading cologne. steve reaches into the shower to turn off the faucet, crowds eddie against the wall, ignoring the water seeping into his socks, and finally presses their mouths together.

kissing eddie is everything he could have imagined, it's messy and fast and has their teeth knocking while they try to get as close as possible. there's a wet hand gripping onto steve's waist through his work polo and he thinks it must be the one covered in conditioner because it squelches as eddie grips tighter.

"god, do you have any idea how fucking hot it was to walk in and see you like that?" steve asks as he breaks away to trail kisses all over eddie's neck. his hair is dripping wet and steve follows a drop with his tongue. "thought i was going to lose my goddamn mind."

"probably about as hot as it is when i know it's you walking up the stairs based on your fucking cologne alone."

eddie's hip jump, looking for the friction that he so badly needs, his cock spreading messy conditioner mixed with precome over steve's pants. and who is steve to deny him? he drops a hand to wrap fully around his aching dick, his other hand working to unbutton his pants so he can pull his own cock out.

steve could live here. live in the whines eddie's so graciously giving him, live in the sensation of a hand drenched in expensive conditioner wrapping around his dick, live in the overwhelming smell of himself, a smell that now also means eddie.

it's fast and over within barely a few minutes. they're both too needy and desperate, too high strung to make it last any longer than it does. eddie's biting into his lower lip to stop from screaming and steve's grunting as he takes what he can get from eddie's release to make his slide even easier before adding even more to the mess.

steve thinks off-handedly that it's a good thing this all happened at home so he can at least change before going to work.

later, eddie's laying naked on steve's bed as he watches him change into a new work appropriate outfit, lock of his curly hair pulled in front of his nose, deeply breathing in the scent he finds there. steve looks over as he buttons up a new pair of pants, leaning with his hands on the mattress to press a kiss onto eddie's lips before heading for the door.

"quit sniffing your hair like that. gonna get tired of the smell."

eddie gives him a grin, snuggling face first into steve's pillow and then turning his head to peek back at him. "haven't gotten tired of it yet, have i?"

steve takes a mental picture of eddie in his bed, smiling up at him like he belongs there, naked and perfect and everything steve could ever want. he grabs his spare bottle of cologne off the desk next to his doorframe and spritzes some on his wrists, dabs it behind his ears. watches as eddie perks up to take in a deep breath through his nose, releasing it shakily.

"stay until i get back?" his voice sounds soft, sweet. he can see when eddie hears it to because he gives him an even sweeter smile in return, blinking slowly like a content cat. he takes another mental snapshot, files it away in an eddie shaped folder.

"can't get rid of me that easily, harrington."

and if he rushes to the store after he gets off work to pick up a few extra bottles of cologne and conditioner and whatever else eddie could want, that's nobody's business but theirs and the showers.

[jamdoughnutmagician]

Sugar, Pretty Baby...

Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Summary:After a successful date at the movies, Eddie takes you back to his trailer where things take an unexpected, but not unwelcome turn I suck at summaries oh my goddd 

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Making Out, Thigh Riding, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex (F Receiving), Missionary Position, Declarations of Love, If i’m missing anything feel free to shoot me a message so I can tag it.

Word Count:2,117 (oops, this one runs a little long I hope you don’t mind)

Authour’s Note: This is sort of a part 2 to From Me to You but you don’t necessarily have to read that to follow this. I was inspired/gently encouraged by @billybluboy to write a part 2 that was absolutely filthy and I think I accomplished that. 

Masterlist

True to his word, Eddie picked you up at 7pm on the dot, ready for your movie date. He was a true gentleman through and through, although you already knew that. Holding your hand, and intertwining his fingers with yours, swinging your joined hands between the two of you whilst you walked.

And now after watching the movie, you were sitting in his van as he drove you back to his trailer.

"I had a great time today, thank you for agreeing to go out with me” he chuckles nervously.

“I had a great time too, Ed” you beam back at him.

He gets out his van and quickly rushes around to the passenger’s seat door to open it for you.

“Ever the gentleman..” you giggle as you make your way out of his van.

Taking your hand in his, he leads you to his trailer.

“Wayne’s working nights, so it’s just us tonight.” He says, pushing through the door.

“Oh, really?” you say with a hopeful look in your eyes “Just us?”

“Yup..nobody else around..just me..and you” he says lowly his brown eyes flicking down to your lips.

Taking your opportunity, you lean up,with your hands tenderly holding his face, and press your lips to his in a sweet kiss. His lips are chapped and taste slightly sweet, a reminder of the popcorn you’d shared on your date.

“I’d been wanting to do that all evening” you admit shyly.

His lips are back on your in an instant, one of his large hands splayed holding your hips, the other cupping your cheek to bring you closer to him. His tongue sweeps across your lower lip, before slipping in and deepening the kiss, desperate to taste you.

He walks you back to the couch in the living room, before sitting down. You take the initiative to straddle his spread thighs, and continue to kiss him. Your lips are eager to be on back on his. Your kisses begin to trail their way from his lips down, burying your head in the crook of his neck whilst your lips work to leave open-mouthed kisses on the exposed skin, and suck claiming bruises on his throat.

Feeling you leave hickeys on his neck gave Eddie a strange sense of pride. He was always going to be yours, no questions asked, but now he had a reminder of how much he meant to you.

Whilst he indulged you in your quest to suck dark bruises into his skin, Eddie had his own ideas. His large ring-adorned fingers found themselves shamelessly gripping onto the soft flesh exposed by your short skirt. He wonders if you chose this short skirt knowing that this would be how you two were going to end up? 

Your hips are rolling themselves against his lap, and underneath the dark denim of his jeans, he feels his cock stirring, beginning to press against the seams of his boxers.

Smirking against his neck you pull away, and look at him. His brown eyes look to you with lust and a flush is creeping across his features. 

“Eddie, are you hard?” you gently tease.

“Well, what did you expect? I’ve got a pretty girl sitting in my lap, and she’s kissing me like it’s her favourite thing to do” he lightly chuckles.

“That’s because it is my favourite thing to do. You wanna do something about it?”

“Not yet, Sweetheart..I’m kind of enjoying just seeing you sitting so pretty in my lap like that.”

“Oh.” That wasn’t what you were expecting to hear. Most guys were all too ready to get straight to the sex, but this admission from Eddie made your heart swell with adoration for him. Even in this increasingly sexual situation, he still found time to be the sweet Eddie that you knew him to be.

"Sit up a moment, Sugar' Eddie asks, his hands still holding their place on your hips. "Want you to rock against my thigh just a little" He flashes you a cheeky grin.

You throw each of your legs over his thigh and begin rocking yourself over the rough denim of his jeans. His fingers are playing along the hem of your skirt, and his eyes are locked on yours as you nod your head, giving him the go-ahead to flip your skirt up. His eyes glaze over upon seeing the growing wet patch on your panties. The combined feeling of your wet panties, and his jeans are creating the most delicious friction as you shamelessly grind your hips over his thigh.  

However much Eddie was enjoying watching you roll your hips on his thigh, he needed to see you. All of you.

“Sugar, I wanna see you…I wanna see my pretty baby..” he mumbles out, as his lips are leaving trailing kisses all over your neck.

“Only if I get to see you too, Handsome” you wink teasingly.

“Fuck… Yeah..okay, okay, Sweets. Give me a moment.” 

You swing off his thigh, and move to stand up. You watch as he all too quickly tugs his shirt over his head, and works on unbuttoning his jeans, and hooking his fingers to pull his boxers and jeans down in one quick motion.

You use this time to admire him in all his naked glory, eyes taking in the details of each of his tattoos. Having only ever fantasised about this moment, you want to savour every second of it.

“I’m feeling a little left out here, Sweets..Will you let me see all of you?” he says, his eyes looking over you, his hand dropping down to lazily tug at his hard cock.

You are quick to slip your panties down your legs, along with your skirt. Gripping the hem of your shirt in crossed hands you pull the shirt up and over your head. Sneaking your hand behind your back, your fingers make quick work of popping the clasp of your bra before taking it off.

Eddie takes you by your hand as he motions for you to lay down on the couch. You open up your legs, to give him space to get comfortable between your thighs. However, what you weren’t expecting was for him to settle between your thighs, with his face so close to your wet centre.

“Can I taste you, Sugar?” Eddie asks, his voice taking on a seductive tone.

You nod your head, not confident in your own voice at this moment.

His tongue darts out the wet his lips, before he moves in closer, taking one long firm swipe through your folds, the tip of his tongue coming up to flick over your clit. His tongue swirls around your clit a few times, before he sucks it between his plump pink lips, causing your hands to reach down to tangle in his mess of hair, needing something to keep you grounded.

“Can you take one of my fingers, Sweets?” he mumbles against your wet heat.

“Mhmm” you nod, your eyes closed, feeling too blissed out to form any kind of coherent sentence.

He slowly works one of his long fingers inside you, whilst his tongue is drawing lazy patterns over your clit. His fingers are working in and out of you, curling themselves upwards in a way that has you moaning a little more louder than before, letting him know that he’s found your spot. He slips one more of his fingers inside you, and continues on his mission to get you off. His other hand is splayed on your lower stomach, keeping you right where you are, and adding a gentle pressure, the chill of his clunky metal rings against the warmth of your skin is a welcomed sensation. 

 You can feel him grinning against you, as his tongue and fingers continued fucking you.

The ever increasing knot tying itself together in the pit of your stomach threatening to snap at any moment. The only sounds in the otherwise quiet trailer are your high pitched moans and the obscene sounds of Eddie slurping up your sweet juices like he needed it to survive.

“Come on, Sweets, you’re close..Can feel how tight you're squeezing on my fingers..She wants to come for me..” 

It didn’t take very much more until the knot in the pit of your stomach snapped and you were thrashing out your release against Eddie’s face.

As you slowly come down from your high, you look down between your thighs where Eddie is unashamedly sucking his fingers into his mouth, cleaning off your wetness.

“mmm..Tastes so sweet, baby” his teeth shining with a wide grin.

‘You’re unbelievable, Eddie Muson.” you laugh.

“Well thank you, I do try.” he says smugly. “I’ve gotta be inside you now babe, I’m so hard, it’s killing me” he admits, his tone becoming more desperate.

“Well, what are you waiting for, prettyboy?” Eddie’s face flushes at your gentle teasing nickname. The sudden realisation that, oh, he liked being your prettyboy, hitting him hard.

Reaching down to his discarded jeans, he rifles through his pockets until he finds a condom.

“Were you hoping to get lucky tonight?”not being able to resist the urge to tease him once more.

“A guy can only hope, right?” he smirks, tearing open the condom and rolling down his length.

Holding his hand on one of your hips, he slowly guides himself inch by inch inside your hot wet cunt, giving you time to adjust to his size.

“You okay?” he checks in with you.

“Y-yeah feels good, Ed…Keep going..Please..” you whine.

He keeps sliding into you until he's all the way inside you.

"You still good, Sugar?" his brown eyes looking down at you with love.

“Yeah.. I-I’m still good, Ed” 

The stretch of his thick cock so deep inside you feels so good. 

His hips pull back almost all the way before they thrust forward to meet your hips. He keeps the first few rolls of his hips gentle, almost as he’s frightened that you might break. Then he feels the heels of your feet digging into his backside and your arms holding tight around him, with your fingernails digging into the skin of his back. 

Leaning your head up, you take his earlobe between your teeth and tug gently before whispering in his ear.

“Want it harder, big boy”

He swears his mind completely blanks for a moment, before his hips are snapping into action, thrusting into you deep and hard. The sounds of skin hitting skin and your combined moans echoing off the trailer walls.

He’s pounding into you hard, everytime hitting that spot inside you that has you clenching around him in pleasure.

“Fuck…Sweetheart…You feel so fucking good” he grunts out, punctuating his words with harsh thrusts.

Your chest is rising and falling with heavy breaths, and your eyes are glossy from just how good he’s making you feel.

“Swear this sweet cunt was just made for me”  his hips continue to thrust deep into you.

He reaches his hand down, using his skilled guitarists fingers to play with your clit. He’s rubbing over your sensitive nub in quick tight circles, and you can feel your orgasm drawing nearer. 

“Kiss me..Ed..please..” you voice whines out desperately.

He leans his head down to capture your lips in a filthy clash of tongues, swallowing your moans. 

“Fuck…I love you…Fuck.” He rasps out.

His fingers find your clit once more, as he rubs it in tighter circles.

“You close Sweets? You gonna come for me?” 

All you can do at this point is nod, no other thoughts in your brain apart from your Eddie.

He rolls his hips a few more times and passes his fingers over your sensitive clit and that’s all it takes before your body tenses and your pussy squeezes tightly around him with your orgasm. 

That’s what does it for Eddie, the feeling of your hot pulsing cunt squeezing him, hips stilling whilst  he spills his release into the condom. 

He halts for a moment, still inside you, to lean down to kiss you once more in a softer, more gentle kiss.

“I meant it..y’know…” he says “I do love you.” 

“Eddie…” you say sweetly.

“Now, I know we’ve technically only been on one date, but we’ve known each other for so long, I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you ever since I’ve known you.” he rambles.

You silence his rambles with a press of your lips to his.

“Good, because I love you too” you smile back at him.

His heart swells. It may have been an unconventional first date, but Eddie’s sure he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

[whumptober]

Whumptober 2020 - Updated

Welcome to Whumptober 2020! We’re doing things a little differently this year so please make sure to read the Event Info carefully. We are also excited to announce the addition of an AO3 Collection, which can be found here.

We hope you’re as excited as us to watch the Whump Community come together once again for a month of bone-crunching creativity and collaboration!

(All 31 Themes + Prompts, Event Information, and FAQs are posted below the cut!)

No 1. LET'S HANG OUT SOMETIME Waking Up Restrained | Shackled | Hanging

No 2. IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY  "Pick Who Dies" | Collars | Kidnapped

No 3. MY WAY OR THE HIGHWAY Manhandled | Forced to their Knees | Held at Gunpoint

No 4. RUNNING OUT OF TIME Caged | Buried Alive | Collapsed Building

No 5. WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING? On the Run | Failed Escape | Rescue

No 6. PLEASE.... "Get it Out" | No More | "Stop, please"

No 7. I'VE GOT YOU Support | Carrying | Enemy to Caretaker

No 8. WHERE DID EVERYBODY GO? "Don't Say Goodbye" | Abandoned | Isolation

No 9. FOR THE GREATER GOOD "Take Me Instead" | "Run!” | Ritual Sacrifice

No 10. THEY LOOK SO PRETTY WHEN THEY BLEED Blood Loss | Internal Bleeding | Trail of Blood

No 11. PSYCH 101 Defiance | Struggling | Crying

No 12. I THINK I'VE BROKEN SOMETHING Broken Down | Broken Bones | Broken Trust

No 13. BREATHE IN BREATHE OUT Delayed Drowning | Chemical Pneumonia | Oxygen Mask

No 14. IS SOMETHING BURNING? Branding | Heat Exhaustion | Fire

No 15. INTO THE UNKNOWN Possession | Magical Healing | Science Gone Wrong

No 16. A TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD DAY Forced to Beg | Hallucinations | Shoot the Hostage

No 17. I DID NOT SEE THAT COMING Blackmail | Dirty Secret | Wrongfully Accused

No 18. PANIC! AT THE DISCO Panic Attacks | Phobias | Paranoia

No 19. BROKEN HEARTS Grief | Mourning Loved One | Survivor's Guilt

No 20. TOTO, I HAVE A FEELING WE'RE NOT IN KANSAS ANYMORE Lost | Field Medicine | Medieval

No 21. I DON'T FEEL SO WELL Chronic Pain | Hypothermia | Infection

No 22. DO THESE TACOS TASTE FUNNY TO YOU? Poisoned | Drugged | Withdrawal

No 23. WHAT’S A WHUMPEE GOTTA DO TO GET SOME SLEEP AROUND HERE? Exhaustion | Narcolepsy | Sleep Deprivation

No 24. YOU’RE NOT MAKING ANY SENSE Forced Mutism | Blindfolded | Sensory Deprivation

No 25. I THINK I’LL JUST COLLAPSE RIGHT HERE, THANKS Disorientation | Blurred Vision | Ringing Ears

No 26. IF YOU THOUGHT THE HEAD TRAUMA WAS BAD... Migraine | Concussion | Blindness

No 27. OK, WHO HAD NATURAL DISASTERS ON THEIR 2020 BINGO CARD? Earthquake | Extreme Weather | Power Outage

No 28. SUCH WOW. MANY NORMAL. VERY OOPS. Accidents | Hunting Season | Mugged

No 29. I THINK I NEED A DOCTOR Intubation | Emergency Room | Reluctant Bedrest

No 30. NOW WHERE DID THAT COME FROM? Wound Reveal | Ignoring an Injury | Internal Organ Injury

No 31. TODAY’S SPECIAL: TORTURE Experiment | Whipped | Left for Dead

Alternate Prompt List

Alt 1. Punctured

Alt 2. Falling

Alt 3. Comfort

Alt 4. Stitches

Alt 5. Stoic Whumpees

Alt 6. Altered States

Alt 7. Found Family

Alt 8. Adverse Reactions

Alt 9. Memory Loss

Alt 10. Nightmares

Alt 11. Presumed Dead

Alt. 12. Water

Alt. 13 Accidents

Alt. 14 Shot

Alt. 15 Carry/Support

Event Info

WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 Official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. They are meant to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don't have to include the exact wording into your work). Additionally, there are 3 prompts for each theme.  These are optional suggestions and can be used in conjunction with the theme, or as options/alternatives.  We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks.

Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, and photo/video/audio edits. Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.

When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag the with:

#whumptober2020 …..(the event tag)

#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(theme number)

#bruised, #stabbed,  …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)

#fandom or #OC

#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)

#teeth, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Keep in mind not to add “tw” in front but only use the word/trigger itself, because tumblr sucks)

#nsfw, #nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)

PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober2020​ blog. They must be tagged in the order above.

Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.

Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month.

Questions not addressed below can be directed to this blog as well.

Thanks for reading, and happy whumping!

Frequently Asked Questions

Q. What kind of content can I make? Can it be NSFW?

This is a MIXED MEDIA event! You can write fic, post meta, doodle or paint, create a gif set or photo edit, link a song, or get crafty with video - anything goes. As for NSFW, make what you like, we just hope that you’ll tag your work accordingly so that others participating in the event can stay safe :)

Q. Do I have to do all 31 Days? Can I post early/late?

Participate as much or little as you like, and post whenever! Just be sure to tag your posts properly (ex. #no.11, #psych101). Combining prompts into one piece of work is okay, and posting late is as well so as long as it’s in October.

Q. What if I don’t understand a theme?

Send us an ask! We’re happy to help clarify. That said, the themes are entirely up for interpretation :)

Q. Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges?

Absolutely! That’s like shooting two whumpees with one bullet :)

Q. Can I upload/repost my whumptober content to other social media platforms?

Of course! We’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there. The archive can be accessed here. The blog is the official archive, so please respect the boundaries of any closeted whumpers in your social circle :)

Q. Can I use prompts to write a new chapter for an existing fic?

Yes

Q. An existing fic I am currently writing contains many of the Whumptober prompts, can I use it?

If you are actively writing this fic at the moment with the whumptober prompts in mind, yes. If it just conveniently checks the boxes, then please don’t. You can, however, add new chapters answering one or more of the prompts.

Q. What kind of characters can I write for?

Fandom characters, OC characters, human, furry, alien, cyborg, whoever you like.

Q. Can I use a prompt multiple times?

Yes,  but it only counts once

Q. If I’m not comfortable with one day's prompts can I use a prompt of a different day as a substitute and still be a completionist?

Yes, but please do not use a specific prompt twice. We have also created an alternate prompts list that you can draw from [here].

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Post where and how you want. You don’t even have to (cross)post it to Tumblr. Just keep in mind if it’s not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive.

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You can, but this is an October event and wouldn’t it be more fun with everyone doing it at the same time? That being said, you can post early, but we won’t be reblogging any work predating October 1st.

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Yes you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish it in October for it to count towards being a completionist.  

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Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you :)

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One continuous story is fine.  The challenge is to write something for 31 prompts. If that’s spread over 31 fics or just one, you are still considered a completionist. (The same goes for every other media you choose.)

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See this post

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See this post

Q. My interpretation of the prompt isn't whumpy at all, does that count?

No, sorry, but keep in mind that whump [see definition] is something very nuanced and different for everyone and emotional whump/angst is just as much part of it, as is physical whump and torture. So before you dismiss your idea, think about this.

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Absolutely! That’s why we posted the prompts a month in advance. We recognise how difficult it can be creating for 31 days in “real time”.

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tw at the end of the word, ex. emeto tw

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Note: This is a creation challenge, please don’t repost your old work under our tags (unless it’s been changed or edited for the event).

[sagemusesoutloud]

Anti-Romantic, Part 1

(credit to the original owner of the image)

Character | Jaehyun x reader Genre | nonidol!au, Mutual Pining, Slowburn, Fluff WordCount | 3.6 K Author'sNote | lmaoooo the fact that I intended this to be a oneshot type of thing oops. Wellllll, I tried. Most likely to be a two part series, but we'll see.

This is part of a series I intend to call "If Songs were Fics" and this particular one was loosely inspired by TXT's Anti-Romantic bc I'm obsessed. I hope you enjoy reading as much I enjoyed writing it!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

I don't know who loves me

And I don't care, It's a waste anyways

A romantic feeling, Kinda scares me

“Any plans for you birthday next week?”

Jaehyun shakes his head at you, “no, not yet, don’t you have that date with that barista?”

“I’m not sure, he’s been acting weird over text lately. Might not be worth it,” you shrug your shoulders. “Besides, it’s your birthday! You only get one of those a year, we should plan something.”

You were on your way to the gym, a ritual you and Jaehyun had ever since you both found out you worked for the same company. You had been childhood friends, but ended up losing touch since you went to separate universities.

It was a nice surprise to see a friendly face on the first day of orientation and throughout the duration of your training for the next six weeks. Although you were both from different departments, you enjoyed taking your lunch breaks together and sharing small gossip about your old class-mates.

“ugh, don’t remind me,” he let’s out a long sigh, “every year, it seems like my family won’t stop pestering me about starting a family.”

“What’s so wrong about that?”

“Nothing, just not for me. Or at least not yet. I don’t think I’m the type to settle down,” he shrugs again as if it were no big deal.

You gasp, “how could you say that? I’ve seen your insta account. It’s got your cousin’s kids all over it!” You stop to take a good look at him as he holds the door of the gym open for you. “Back in school too, you used to tutor those elementary kids for volunteering hours. Even when you didn’t need them. You’ve always liked kids.”

“That’s different…”

“Right. Totally different things. Got it,” you roll your eyes. This wasn’t the first time he mentioned not wanting to settle down. At first, you had thought it was because he liked ‘keeping his options open’ like back in high-school. Or, not that you knew for sure, but if the rumors were true then it meant he slept his way around. Apparently, he never slept with someone twice and despite the cold shoulder the other party would get, all you had ever heard were praises. Not that you paid that much attention or anything.

You and Jaehyun had the same circle of friends, but despite that, he had never made any advances towards you. You’d be lying if that didn’t bother you at least once or twice. You just assumed that he didn’t want to make the friendship awkward or mess with the friend dynamics of your group. Which was why your crush on him in junior high ended as soon as you got to high-school.

You ended up going on dates with other people, but nothing that kept your interest. Nothing that compared to how you felt around him. Not that he seemed to think the same, so you tried your best to stay the good friend you always have been. You didn’t want to push something he clearly didn’t want; not that it didn’t hurt any less. Throughout the years it’s become bearable, at least. Almost like a painful habit.

You check in and head to the locker rooms to change. His nonchalance about the subject had always puzzled you. You’d seen first hand how all the female coworkers seemed to sway their hips as they walked by him, how some would pop a blouse button more than usual when around him, and you swore no one else was getting that much help throughout training more than him. He was handsome and a gentleman, that much was painfully obvious.

You meet him outside by the water fountain, “ready for warm-up?” he guides your way to the treadmills.

“When’s the last time you dated?”

You would have laughed if you weren’t so shocked to see him trip from the corner of your eye. “why the sudden curiosity?” He finally responds.

“Not sudden, I’d always wondered.” You defended. “You’re good looking and you’re very…I mean, you live on your own and have your own car. You have good relations with your family AND you’re good with kids. So, what is it?” You hadn’t realized how troubling you thought it all was. But now that you started digging you couldn’t stop.

“I just—” you pause, “it doesn’t make sense.”

You hear him chuckle, “you might wanna slow down before you pull something.” You look down and realize that your pace had gone from a relaxed jog to a borderline run during your rant. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to psychoanalyze your only friend in the city.

“Well, I just don’t know how to let people in. It’s just that.” He finally responds. “I love kids, but I don’t know or think I’d be a good partner.” He slows down before stopping, ending the conversation. He waves you off with an easy smile as you stay running.

Huh, maybe you pushed him too far. Your eyes can’t help but follow him around the gym.

Sweet and bitter chocolate, The taste at the end is always the same

Like the saddest movies, Only tears in my eyes

Your hands were sweaty the entire morning, anticipating your lunch time. It was his birthday today, and while you hadn’t made any concrete plans you ended up agreeing to go over to his place after work. Your gym bag was ready with snacks and comfy clothes to stay over. You remembered him saying he was excited to watch that new Marvel movie that had recently come out so you had bought it online to stream it at his place as a surprise. But what had you nervous was the small heart shaped box sitting in your purse. You didn’t know what possessed you to buy it but you had immediately thought of Jae when you passed by it at the mall. You remember vaguely mentioning that it was a special occasion to the sales lady (as in, his birthday), but she must have thought it was your significant other rather than friend because she changed the box to the red velvet shaped one while giving you a wink. In her defense, you could have protested but…why didn’t you?

You hear a knock on your door, “hey little miss sunshine.” Ah, Nakamoto, this couldn’t be good news. He was only sickly sweet to you when he needed a favor.

“What do you want?” you deadpan. He only laughs as he makes himself comfortable in your office. “Well, nothing in particular. Can’t stop by and see how you’re doing?” he feigns hurt.

“Right—the last time you ‘came by’ you left me working over-time through the weekend,” You sigh, “so what is it this time? Missed meeting? Late proposal?” To be fair, your supervisor WAS overworked sometimes. And since you were the only worker under him, it was normal for him to sometimes share some of the load with you.

He smiles at you, “nope. Just have a proposal for you. I know you’ve been working hard these past few months and I’ve been really impressed by your work ethic.” He stands and moves closer to your desk, “And I thought some sort of reward was in order, as well as celebration.” Ok, now you’re confused. You were ok with the reward part, it usually came in the form of a gift card to your favorite coffee shop, but celebration?

“Why would we celebrate? Did I miss something?”

“Not yet, but I did recommend you to the partner position with me. And I wanted to be the first to tell you that the boss approved it earlier today. So, what do ya say? Dinner on me?” he extends his hand out to you and wiggles his eyebrows playfully.

Oh.

Shit! You were hoping this would happen eventually, moving up from the entry-level position you had. But you had never thought it would be this fast. “Oh my gosh, are you serious?” You give him your hand and he shakes it in mock salute.

“Of course, some people will come by to move your computer to the office next to mine. You start Monday!” he winks, “So, wanna go to that new rooftop restaurant? This is a once in a life-time ticket, so you best say yes.”

But your dinner with Jae…He’ll understand, right? He has to. It’s not like he seemed that excited about it anyway. And you could always spend the day together tomorrow, too. It would be pretty rude to turn down Yuta after he pulled some strings for you…

You smile at him, “Thank you Mr. Nakamoto, I won’t let you down as a partner. Yeah, dinner sounds great. Wanna meet there?”

You sit down on the small table, now nervous for other reasons.

Jae sits opposite of you, a small smile on his face. “Hey you,” he greets.

“hey…” you start, “I hate to change plans so suddenly, but…” crap, you feel really shitty. But you really were between a rock and a hard place.

“everything ok?”

“yeah, no. I actually just got promoted,” you start.

“You did? That’s awesome! So fast, too. Wow—but shouldn’t you be more enthusiastic about it?” he chuckles.

“I am, just—my old supervisor wanted to go to dinner to celebrate. And I don’t think I could say no after helping me out like that.”

“I mean, did you want to skip it or?” Now he’s confused.

“Well, he wanted to go out tonight since I start Monday and today’s Friday…I don’t think I can come over tonight,” you explain.

Realization crosses his features before he gives a small smile. “Don’t worry about it, you’re fine. And he’s treating you! You don’t know when the next time he offers might be,” he continues, “we can celebrate another day anyway.”

“Are you sure?” now you feel like shit.

“Of course I’m sure.”

For the rest of the lunch, a thick silence settles before he excuses himself back to work.

Jaehyun knew this was coming. Nothing ever went his way; it’s why he kept everyone at a distance from his heart. But he was weak when it came to you. This game of push and pull was bound to keep happening, and it only brought him that all familiar foul taste in his mouth.

I know, that sweet love song, Those words of promise

When you turn around, It's just an unfamiliar someone

It was why he decided to go else-where for university, instead of joining you and some of your friends to the one closest to home. He chose to go across the globe—far, far away from the curse of you.

It had started on a windy day, back when you were 4 and new to the town he grew up in. Jaehyun didn’t want to leave his mother’s arms, he didn’t like the thought of being with strangers until later in the day even if his mom promised that she would be back. A little girl with jean overalls like his came up to him and his mom, “why are you crying?”

“I am not!” he sniffed. He didn’t need to make new friends like his mom was trying to tell him. All he needed was to go back home. You took out something from your pocket and showed it to him, “look, my mom said I could give one to my first friend. She said it was sharing. Want one?”

In her little palm, were two kiss chocolates. “You’re not my friend,” he grumbled, “I don’t know your name.” At that, you giggled, “I’m Y/N!” you took his hand and placed a chocolate there, “there, now we’re officially friends.”

“See, Jae? You can spend some time with Y/N and have fun. Before you know it, I’ll be back,” she promised.

“Yeah, Jae! Come play blocks with me, and then we can try the coloring.” You held his hand as you led him deeper into the classroom. Just like that, Jae began to feel a little warmth in his chest. He didn’t mind that his favorite thing to do was play tag outside or that he wasn’t really good at coloring inside lines yet. But that didn’t matter to him. As long as he had this one friend around, he was content.

Sorry I'm an anti-romantic, I want to run far away

My heart that already chases after you, Blazes up as a small flame

Looking back at it now, it was a little funny. All it took to let you in back then was a simple chocolate kiss and your little sticky hand in his leading the way. You were always larger than life to him, sometimes he forgot that you were just as human as him.

As you two continued to grow, nothing seemed to change your friendship. But he knew that the depth of his feelings wasn’t mutual. It was in the way that you brought a lot different people together and decided to call it your family. Another of your friends, Jungwoo, liked to joke that you collected introverts for fun. To Jaehyun, it was more likely that you just didn’t see the fun in leaving people out. You were charming and passionate. Traits he wished he had. Your empathetic nature and gentle disposition were all that Jaehyun needed, even if he wasn’t the only recipient.

Once you guys started to hit puberty, things started to feel rocky. Jaehyun couldn’t help but physically distance himself from you, his ears were always red-hot. You had always been pretty to Jaehyun, but you were starting to become really beautiful. And if the boy’s locker rooms’ talk were anything to go by, then other people were definitely starting to realize “what a great catch” you were.

It really pissed him off. Who were they to say things as if all you were was a piece of meat? It disgusted him. But what disgusted him more was the fact that sometimes, he couldn’t help but also feel the way your body felt in his when you hugged in greeting. He hated the way his body reacted to everything you did.

He first messed around with a senior girl back when he was a sophomore, Sooyoung. She was leaving and he couldn’t take it anymore. Your boyfriend was a piece of trash and he was tired of hearing the way he would share what Jae considered to be intimate moments that had no business being public. But you seemed so happy… that next game, Jae stole the ball from him and scored on his own. Even if it cost him a three hour lecture from the coach, he would do it again. Fuck being a team, that guy was an asshole.

What he hadn’t planned on was liking messing around. He would never admit it, but the reason he couldn’t commit was because he couldn’t get rid of that small grain of hope that glowed in his chest every time you stared at him longer than would be deemed normal. It wasn’t often, but he knew he wasn’t seeing things. So, he succumbed to the cycle of push-and-pull that you guys had going on.

Jaehyun wasn’t blind, he knew that your work definitely spoke of your professionalism, but he’s also seen the way Nakamoto stared after you. Of the way his hand would often touch your waist when walking together. Even now, as he hears you apologize through the phone again as you get ready for your “date” with him he can’t help this heart feel heavy with anger. Anger at himself, for letting you slip away once more. He usually hopes for nothing but the best for you, but this time, he wishes you had an awful dinner.

Sorry I'm an anti-romantic, I don't believe in romance

I'm afraid that after burning my whole heart, It will only leave behind ashes

Throughout the entire dinner, you can’t seem to get Jae out of your mind. It keeps you from enjoying the delicious food, keeps you from keeping your usual banter with Nakamoto.

You’re about to call it a night and thank Nakamoto for inviting you out when he beats you to it, “damn, I was hoping this might be a good break from the usual overtime we do, but something tells me your mind has been elsewhere,” he offers good naturedly, “I know it’s valentine’s, so maybe this is why we feel so awkward, right?”.

You grimace a bit at that, “ah—I’m sorry. I really am grateful for the way you look after me in the company and I’m also thankful for this lovely dinner,” you stop a bit, afraid you might offend him, “I agreed to come out tonight, so no need to feel awkward.” You offer a smile.

“Alright then. I guess you already have your sights on someone?” he prods. Should you be honest? There was no rule against dating outside your department, and you were pretty sure your new boss’s wife also worked within the company. “…I do. But I’m pretty sure they don’t feel the same way. It’s been so long since we’ve known each other. Surely if something were to have happened, it would have by now.” You were loosening up, definitely the wine’s fault.

Nakamoto sighs at that, “damn, and here I thought I could woo you after this,” he winks jokingly but you laugh him off. You knew he didn’t care for you that way. “I really hope you’re talking about the guy you always eat lunch with. I swear everyone thought you guys were married when you were released from training.”

“What?! No, I—we’ve been friends since we were children—”

“Aha! So it was him then,” he smirks. “Good.”

You groan, “Please, no.”

“What, it’s not him? You sure about that?”

“I will neither confirm nor deny that statement,” you groan. Why were you discussing your love life? You push the wine away and take a sip of your water.

“Hmm. That’s too bad. Could have sworn that guy was after you.” He stands up. “But fine, I’ll stop prodding.”

You sigh in relief—“for now.” You groan. “What do you even mean by that? You don’t even know him. Or me, or at least personally at least.”

“Mmm, I don’t have to. Some things you just know. Like how he wishes I was six feet under every time we run across him at work,” he sobers up at that. “He seemed like a cool dude, but his glare isn’t too friendly. I don’t know how you fell for that.”

You scoff, “just because someone has a resting bitch face doesn’t mean they’re a bad person.”

You both make your way to the underground parking. “You’re right, it just makes them unapproachable. Is that why you won’t confess?” His genuine tone rubs you the wrong way, you don’t need be given false hope.

“Stop it, you said you would drop it,” you frown, “Anyways, thank you for the food boss—”

“—not your boss anymore. Just call me Yuta, we’re partners now.”

“Aren’t you two years older than me?”

“And?”

You shrug at that, “well, thanks Yuta. For the food, not for the interrogation.” He chuckles at that, nodding while pulling out his car keys. “see you Monday!” he waves you off.

You sigh as you get home. It wasn’t as late as you thought it was, only a few minutes past nine. You really wanted to see him. Would he be busy?

You fish out your phone and dial his number before chickening out.

“Hello?”

“Jae! It’s me. Are you busy right now?” your heartbeat is pounding so loud, you’re scared he could hear it on the other end. “Right now?” you hear shuffling on the other end, “no, I was just reading that book Jungwoo sent me. Might have dozed off a bit into it but don’t tell him I said that,” he chuckles.

“Why, is everything ok? It’s still early, did you end dinner that fast?”

“Oh, Yuta and I called it a night pretty early. Too many couples were out and about and it got a bit awkward,” you explained.

“Yuta?”

“Ah, yes. Yuta Nakamoto, but now that we’re associates, he said it would be better to address him less formally.” You waive him off, “actually, I was wondering—if it’s not too late, can I still come over? If not, that’s cool. We can still hang out tomorrow, but your birthday is today and I thought—”

He laughs at your rambles, “of course you can come over, you know you don’t have to ask. How many times have I told you that?”

“Ok, ok. Just checking,” you still had your comfy change of clothes in your car, so you opt to save those for tomorrow and change into something causal for tonight.

“Do you want me to go get you? We can get ice cream on the way, hopefully they don’t close early.”

“Sounds like a plan then,” curse your heart for melting at everything he says.

“Alright, give me 15 and I’ll be there.” He hangs up.

You look at your bag, resting on your sofa and you sigh. The entire night, it’s almost as if you could feel the weight of his gift weighing it down. Yuta is known for being very observant, it’s why he was so good at his job. Closing deals and making contracts in advertisement. Would he be right about this? You know you desperately wish he was, but is it worth risking your best friend?

EndNote | Woooow, that was a longass ride. Let me know if you liked it or if there are other typos I missed! Or just to let me know what you thought, that would be much appreciated. I'm thinking of finishing it by Sunday 6/13, so hopefully the next part is up by then. Until then!

Here's Part 2!

[fangirlovestuff]

littera scripta manet - steve rogers x reader

a/n - hey lovely people!! first of all, this is based on a moodboard by the amazing @cloudystevie​, which inspired this whole fic, thank you!! the picture above is how i imagined steve in this one, but you can imagine him however you want:) also, there’s a list of meanings of the flowers i mention at the end because i’m a sucker for the language of flowers (the flowers are in bold in the fic). i love the dark academia aesthetic and i hope i did it justice:) enjoy!!<3

title means ‘the written letter remains’

summary: unlike you, steve doesn’t have a problem admitting to himself he has feelings for his best friend. that’s what makes it so painful when it seems like you don’t.

word count: 7k (oops?)

warnings / tags: friends to lovers, Pining™ , angst with a happy ending, as slow burn as a one shot can be, an obnoxious amount of clichés but i’m not sorry, no plot just vibes (i mean there’s like,,, some plot i guess), the songs/quotes i used in this aren’t mine!!!

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

You watched as the morning mist slowly faded, the sun showing it away. You watched as the curtains fluttered against the touch of a delicate wind. You watched as the sparks of dawn came to life under the sky's watchful eye. You watched the tree beneath your window in the glory of its blossom.

You turned your body in the other direction, the one facing not the east window but the bed. And there, beside you, you watched as he stirred hazily, his body still clad in yesterday's clothes, huffing out a quiet breath before his eyelashes fluttered open to reveal the pair of familiar blue eyes.

You watched, and his eyes told you the most amazing story – his look was disoriented, then bewildered, and then, well, the most gorgeous smile stretched onto his features, and it told the rest – love, and hope, and home.

That story is the one I will tell you today.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

The first day of school was always a straining one. All the way from elementary school to high school, it was a constant in your life.

There was, however, one more constant. Your best friend.

Steve Rogers was truly the most wonderful of boys.

You two met when you were very young, your mothers getting along well, so you had no choice but to do so as well. And you did get along, splendidly. You became fast friends, not stopping even when his other friends were telling him about 'girl germs' or when your other friends were constantly asking if you wanted him to be your boyfriend, or if he was. What you and Steve had transcended it, in a way.

You grew together, and you watched as Steve Rogers became the most wonderful of men. He was your best friend, and you loved him with your whole heart. Platonically, of course.

You smiled at him fondly as the both of you stepped into your new college, in through the big iron gates. As far as you looked there was grass, trees, flowers. The big cobblestone building stood tall in the distance, and if you listened carefully, you could hear the chatter of students above the sound of the wind that was gently ruffling your uniform skirt.  

"Excited?" Steve asked, smiling back at you.

"Nervous," you let out a quiet laugh.

"You shouldn't be," he answered, "look at this place!" he gestured around, "you fit right in here with all the-" he cut himself off, closing his mouth before continuing, "you fit right in!"

"Yeah, maybe. This place is just… dreamy," you smiled. "But that doesn't stop me from being nervous."

"Well, you have no reason to be," he took your hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly.

You hoped he was right. You never liked being far away from home, but this school was truly the school of your dreams, and well, with Steve by your side… you could never be that far away from home.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

Adjusting was… an experience, certainly. This school was like nothing you've known before, the uniform seemed a bit excessive, the school halls were so incredibly long, and the grounds so vast you could barely see the outside. And yet, it felt like something about this place was magical. Like it accepted you right in, it wanted you to be there. The library was huge, and you've already spent countless hours digging away for course related materials and, well, less course related materials. The vast grounds meant you could walk out every day in a different direction, if you wanted to, and find a new hidden treasure.

You shared your thoughts with Steve when you discovered one of these treasures together. It was fairly early evening, you two had just gotten out of class and were walking off the long day you've had, and you suddenly came across some high rose bushes. Steve tried to see what was on the other side of them, but it was too tall even for him, so you circled around and found a small, rusty gate. You went through it to discover a small fountain, with a marble statue of a mermaid in the center.

You gasped in delight, unable to contain yourself from running to kneel on the grass next to it, looking into the water curiously. Dipping your hand in tentatively, you shivered at the touch of the chilly water, and immediately took out your hand, massaging it in your other one to warm it up.

Steve laughed as he finally caught up with you, not running but walking calmly. He dipped his hand in the water as well, before raising his brow mischievously. Before you could ask him what's going on, he took his hand out of the water and sprayed the cold droplets of water right on your face.

"Steven Grant Rogers!" you said, shocked, "You did not just do that," you glared at him.

"You know what, you're right," he began shuffling away, "I didn't," he stood up with a cheeky smile as you continued to glare at him, "It was a happy accident."

"Oh I'll show you happy accident!" you couldn't contain your laughter anymore as you dipped your hand in the water again, getting up to chase him around the little garden. He managed to evade you for a bit, and then you finally caught up to him, placing your cold hand right on the back of his neck. He turned around, making him lose his balance and fall down onto the grass, which in turn made you topple over him, stopping your fall with your hands just when you were about to fall onto his chest.

"Alright, I surrender!" he lifted his hands up.

"Good," you smirked.

There was a moment where you just stared into each other's eyes, each sparkling with a smile. It was broken when Steve asked, "Well, can I, uh, get up now?"

You noticed you ended up straddling his hips, which you then fumbled to undo, standing back up hastily. You dusted your skirt a little awkwardly, avoiding Steve's eyes as he got up too. You didn't even know why you were feeling so awkward. You've had plenty of play fights with Steve, there was no reason for this one to be different.

But Steve just extended his arm to you, like he did on the first day you were here. You took it, and just like that, you were fine again.

"Do you know, Stevie, I think there's something magical about this school," you told him as you were walking.

"Really? Why do you think that?"

"Well, the library's huge a-"

Steve burst into laughter, and once it died down a little, he said, "I'm sorry, it's just so… like you to say a big room full of books is magical. It's true, don't get me wrong," he said before you could get annoyed, "but I feel like no one but you would have vocalized that truth."

"Well then, lucky I'm here," you smiled.

"Yeah," he said softly, "very lucky."

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About a month later it turned out the school holds a ball twice a year, at the start of winter and at the end of spring, right before the school year ends. At first you were a little shocked, but you quickly warmed up to the idea, given that it was very much on brand with everything else in the school.

You did obviously make more friends than just Steve, so you and your friends went to get dresses together. Roaming between the big expansive stores was fun, but after a while you all realized it wasn't very affordable, and not really your style. You wandered into a small, secluded second hand shop, where you found the perfect dress – fancy but not overly glamorous, a color that suited you beautifully, and not too bad of a price. It made you feel like a princess, the long skirts shuffling gently behind you as you stepped out of the fitting room to show it to your friends, who were just in love with it as you were and told you to buy it right away.

That night you went home with a dress in your hand and a smile in your heart.

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As the school year progressed, you started picking up and drying different flowers you found on the grounds, keeping them between pages of your notebooks. A bit of a messy hobby at times, but it made you happy.

You were just writing a letter to your family, trying to figure out if and which flower you should attach to it, when you heard a knock on your dorm door.

"Just a second!" you called out before shutting the ink box, putting down the dip pen before getting up and opening your door. There, you found a flustered Steve, smiling at you with a few honeysuckle flowers in his hand.

"I, uh, brought these for you," he said timidly, "I know you collect flowers and I don't think you have some of these yet."

"I don't!" you smiled and took them from Steve's hand, "thank you!"

You ushered him in before putting the honeysuckles on your desk. "What's up?"

"Nothing much," he shrugged. He saw the letter and pen on your desk. "Oh, am I interrupting you? I'm sorry, I could come back later if y-"

"It's alright Stevie," you chuckled, "I was just writing home. Anything you'd want me to tell my family for you?"

"Ummm… hi?" he smiled bashfully and you both laughed.

"Well, that's just too long! I don't have any more place on the page for such eloquent greetings!" you teased.

"Alright, then no, I don't have anything to say to them. I wrote my family a few days ago already, so if you wanted to say anything to them, you'll just have to wait till next time."

"Anyways," you smiled, "did you need anything?"

"Not really," he shook his head, "I just, well, I don't really have a person to go with to, you know, the ball thing, so i-"

"So you want me to set you up?" you giggled. "Is it Ella? Or is it Kathrine?"

"No, let me finish," he half heartedly grumbled. "I was thinking, I wanted to ask you to come with me," he smiled timidly, averting his gaze. After you didn't say anything, he continued, "I mean, I didn't think you had anyone to go with either, and since we've been friends since forever, I thought-"

"No, yeah, that's a great idea!" you spoke up quickly, "Sorry, I just spaced for a moment, I think that'd be great, since no one really asked me and stuff," you shrugged and smiled.

"Great!" he smiled.

"Great," you nodded. You both chuckled, not really knowing what to say.

"I should leave you to get back to your letter," Steve said after a moment. "I'll, um, see you around."

You told him goodbye before shutting the door behind him and sitting back down at your desk. But you found you didn't have it in you to pick up your pen. No, your train of thought was lost, and was now racing a hundred miles per hour, because –

Because why would he ask you. Because he could've asked any other girl and they would've probably said yes, yet the thought of him going with another girl made your stomach drop in a peculiar way. The obvious answer was that it was just about his comfort zone, which you knew Steve was prone to staying in.

Yeah, that's it. It's just comfortable. Familiar.

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The night before the ball, you found yourself tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep. At around 2 am, you officially gave up and traded in your pajamas for some more presentable clothes in case someone is also awake, and made your way to the library.

Over the few months you've been here, the library has become somewhat of an escape for you. Sure, it was where you did a large amount of your schoolwork, but it was also the place that allowed you to 'travel' to several magnificent worlds.

You made your way as quietly as you could, picking up one of your favorite classics. It was an old, worn in version of Dumas' "The Count of Monte Cristo", a book which you vaguely remembered reading in your childhood and, when you stumbled upon it here, fell in love with all over again.

The place was dark, and you wanted to keep it like that, giving you less of a chance to be disturbed by others. You sat down and lit a candle, getting immersed in your book. So immersed, you didn't notice the sound of footsteps coming up behind you.

"I figured I'd find you here," Steve smiled, sitting down on the wooden chair next to yours.

"How come?" you smiled back and closed the book, not before putting a bookmark in it.

"I went up to your room to see if you were still awake because I wanted to show you something. When you didn't answer my knock, I guessed you were either in extremely deep sleep or you were here. And would you look at that, I was right," he smirked.

You chuckled. "What did you want to show me?"

"Come on," he stood up and extended his hand to you, "I can show you right now."

You smiled and followed him as he led you outside, into the chilly night. You shivered slightly as the cold air hit your face. "Steve," you complained, "I wasn't really planning on going outside. I don't have my jacket."

"Oh, right," he said, stopping in his tracks, "sorry. But you could just take mine," he said, while already shrugging it off.

"No, Steve, then you'll get-"

"Come on!" he smiled, wrapping the jacket around your shoulders, "let's go!"

You giggled at his excitement, adjusting his jacket a little before following him further away. He took you somewhere you had shockingly never been before, a small, secluded field of hydrangeas, peaceful in the moonlight. You looked around in awe.

"I knew you'd like it," he smiled. "And look," he gestured upwards, "it's far enough from the building so we can really see the stars."

You looked up and your breath caught in your throat at the sight. He was right. The stars never seemed so many or so bright to you than in the moment.

"See right there? That's Ursa Major, and that-"

You looked to him, and his words faded away in your mind, becoming a low stream of sounds. Everything seemed to become softer, distant, while he flooded your mind.

In that instant, it looked like Steve had the moon in him. Soft, and bright, and beautiful. His pale skin glistened under the moonlight, but when his eyes turned to meet yours, you thought you may have been wrong.

Because in them, you found the stars.

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And there it was, the big night, the night of the ball. You were nearly ready to put on your dress when you heard a knock at your door. You opened it to find Steve there, smiling.

"I just came to check in on you," he said, handing you a few hibiscus flowers. You smiled, taking them from him, your fingers brushing against his.

"Well, I'm doing quite well," you said, and wordlessly invited him in. He followed you inside and shut the door behind him.

"You look great," he said.

"I'm not even wearing my dress yet," you giggled. Squinting, you tried to figure out what about him seemed off to you. Then, when you realized it, you stepped up to him and brought up your hand to fix his shirt collar, which was partly stuffed under his tie. You then rested your hand next to his collarbone, above his heart.

"You look great too," you said softly, smiling a small smile up at him.

"Thanks," he breathed.

"Alright, I better get ready," you chuckled, stepping away from him. "I'll see you there."

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Steve didn't think of himself as a very sophisticated guy. Sure, he was smart enough, but he was no match to you, for example. He wasn't that big on words or analogies.

And yet, when he saw you step down the stairs into the ballroom, his first thought was that you looked like the sun, ethereal and radiant in your beauty, almost blindingly so; your hair was styled in a simple manner, your face stretched in a soft smile as your wonderous eyes roamed around the room. Your dress created an angelic sort of look, and as you gently walked down each step, your hand delicately gliding on the banister, he nearly couldn't believe you were real, that you were making your way to him.

The moment your eyes met his, your smile became bigger, your steps quickened, much like his heartbeat. When you arrived, he extended his arm to you, like he has a habit of doing, and greeted you a soft hello over the sounds of the dainty music.

The night went great, it really did. You two danced together, ate some of the fancy food, laughed. It was… magical. There was one point, when you were swaying together to a slow song, when he thought –

Well, it didn't matter what he thought, didn't it? Because at the end of the night, you didn't wait on him. No, you sneaked out with some guy in the year above you.

Steve wanted to be angry. He couldn't, not at you anyways.

Ever since a year ago, when you found out you were going to the same college, he knew. The relief that washed over him when he heard the news, the gratitude of being able to be by your side – he didn’t understand how he didn't see it sooner.

He assumed, sooner or later, you'd see in him what he sees in you. The sun. Happiness; bright, celestial, divine.

But maybe you can't see what's simply not there.

Steve went to his dorm. He went to sleep, but his nightmares awakened him again and again. Nightmares of losing you. So, without any other choice, at around 5 am he decided to give up and get up, maybe take a shower.

At the moment, it felt like real life wasn't any better than his nightmares. He hoped at some point, that would change.

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"Damien!" you laughed breathlessly as he pulled you through the endless corridors.  

"What?" he chuckled, stopping and turning back towards you, pulling you a little closer to him by your joint hands. You panted a little in an attempt to catch your breath before you spoke.

"Where are we going?"

"Oh, wherever you want to! Just away from that stuffy ballroom," he grinned.

"It wasn't stuffy, I thought it was very pretty!" you defended it with a smile.

"Not as pretty as you," he softly said, bringing his hand to cup your cheek. He's been complimenting you like that since you two met an hour ago at the ball, and well, you were a simple girl; you really wanted him to kiss you right now.

He took a step closer and his hand traveled to your chin, holding it and gently tilting your face up. Just as his lips touched yours, your eyes fluttered shut, allowing yourself to succumb to his embrace, your lips moving against his. You broke apart for air, and you opened your eyes when you remembered.

"Damien," you said, "I just remembered, I was with my friend at the ball and I didn't tell him I was going… can we go back for a second?"

He examined your face for a second before smiling and saying, "Sure. Just for a bit though," he winked.

You made your way back in silence, the sound of your footsteps muffled by the carpets below you. Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you found him looking ahead with a smile. Bashfully, you smiled too, slightly biting your lower lip. Soon enough, you arrived.

Staying close to the ballroom doors, Damien asked you, "Can you see him?"

"I don't think so," you said with a frown, scanning the dancing crowd with your eyes. Steve was tall, usually you were able to easily pick out his frame from any crowd, but you couldn't see him anywhere nearby.

"Well," you said after a couple more moments passed, "he probably realized it and went already," you shrugged.

"In that case," Damien gestured at the exit, "After you, madam."

You giggled and bowed a small bow before exiting, Damien on your heels. You spent the night walking the grounds, talking to each other over the sound of the wind. When it was getting late, he escorted you to your room and gave you a good night's kiss, a perfect gentleman, just like you read about in books.

That night you slept peacefully, no dreams, good or bad, plaguing your consciousness. The next morning you woke up refreshed, ready to take on the day.

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You and Steve were still friends, but something changed. You didn't really see it, too occupied with school and Damien to notice, but there was a shift, a distance that wasn't there before. You still talked, you still hung out from time to time, it just… wasn't the same.

One day, when you were in the library together, one cold February night, Steve asked you a peculiar question.

"What do you think is the best way to tell someone you love them?"

"Why, any Valentine's day plans?" you joked.

"Nothing in particular," he shrugged.

"Well, I think the best way to tell someone you love them is with words. Just… say it, or write it, you know?"

"Yeah, I guess that's nice," he smiled, returning to his book.

"So, who's the lucky lady, huh?" you nudged him with your elbow, "is it Kathrine? Because I'm telling you, I really think if you'd ask h-"

"It's not Kathrine, because it's no one," he cut you off with a chuckle. "It was just a general question."

You never bugged him about it again, quite honestly you forgot about the whole ordeal.

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The months of the winter passed, and lo and behold, the spring settled over you. The winds were less harsh, the flowers were blooming again, the sun was shining brightly. With only a few scattered days of still wintery weather, you mostly studied outside on the grass, maybe under a tree. You were making the best of it, inviting your friends of Damien to study with you too. You felt like bursting into song.

One day, when you and Damien were sitting on the grass, studying together, he picked a rhododendron, sticking it behind your ear. The large flower didn't hold on for long, and fell down after a couple of seconds. You laughed, and he chuckled. Picking it up, you tried to put it on once more, but it just wouldn't stay. Then, you took it again and this time, stuck it behind his ear. Somehow, it managed to stay on.

You laughed, "You look very pretty."

"I do?" he asked, fluttering his lashes playfully, "why thank you darling."

After a while, he took it off and pressed in between the pages of his notebook. "Like you always do," he smiled, showing off the closed notebook before putting it back into his bag.

"Be careful," you giggled, "if it falls out the entire bag will be full of petals, and even when you’d think you got them all out, you'd find a couple more a few days later."

"Are you speaking from experience?" he asked cheekily.

"Why of course not! I was born a professional," you stuck your nose up indignantly, making him laugh.

"Of course you were, how could I forget," he offered you his hand and helped you up.

As you walked together back to the school building, you had a feeling you forgot something, or like something was missing. You looked back at the place you were sitting in seconds ago, but there was nothing there.

"Everything alright?" Damien asked.

"Yeah, everything's great," you answered, squeezing his hand that was clutched in yours.

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When the second ball was approaching, Damien had started to send you love letters. Every time you had gotten one, you felt your heart pick up its pace, a smile stretching on your face. Some of them were poems, some quotes, some just sentences, you didn't know which he wrote and which he read and thought of you. You took to the habit of saving them all in a small box in your room, going through them every couple of days.

I see you everywhere, in the stars, in the river, to me you're everything that exists, the reality of everything ~Virginia Woolf  

Every one of them was simply signed with three x's, signifying kisses. You smiled as you put the most recent one into your pocket, intent on putting it with the rest later.

Some days, you'd get small notes, and some days would be a rather large page. You loved both.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of being and ideal grace. I love thee to the level of every day's Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

~Elizabeth Barrett Browning 

You resonated with the words, you've always loved poems. Weirdly, you've never talked to Damien about your love of them, but you guessed he just… knew. That's what made him so special.  

If I had a flower for every time I thought of you, I could walk in my garden forever. ~Alfred Lord Tennyson

That one made you stop in your tracks for a moment. It made you think of Steve. He didn't really bring you flowers anymore. Well, maybe he just didn't find any new ones.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom.      If this be error and upon me proved,      I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

~Shakespeare

You smiled brightly as you read the note. You were getting new ones every other day. Amongst the chaos of exams, it was nice, knowing that's the way he had to keep in touch with you. You were just done reading it when your friend came up behind your back, reading over your shoulder.

"Oh, did Damien bring you this?" she smiled. "You guys are so cute together."

Today it is heaped at your feet, it has found its end in you The love of all man’s days both past and forever: Universal joy, universal sorrow, universal life. The memories of all loves merging with this one love of ours – And the songs of every poet past and forever.

~ Rabindranath Tagore

That last one you found in the library copy of "The Count of Monte Cristo". You gravitated towards it every time you were anxious, or couldn't sleep, or both. It was a comfort. Finding the note there nearly made you cry; the long day you've had mixed with the love you felt bringing tears to your eyes. You blinked them away with a smile, stuffing the note in your pocket before starting to read the book.

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Steve saw you open the book and get the note. He smiled to himself.

He didn't know if this would work, or if you'd think your boyfriend wrote them. He just wanted to make you smile.

He also wanted to make you know, make you understand what he was feeling. But you weren't exactly emotionally available right now, so Steve did the best he could; he waited.

In the meantime, he went to search for another poetry book. He was surprised you hadn't recognized his handwriting yet. He did write it a bit more neatly than he usually did, with more careful attention.

Maybe she recognized it but didn't want to say anything. Maybe that was a pitying smile, whispered a voice in his head. He shook it off.

He knew you weren't his, but he couldn't give up hope. He could wait some more.

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The spring / end of the year ball was approaching in giant steps. You were done with your exams, and already had a dress, which you adamantly refused to show Damien despite his repeated pleas. Now, you were spending an afternoon outside, enjoying the fresh air picnicking with some of your friends, who were playing a card game you couldn't care to learn the rules of. You were taking photos instead, borrowing one of your friends' camera and taking some pictures of them playing, of the scenery.

"Has Damien asked you to the ball yet?" one of them asked.

"Oh, not yet," you shrugged, "I'm sure he will though. I mean, you've seen the notes he sent me," you giggled, "I don't see another option."

Just then, you saw a figure coming towards you from afar. In the other direction, you saw Damien approaching, and before you had a chance to wonder about the other person, he was there, planting a kiss on your cheek. You put the camera down on the blanket and smiled at him.

"Speaking of the devil," your friend chuckled.

"Only good things, I hope," he sat down next to you.

"Of course," you laughed and leaned away from him to snap his picture, "what else could we have said?"

"Well, that's great, because I was wondering," he took a breath, "do you want to see me do a card trick?"

"Yes, sure," you said, slightly confused but still smiling.

He held up a card. "Could you tell me what card this is?"

"A leaf ace," you said.

"Great," he flipped it around in his hands a couple of times, before pulling off a complicated hand movement you couldn't keep track of, and was now holding a small, card sized mirror. "Now, could you tell me what card this is?"

"It's… a mirror," you said, puzzled.

"Look closer," he encouraged.

"Still a mirror, Dames," you chuckled.

"No, it’s a queen of hearts!" he laughed, "my heart, more specifically," he leaned in closer and smiled. "Would you go to the ball with me?"

"Yes! Of course I will!" you laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. Just then, you heard the shutter of the camera clicking, and broke apart from him, laughing.

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The night of the ball finally arrived. You were in Damien's room, getting ready, when you finally had the mind to say, "Oh, Damien, I don't think I ever thanked you for the notes," you smiled at him from the other corner of the room. He was standing in front of the mirror, tying his tie, while you were sitting on the bed, already in your dress, which you finally let him see.

"Oh, from last week's lecture? No problem love," he smiled at you, your eyes meeting through the mirror.

"No," you giggled, "I meant the notes you've been leaving me."

He looked at you, puzzled. "You know, the notes with the– oh come on, don’t play dumb," you scoffed playfully.

"I'm not," he said, "I genuinely have no idea what you're talking about." He finished the knot and came to stand in front of you, offering you his hand and helping you up. You stood in front of him, squinting.

"Okay," you said after a few moments. Smiling, you noticed his collar was partly stuffed under his tie, raising your hand to fix it and –

"Oh," you frowned softly.

You knew who wrote the notes. You knew all along. I mean, how couldn't you recognize the handwriting of the person you know the best? Who knows you better than anyone else?

The person you've been neglecting the past few months. And yet, he was sending you love letters. You felt like crying, because you should've known it was him. More than that, you should've realized; you love him too.  

You love him so much it nearly hurts. The man with flowers in his hand and stars in his eyes, the one who took you to every bookstore you ever wanted to visit, who gave you his jacket when you were cold, who knew not only what your favorite book was, but also what copy of it you would take.

As good as Damien was to you, he was never the one for you. He was charming, lovable for sure.

But he wasn't your Steve.

Your Steve who was probably going to the ball alone, or maybe not even going.

"Is everything okay?" Damien asked, a concerned frown on his features.

"No, I- look, Damien," you took a deep breath. "I owe you an explanation, and I swear, I will give it to you, but I just… I can't do this anymore."

"What do you mean can't do this anymore? Do you not want to go to the ball or-"

"No," you closed your eyes forcefully before opening them, "us. I don't think we should be together anymore."

"Where is this coming from? Love, is everything o-"

"It's not okay, Damien!" tears welled up in your eyes, "It's not fair to you, I know. But I just… I have to go," you stepped away from his embrace.

"Go where? You're not making any sense, please, can you just-"

"I'm sorry, I am so, so sorry, but I have to go. I promise I'll explain everything, just… not right now," you said shakily, fumbling to collect your things before leaving the dorm, and a stunned Damien in your wake.

You weren't sure where you were going, you just knew you had to find him.

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You roamed the corridors in a bit of a daze until you finally realized your legs were carrying you to the library, and shook your head, deciding to go there anyway since there was a decent chance Steve was there.

He wasn't. You knocked on his dorm room door, but he didn't answer it, so he probably wasn't there either. You went to sneak a look at the ball, but you didn't find him there too.

You were just about to give up when you looked out of one of the windows. There, you saw the small glass gazebo that was a little further away from the building. The light was on, and there was someone there. You couldn't tell if it was Steve, but you figured it wouldn't hurt to try.

You went down the stairs and outside. The night was surprisingly crisp, and the dress you were wearing had short sleeves, but you continued anyway. As you got closer, you could see the silhouette clearer; it was indeed Steve.

You stopped a few yards next to it. Now that you found him, you didn't know what to say. I'm sorry didn't feel like enough, and –

Your train of thought was cut off by Steve turning around, his eyes locking with yours through the large glass windows. You swallowed heavily.

He went outside, crossing the distance and standing in front of you. Both of you were quiet for a moment before he spoke up.

"Not going to the ball?" he asked.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I feel like it's obvious I'm not going. Where's your boyfriend?"

"I don't know."

Silence settled between you for a couple of minutes, each one of you absorbed in your own thoughts. Eventually, you were the one to speak up this time.

"I know you wrote them, Steve."

He chuckled. "Okay. What do you want me to say?"

"That you meant them," your voice broke with emotion, not knowing how true the words were until your lips uttered them out loud.

"I did. I do. I can't say I'm sorry for that."

"You shouldn't be," you said, "I'm that one that should be sorry. I am sorry," you looked up at him, your eyes sincere. "I'm sorry I didn't realize it was you sooner. And I don't mean the notes, Steve," you stepped closer to him.

"Then what do you mean?"

You licked your lips hesitantly, bringing your face closer to his. You didn't know which one of you finally broke the distance, but suddenly his lips were on yours, and it's all you could think about. You were kissing Steve Rogers, and it was enchanting. You wrapped your hands around his neck as he wrapped his around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. You melted into his touch as your hands tangled in the soft hair on the nape of his neck. One of his hands came up to cup your cheek gently, and suddenly you were both smiling so hard you broke apart, gasping for air. Your foreheads stayed connected, leaning on each other as you slowly opened your eyes.

"This," you whispered, "I mean this. I love you, Steve."

"I love you too," Steve laughed, "so much. I was afraid you will never say that. That I'd never get to hear you say that to me. I love you," he said again, his eyes looking into yours.

Just at that moment, it bizarrely started to rain. "Really?" you looked up at the sky, "it's spring! Hell, it's almost summer!"

"Maybe it's summer rain," Steve suggested with a smile.

"But it ruined our moment," you playfully pouted.

"We always have another one," he smiled, pulling you in for another kiss, not minding the rain that was now wetting your dress, his suit. You felt the raindrops fall on the top of your heads, but the sensation was a thin echo compared to Steve's lips on yours.

A thunder roared, and you broke apart once again.

"Maybe we should get inside," you suggested.

"Maybe we should," he grinned, "last one there is a rotten egg!"

He started running before you could even register what he said. Just like he did when you were kids.

"Wait!" you laughed, running after him, gathering your skirt in your hands, "Not fair! I have a dress!"

He stopped and ran back to you before picking you up with ease, carrying you bridal style to the entrance and putting you down right on the threshold.

"You're a rotten egg, Stevie," you giggled.

He looked down to see that indeed, your legs were technically inside while his weren't.

"Don't worry," you cupped his cheek and tilted it upwards so he'd meet your gaze, "you're my rotten egg."

You both laughed before you went inside. He offered you his arm and you wove yours through it, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Taking your time, you strolled through the corridors in comfortable silence until you reached your room. You came inside and turned on the heating, Steve right on your heels, hugging you from behind.

"I can't believe it's raining," you looked out of the window with a smile.

"I can't believe you're mine," he whispered into your neck.

You tilted your head back to kiss him softly before you involuntarily shivered. Wordlessly, Steve guided you to the bed, tucking you into the blanket. He was about to leave, but you opened your blanket and gestured for him to come cuddle you. He chuckled and climbed in next to you, wrapping his arms around you again.

"Tell me a story," you said as you laid your head on his chest.

"Once upon a time," he started, "there was a very beautiful princess. And she chose a normal boy. No one knew why she did it. They asked her, 'why not a prince?' and sh-"

"And she said she didn't like princes, but she loved the boy more than anything else," you smiled.

"Wow, more than big libraries?" he chuckled.

"Yes, even more than big libraries," you giggled. Humming contently, you snuggled even closer to him, the rise and fall of his chest lulling you into a peaceful sleep.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

Which brings us to where we started this story, the next morning.

The story Steve's eyes told you that morning was better than any other story you've ever heard. It was a love story that you would tell your children, and your grandchildren.

And every time Steve heard you telling it, he sat and listened with a smile.

You once asked him why he always listens to that story, it's not like he didn't know it, he lived it.

"I did live it," he answered, "but I still live it, every single day. And it gets better with each day," he leaned down to kiss you.

Steve Rogers was the most wonderful of men, and over the years he grew to be the most wonderful of husbands, of fathers and of grandfathers.

You both grew, but there was one thing that stayed the same – his heart was yours, and your heart was his; forever.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

flower meanings:

Rose – love.

Honeysuckle - pure happiness, sweet love, devoted affection.

Hydrangea - gratitude, grace, beauty, abundance. some colors also symbolize bad luck.

Hibiscus - variously symbolizes health, delicacy, beauty, respect and hospitality.

Rhododendron – beware.  

p.s. - the meanings are based on my limited searches, also there are some flowers with more than one meaning:)

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

i’d love it if you’d want to tell me your thoughts!! if you’ve stuck through this entire thing - thank you!!!<3

Taglist:  @horny-nd-bored​ @shannon124 @perfectlyharolds​ @wintersoldierslut​ @iceebabies​  @sleepingpapermouse @steverogerswasalwaysworthy @holtzkinnon @angelicl-y @stydia-4-ever @thatoneperson5000 @fangirlfree​ @kaitcordx25 @bequeening​ @steve-barry-damon-logan​ @itscrazycherryblossomcollection​ @hollandxmarvel​ @stargazingfangirl18 @readsreblogsfics @onetwo3000 @beritmetal @harrystylesholland @jazbot2000 @anobscurename @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @peggycarter-steverogers @evansphnx12 @starlightcrystalline @procrastinatingsapphictrash

if you wanna join / be removed from a taglist, comment/message me! much love <3

[oddsnendsfanfics]

Unraveling Over the Holidays

Genre: Fan Fiction

Pairing: Henry Cavill/OFC

Warnings: Fluff. Implied Pandemic world we live in

Rating: G

Length: Drabble

Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

A/N: Inspired by the need to write more Henry and Nell, along with Henry’s latest IG post and here we have it. 

Henry Cavill Master List

“Almost have it, Wild Boy.” Henry announced looking into the abyss of the computer they were attempting to build.  This was their second this year, a true feat. Rarely did Henry and Ivan get the time to break down and rebuild their own systems. It was a welcome hobby, keeping them busy when there wasn't much else to do these days.

They had been working away on the project since breakfast. Frustrated mumbling and grunting seemed to be the only sounds coming from the other room. Nell listened, checking in on them from time to time, waiting for them to finish. Today was the day they were going to finally trim their Christmas tree. After days of waiting, it would finally be a sight to behold. Or as much a sight to behold as they could manage. All in all Nell felt that she decorated a pretty damn fine looking tree.

It was shortly after lunch, when Nell began to get annoyed. When she'd brought in a plate of sandwiches and asked her husband and son if they would be done soon, both had told her that they needed ten more minutes. Three hours and one boasting Instagram photo later...

“Dad, I think I have this backwards.” Ivan furrowed his brow staring at the piece that he was attempting to put in.

“Let me look.” Henry moved to take a closer inspection.

Not wanting the break anything, risking a costly repair. Ivan was learning fast and enjoyed working with his hands. More than that, he really enjoyed the uninterrupted time with his dad. “Not backwards, but the next slot over.” Instructing his son how to put the piece in properly.

Neither of them seeming to notice or care that Nell had drug out their boxes of Christmas decorations. Outside, she and Henry had strung lights in a few bushes and around their garden early in the month. Wanting to get it done in case they got an unexpected cold or worse. Inside Nell had put up her favourite battery operated candles, the old fashioned looking ones that stood in the windows. Every window in the farm house had a candle display. The kitchen had lights and a few decorations, the sitting room, the office, and even the bathrooms were ready.

All they needed was to get the tree decorated. Presents under a naked tree was plain wrong.

“Henry, Ivan.” Nell tapped her foot on the floor, her arms folded across her chest. Huffing at the two of them. She should have known better than to let them tear apart that damn computer this morning.

“I think she saw.” Ivan wasn't doing a very good job at whispering, his mother could hear him on the other side of the room. Nell rolled her eyes. Of course she had saw the photo, over 3,000 people had saw that photo and it had only taken five minutes.

“What is it, darling?” Henry leaned back in his chair, glancing over his shoulder at his wife. Smiling sweetly, his usual trick when he wanted to attempt getting out of something.

“Tree.” She gestured to the tree behind her.

“What about it? Is it too dry? Ivan, didn't I ask you to water that this morning?” Shaking his head, Henry glanced at his son.

“I did, dad.” Ivan huffed, holding the light at the perfect angle to see inside the box.

“Guys, can we please decorate this tree? It's been here since Sunday.”

“We'll get to it.”

“When? It's already Friday. Henry, we have had this in here for nearly a week. A naked, boring, lackluster tree.” Lecturing, Nell rubbed her temples, “Christmas is in a week! A week! This is the latest we have ever left the tree.”

Setting down his manual, Henry pushed his chair away from the desk, standing to observe the tree. He hadn't thought it was that big of a deal, they had gone last week and picked out the tree, Henry wasn't sure that this would be the final spot for the Christmas icon. Something Nell would assume was an excuse.

He should have taken the photo from the other side, oops. Had he not mentioned the bare tree to the world, his wife likely wouldn't have been making such a deal about it. Until now, Nell had been avoiding it as much as him and Ivan.

“Do you want to do it today?” Wrapping his arms around her waist, he kissed the back of her head. “The wild boy and I are more than happy to let you take over.”

If she wanted to decorate the tree, by herself, it would have been done hours ago.

“Nice try, but this was to be a family activity.” Nell furrowed her brow, huffing. “Why can't you stop fiddling with that damn box for twenty minutes?”

“I love you, Mrs. Cavill.” He knew exactly how to win this battle.

“Not working.”

“Worth a try,” Henry shrugged giving her a kiss on the cheek. Squeezing his arms tighter around his wife, he groaned. Caving to her whim. “I'm going to make us some cocoa, then we can get this tree decorated. Wild boy, help your mum get the decorations out, please.”

“Uh, no.” Shaking her head, Nell escaped his clutches. “I am going to make the cocoa,” gently tapping the tip of Henry's nose she grinned, “You and Ivan can untangle the lights. I have been asking you all week, get to work.”

Laying on the floor by the tree, Kal boofed and yawned. He had heard her asking multiple times over the week, but what could be do about it? Stretching, he stood cautiously to keep his wagging tail from smashing the tree. Nell really hated picking pieces of Christmas tree from his fur. Following her to the kitchen, he hurried when her steps approached the treat cupboard.

“You'd help me, wouldn't you bear?” Spotting her shadow, Nell smiled, tossing him a biscuit. “Honestly, those two are more and more difficult every year. I feel like I'm raising two children sometimes.”

Oh lovely, here she was, in the middle of the kitchen talking to the dog. Whatever, at least Kal would listen to her gripe. Pulling down a mug and two tumbler glasses, Nell set the kettle to boil and then picked up the bottle of Johnnie Walker that had appeared on the counter a few days ago. Likely a gift from someone.

One candy cane hot cocoa and two whiskey and rosemary sours, at the ready. In the other room, Nell could hear Ivan and Henry singing along to I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas. Loudly Ivan belted out the line about the hippo being a vegetarian, Henry swaying back and forth as he laughed and unraveled the lights. To Nell's credit, when she had put away their Christmas decorations the previous year, she had done a much nicer job than Henry.

“Looking good, gentlemen.” Complimenting their work, Nell smiled handing Ivan the cocoa. “Yours is on the tray,” she kissed Henry's cheek. “I decided to make use of the Johnnie Walker.” She winked.

Taking his drink, Henry smiled. “It's your bottle,”

“Mine? Did you buy it?” Nell sat on the floor beside Ivan, working at picking out more decorations.

“No, it came the other day. Some guy dropped it off, did you not read the card?” Henry laughed, joining his family on the floor. Nell shook her head. “Hold on,” He stood back up, groaning a little.

“Mum,” Ivan spoke pulling out another bundle of lights, “when the tree is done, can I watch a movie?”

“You don't want to help dad finish with the computer?” Sorting the other items in the box, Nell sat back on her heels reaching for her drink.

“I guess, but I think I'd like to watch a movie with you. If you have time.”

“For you, wild boy, I have all the time in the world.” Nell leaned over giving him a kiss on the head. Wrinkling his nose, Ivan brushed his hand over his dark curls, resetting them the way he liked them. “Which movie did you want to watch?”

“I don't know, we can find one.” Ivan worked away at the strand of lights, getting them ready to go on the tree, when Henry came back in. His mother wasn't tall enough to read the top, which meant his dad would have to start the lights.

Decorating the tree with his parents, the three of them, felt a little odd. For as long as Ivan could remember there was always a huge production to decorating their tree. This year was quiet, like most things throughout the year. They would be video calling family over Christmas Eve and Christmas Morning, instead of having them there in person. They were supposed to spend Christmas with the Stewart family this year, as sad as Ivan was to miss his trip he understood.

“Here you are,” Henry waved the small card around, crossing the floor to hand it to Nell.

One the outside was a fancy script, containing her name in gold lettering. Opening the small card, the kind one gets with a delivery of flowers, she admired the generic looking winter scene.

“To Nelly & Superman, Merry Xmas. May 2021 be better than whatever dumpster fire this is,” she read out loud, chuckling at the sentiment. “Love always, JPS. It's from Jordan.”

“How lovely, didn't he send one last year as well?”

“He did, but he sent that really nice Riesling.” Nell confirmed. Since Jordan hadn't been able to make it for the wedding, he'd sent the gift instead. “Along with the Ardbeg, for our wedding present.”

Henry nodded, he remembered drinking both vividly. Although he didn't get much of the Ardbeg, because Nell had deemed it off limits to anybody who wasn't her. Past and present gifts sorted and settled, Henry stood up with the first string of lights in hand. “I think it's time we get these on, what about you?”

“About time.” Sticking out her tongue, Nell pulled out the tinsel and a box of ornaments. “Gosh, Cavill, you have been taking forever.”

“Can't rush perfection, my darling.” Henry smirked, attaching the first string of soft white lights to the stout tree in the corner.

“Is that why we took so long?” Ivan teased helping his mother carefully lift ornaments from boxes.

“Of course.” Henry nodded, excusing his procrastination.  “You know, I do love this tree.”

“It is a lovely tree. It's the perfect size.” Nell agreed with her husband. “I'm glad that we didn't go with a monstrous tree this year.”

Henry and Ivan had a habit of going for the biggest tree in the lot. This year, Nell had put her foot down, demanding that they pick something reasonable.

“I thought you liked a big, thick one.” Snorting, Henry paused to watch Nell's reaction.

“You, stop.” She wagged her finger at him. “Wild boy, can you go over to that blue storage bin and get the crystal star, please?”

The tree topper had been a gift from Henry's parents, the first year she and Henry had “unofficially” lived together. Nell had used it every year since, upon Henry's insistence that she kept it. Their first Christmas married, last year, his mother had wanted to gift them a new one. Politely Nell had declined, saying that she loved the one they had. Although, she was more than happy to accept the matching ornament set that went with it, as a late Wedding present.

“I love this star,” Taking the carefully wrapped box from Ivan; Nell placed it safely out of the way of Kal and Cavills.

“Lights are on.” Henry happily announced, clapping his hands together. “What's next?”

“Tinsel and bows.” Ivan sprung up with a card of tinsel, waving it wildly at his father. “Can I help?”

“What if I put on the tinsel, while you tie on the bows?”

“Deal.” Ivan nodded grabbing the gold and silver bows that Nell had made. They would soon be in need of some new bows. “Mum, momma, mum.” he bounced, “Want to help?”

“Sure, you take the gold and I will take the silver?” Standing to join Ivan and Henry at the tree. Nell took the card of silver bows, carefully tying them on to the boughs of the tree.

Over the next half hour or so, their tree began to come to life. The soft colours adorning the vibrant green really stood out in the otherwise neutral room. Laughing and teasing one another, Henry grabbed Ivan around the waist, spinning him – a safe distance from the tree – while Kal danced around them barking excitedly. Nell watched them with joyful delight, after the year they had endured it was nice to see her husband and son still keeping their happiness.

[kessielrg]

[Kingdom Hearts AU] That One Love Letter Trope

Summary: In which Ventus's kid writes a love letter for a school assignment, and it ends up being misinterpreted thrice. Dedicated to @chibi-mushroom because A) without her, Neige wouldn't even be a concept and B) she reminded me of the trope. Written over the course of the day without much beta. Enjoy!

(As of Feb 14, 2021, it's also my longest oneshot!)

Rating: K+ (alcohol mentions)

Word Count: 4,323 words

---

Neige had been looking at her word processor for a solid minute before looking up at Ventus. The 7 year old's father was getting some silverware together for a Valentine's brunch they were holding for a few friends. No kids but Neige were allowed, of course- they'd kick her out of her own house if it wasn't for the little fact that her preferred babysitters were coming over.

“Dad, do I have to do this assignment?” she whined. One of her fingers absently going over the middle row of her keyboard, leaving behind lines of gibberish. “This is hard.”

Ven paused for a moment, then came over to her to see what she had accomplished for far. It wasn't much- just that previously mentioned line of gibberish.

“You'll figure something out.” he assured her, even pressing his lips against her temple for a moment. “You always do.” And with that, he went back to his business.

“Because that's helpful.” Neige mumbled under her breath with a quick roll of her eyes. She looked back at the screen of her clam shell shaped laptop and huffed. Why'd her teacher decide to give them a weekend project anyway? No one wrote love letters to anyone anymore. It was stupid. What was Ms. Tremaine's only hint toward the project? 'Write what you know?' What did Neige know about love when the boys in her class preferred to nearly kill themselves every recess to try to jump the school's fence? She honestly just wanted to be homeschooled instead of being at that ritzy private school that was so good at teaching Neige all the stuff she needed to know before graduating. It was dumb. And stupid. She hated it.

Then, in thinking about how she'd much prefer her grandparents to teach her and how she'd gladly help her father with chores instead of stupid assignments, the girl was hit with a stroke of inspiration. Clearing her word processor of her nonsense from earlier, Neige started to carefully type out the thoughts as they came to mind.

What is love?

I want to write a story on our love but I do not know where to begin.

I want to write a story about a thing I see every day in you.

Love is distance. Both near and far. Hoping to calm a storm with only patience.

Love is always being next to you. Taking my hand to the next challenge with out asking.

Love is not cat and mouse. Love is cat and bunny with lots and lots of kisses.

Love is finding light in the dark. The strongest to protect the one that matters the most.

Love is to give up what you love because you love. It will not be easy for us.

What is love? I do not know. Can you show me?

I want to learn more from you and you alone.

She looked it over once, tweaked a bit of it, then gave herself a firm nod. This would do for now. If Ms. Tremaine didn't like it, then bully for her. With a spirited mouse click, Neige sent the document off to the printer. When the printing screen confirmed that it was done, the girl shut the laptop lid and took it with her back into the office. Neige set her computer down on the office desk to gloriously snatch the paper from the printer's feeder. She proudly looked over her handiwork as she walked back out to the kitchen.

“Why are you still inside?” a voice asked her as she made it past the counter. Neige jumped a good foot in the air as she looked around wildly for the source of the voice. She let out a sigh of relief in realizing that it was just Terra. Not long after, the girl's face immediately soured.

“Homework.” she spat in utter contempt.

“They give you guys stuff to work on the weekends too?” he wondered as he absently scratched the back of his neck. He then gave a shake of his head before telling her, “Head on out anyway. You know how rare it is to see Sora around here- better talk to him before your mom finds a reason to kick him out.”

“Right.” Neige agreed with a nod and a wide grin. She set her homework on the counter and quickly made her way out the door. Terra watched her for a moment with a fond grin on his face. She was growing up before their very eyes- and with how little they got to see Sora, Kairi, Riku, and Namine, it would have been a crime for her to be cooped up indoors all day.

Now, what had Terra been doing before getting sentimental over his adoptive niece? Oh yeah, he came in with a mission. Ortensia had pulled him aside and told him that she had left a surprise on the kitchen counter just for him, over by the recipe books. The old cat just gave Terra a sly smile when he had tried to ask what she meant. It had felt a bit weird, honestly. Usually Ortensia was more upfront about what she was thinking. Must have been some surprise if she wasn't going to tell him.

Terra let out a thoughtful hum as he started to go through the recipe books. Ortensia didn't say which book it was, unfortunately, so Terra dug through them all. As he searched, Terra accidentally knocked over a paper that had been resting on the counter.

“Oops.” he mumbled under his breath as he bent down to get it. As he set the paper back down on the counter, he noticed that something was written on it. Terra looked over the paper with curiosity then a jolt of shock coursed through him.

Was this the thing Ortensia wanted me to see? A love letter? Why would she want me to read a love letter?

Terra scratched his head as he tried to figure it out. This didn't mean that Ortensia had a crush on him, right? That was just ridiculous- she and Oswald had been together for how long? Then again, Ortensia was a cat…

“Whatcha looking at, Terra?” the playful voice of Sora said from behind the older man. “You look like you've found something horrifying.”

“Oh!” Terra remarked, quickly folding the paper in half so Sora couldn't read it. “It's nothing. Just something that Ortensia wanted me to find, apparently.”

“Oh really?” Sora bemused with a teasing grin. He then leaned forward a bit, tapping his nose in a mischievous manner before telling Terra, “Well whatever it is, I'll find out eventually.”

“Sure you will.” Terra retorted with a roll of his eyes. He tried to get past the weird man as he said, “Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a party outside and it's rude to leave guests alone for too long.”

“Uh huh.” Sora smirked. He snickered even more as Terra fumbled his way out of the kitchen, almost directly running into the table before placing something there as he finally headed on out. Sora let out one last chortle before going on to do what he had come in for- to steal food!

. . .

Admittedly, Neige didn't know what to do now that she was outside. She just kinda wandered between the adults, gave a polite hello to Kairi as she talked to Sabrina, Neige's mother, about how Kairi's first kid was doing. Apparently Dez had moved out to go to college. It didn't look like Sabrina was paying much attention though; she slowly drank from her small wine glass and nodded every now and again to whatever Kairi had to say. Neige looked away from her elegant mother to something else, spotting Namine a good distance away.

Namine was sitting on a plastic lawn chair with one leg folded over the other -which remained on the ground- to be a makeshift easel for her drawing pad. It kinda looked rather uncomfortable, which made the girl all the more curious about what the woman was doing. As Neige leisurely made her way over to Namine, she realized that she wasn't wearing any shoes. Maybe it helped to keep her one leg propped up?

“Hey Namine.” Neige happily greeted as she rested her arms on the plastic chair's armrest. “Whatcha drawing?”

Namine jumped a little, like she hadn't seen Neige come up, before looking over at the girl and giving a small smile.

“Would you like to see?” she offered, moving her drawing pad a bit so Neige could get a better look. The drawing that Neige saw made her recoil a little. Namine had been drawing a side view of Sabrina in a regal looking pose, holding her small white wine glass to the front a little. The face Namine had given the girl's mother was neutral, but still had an air of commanding authority to it. Neige noticed that the artist hadn't started to draw in the chair yet- probably to rework it into something more befitting to the way Sabrina was sitting. Namine had already taken liberties with what Sabrina was drinking; the liquid was quite clearly a pale pink color in real life, but Namine had instead made it a blood red.

“It's pretty.” Neige admitted, even though she shrunk a little- burying her mouth in her arms. Namine didn't seem to notice.

“I'm going to do a new portrait of everyone today.” Namine said. “I've been meaning to work on side profiles for awhile.”

“Even of me?”

“Of course!” Namine grinned as she leaned forward to give Neige a little bunny kiss. “You want one all by yourself, right?”

“Yes!” Neige happily agreed, giving a bright, wide smile. Her smile faded for a moment as she looked back to Namine's drawing of Sabrina. She wondered if Namine would draw her just like that- regal, and pretty, and…

“Hey Namine!” Sora hollered from the kitchen. “Can I borrow your far more dexterous hands for a minute?”

Namine giggled as she got up from the chair. She hugged her drawing pad a bit as she took it with her. What she didn't expect to see as she entered the kitchen was Sora struggling to open up a Mason jar filled with salt water taffies. Sora happened to spot her out of the corner of his eye- he gave her a nervous laugh as he offered the jar up to her.

“Please?” he sheepishly asked.

“Are you ever going to grow up?” she teased as she placed her drawing pad on the table.

“'Course not!” he mused with a boasting grin. “I'll be hitting the old 4-0 is the next few years. I'm practically set in my ways now.”

“Of course.” Namine laughed with a small shake of her head. As she took the jar from him, she ventured to ask, “Why didn't you ask Kairi to help you?”

“Kairi's distracting Sabrina for me.” came the answer, simple as day, combined with a roll of his shoulder. “I like being here, you know, even if certain people do not.”

Namine let out another light laugh before giving the jar lid a quick twist. Just like that, the lid came off with a satisfying little pop.

“Namine, you're a lifesaver.” Sora happily declared as he took the jar from her again, even moving a bit close to give her a small peck on cheek. “Without you, Riku, and Kairi, I'd be an absolute disaster.”

Now Namine started to blush. She shied away from Sora to go get her drawing pad again now that his crisis had been solved. She frowned when she noticed a loose paper by her drawings. Was it one of hers? Not thinking much about it, Namine stuck it in her drawing pad. She was about to take it and head back outside before she remembered something.

“Oh, Sora,” she said, looking back over at him. She had to hold back her laughter as the adult already stuffed three salt water taffies in his mouth, and was working on a fourth one. “I did something special earlier. It's in with my drawings- I'd love for you to see it.”

“You bet!” Sora agreed, his voice muffled slightly from the sticky candy. Namine laughed at him once more before going outside. Sora grinned as well, chewing on the taffies a bit more before swallowing them down. Good thing he did daily exercises to keep his metabolism up- otherwise Kairi would be up in his case about having to watch his blood sugar, or something.

Picking out one more salt water taffy for good luck, Sora popped it into his mouth before heading on over to the table. He happily chewed away as he opened up Namine's drawing pad to see a paper right there. Sora gave it a curious tilt of his head before picking it up. What he read on it nearly made him choke.

A love letter? Why would Namine give me a love letter? Yeah, sure, I might have have a crush on her some time ago. But that was, like, 20 years ago! We have kids now! Happily married too! At least, I thought she was happily married. This must be a mistake. Right? How often has she hung around Riku today?

Panic clouding most of his instinct, Sora blindly looked around to hide this obscene letter. He spotted a rather thick book on the shelf behind him. The man let out a noise of happy surprise before snatching it and shoving the paper inside a random page.

“What's got you all jumpy?”

Sora all but screamed before turning to see Riku near him. He even let out a surprised, “Riku!” that almost came out in a shrill squeak. “Didn't see you there!”

Riku looked back at Sora with a neat raise of his eyebrow. No matter how old he was, Sora hated when Riku would just stare at him until he spilled the beans. Thinking quickly, and not at all rationally, Sora quickly shoved the book in Riku's hands with a quick, “Here, take this!”

“Why?” Riku wondered, still giving Sora the Stare(TM).

“Because it's for Aqua!” Sora sputtered. “Y-yeah, super important that she gets it, you hear?”

“Uh huh...” came the least of assured responses. Sora sheepishly laughed in return as he started to sneak around Riku to head back outside. Riku did not stop staring at Sora with a suspicious glare. When Sora got to the door, he turned back to Riku with a rather pale face.

“Hey buddy, we're still friends, right?” Sora asked, trying to play off whatever fear he had with a weak smile. Riku wasn't buying any of it.

“Ye-eah…” he agreed as he placed a hand on his hip. “Why are you asking?”

“No reason. None of all. Carry on wayward son! Er, Riku!” and with that, the eccentric personality of Sora had left the room.

Riku only shook his head before starting to look around for Aqua. She hadn't been outside, and she wasn't in the kitchen, so he casually wandered into the living room. Sure enough, there was Aqua sitting on the couch as she talked to Oswald.

“Hey Aqua,” Riku greeted, earning the duo's attention, “Apparently it's super important that you get this.”

He presented the book to Aqua with very little flair, and the look on her face was easily confused. “Thanks?” she said as she took it. Riku only gave her a less than helpful nod before leaving. Oswald peered over Aqua's shoulder a bit to get a look at the book.

“Why was it super important for you to get 'Pride and Prejudice'?”

“Not sure.” Aqua admitted. She looked over the book for some sort of clue before noting that a piece of paper was sticking out from the book. Curious, Aqua opened the book up to find a folded letter inside. She carefully took it and started to read it over.

“Well?” Oswald asked as Aqua's face started to contort into further confusion.

“It's a love letter.”

“From Riku?”

Aqua simply shrugged as she handed the letter over. The rabbit looked over it, and eventually a bemused grin started to cross his lips.

“You mind if I take this for a bit?” he asked her. Aqua quickly shook her head.

Oswald let out a small laughter as he got off the couch and went into the kitchen. As he entered, so was Sabrina with her now empty wine glass.

“How much wine have you had today?” he teasingly asked her.

“Not enough.” came the sharp answer as the woman went undeterred to the refrigerator. “If Kairi keeps going on about how she and Sora are worried about Dez leaving the house, I'm going to chug the whole bottle then pop open a new one.”

“You're on the road to do that anyway.”

There was a disgusted scoff that Oswald couldn't help but chuckle at. Annoyed at her adoptive parent's amusement to her constant annoyance, Sabrina noticed that he was holding a piece of computer paper.

“What'd you find, old man?” Sabrina asked as she pulled out a moscato bottle from the fridge.

“Something Neige wrote.” the rabbit told her, holding up the letter with a little wave. “Aqua seems to think that Riku wrote it for her.”

“Really?” the woman snorted as she started to refill her empty glass. “Here I thought she was smarter than that. Maybe being over 40 really starts making those braincells die off.”

“I think I should tell her.”

“Why?” came the prudent question before Sabrina took a rather generous sip of wine. “This could be fun to watch.”

Oswald looked up at Sabrina, cocking an eyebrow at her.

“I'm not sure if I should be impressed or disturbed that your sense of humor hasn't waned these past twenty years.”

Sabrina only smirked as she started to fill her wine glass almost to the brim.

. . .

The adults were starting to act really weird all of a sudden. And there were a lot of weird things Neige came to know adults to do. This kinda felt like a 'keeping secrets' kinda weird, but that didn't make much sense. Not that anyone was going to actually tell her about it. Still too young, apparently. What a bore, and no less concerning. When it came time for everyone to eat, it didn't take make much for the 7 year old to note that certain people were very careful on where they sat. Not that she was going to complain- she ended up happily sandwiched between her parents.

“How much wine have you had today?” Ventus curiously wondered as he eyed Sabrina's mostly empty wine glass.

“Not you too.” she replied with a groan. “There's still half a bottle in the fridge. Besides, why are you complaining? This just means that it'll be easier to tease me later on.”

Ven's face lit up a scarlet red at the suggestion.

“Gross!” Neige indignantly hollered, knowing full well what 'adult talk' was like between her parents, however rare it occurred. The two of them looked at her, then back up at each other. A teasing smirk crossed Sabrina's lips as Ventus quickly looked away again.

Things got even weirder when they started to pass food around. Aqua tried not to brush hands with Riku when he passed her the butter dish. Terra refused to look Ortensia in the eye while they talked about some topic Neige couldn't keep track of. Sora kept changing the subject to flat out ignoring her whenever Namine tried to talk to him, which was really odd in the child's mind. She wasn't the only one picking up on this weirdness, thank goodness. Kairi was also starting to have some suspicion on what was going on.

When Kairi finally ventured to ask, “Sora, is something wrong?” it was only the beginning of one large dam bursting.

Sora had jumped in his seat, looking over at Kairi with a wide, exaggerated grin. “What ever do you mean, my love?” he playfully asked. It only served to make Kairi even more suspicious.

“Oh, it's nothing.” Kairi delightfully decided, leaning close to him. “Just the little factor that you're a terrible liar, darling.”

The spiky haired man only offered his spouse a nervous laughter as he started to scratch the back of his neck. “Look,” he nervously try to say, “Sometimes you get a love letter from Namine that kinda makes you over think things that are already decided and...”

“What love letter?” Kairi wondered, giving Sora an odd glance before looking over to Namine. The pupils in Sora's eyes shrunk when he realized his mental flub too late. Namine, who had heard her name, was also giving him a funny look now.

“I didn't give you a love letter.” Namine insisted. Sora's face started to pale- most of the conversations at the picnic table slowly going to a halt to overhear this new drama.

“S-sure you did!” Sora nervously said. “It was in your sketchbook.”

The look Namine was giving him was becoming even more confused as she slowly shook his head at him. “I didn't...”

“That's funny,” Aqua spoke up, “Riku also gave me a love letter.”

“No I didn't.” Riku almost spat back. “Why on earth would I do that?”

“For the same reason that Ortensia would give me one.” Terra said, almost blurting it out like he had been holding it in all day.

“What?!” Ortensia nearly screeched in her own surprise. Her reaction almost making her spill the wine she was about to drink. “Terra dear, have you lost your mind?”

Now it was Terra's turn to sheepishly scratch the back of his neck. “You said you left me a surprise by the cookbooks.”

“Sweetie, it was a recipe- not a love letter.”

“Just like how I wanted you to see a drawing I made of you and Kairi,” Namine pointed out to Sora.

“Wait,” Kairi objected, holding her arms out to get everyone's attention. “So if Terra, Aqua, and Sora got a love letter from Ortensia, Riku, and Namine, but they weren't the ones to write it, then who really did?”

The accusatory glares the adults gave each other caused a sudden spike of realization to hit little Neige. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that her mother took a rather amused sip from her wine glass.

“I know who wrote it.” Neige timidly spoke up. She shrank even more when she found that all the adults had their eyes on her now.

“Who?” half of them even asked. Some were more demanding than others, which only furthered the girl's guilt.

Neige felt herself flinch as she admitted. “I did.”

A hush fell over the adults now. It was Sora who gave a bewildered, “Why?”

“It was homework.” she said in a small voice. “I set it on the counter. It's due on Monday.”

The sigh of relief was almost unanimous between the adults and for a moment, Neige feared that she was going to get in trouble.

“That was where I found it.” Terra agreed. “Then when I was trying to stop Sora from seeing it, I set it on the table.”

“And I thought that paper was from one of my drawings!” Namine realized. “Which means Sora would have found it...”

“And I panicked. Stuck it in a nearby book and gave it to Riku.”

“Which I then gave to Aqua...”

“So I assumed it was from Riku.” Aqua paused for a moment before turning to Oswald. “You knew Neige had written it, didn't you?”

“Guilty as charged. You guys didn't notice that she wrote each verse about us?”

“But why didn't you say anything?”

“That would be my doing,” Sabrina spoke up, delightfully swirling her moscato. It was Sora who leaned over a bit to glare at her.

“Why must you always incite anarchy?” he asked- his voice almost boarding on annoyance.

“Because it's fun.” she replied with a charming grin. “I just gotta say though, the deduction skills in this family are simply outstanding.”

On that note, the atmosphere almost changed back into something completely normal again. Not that it stopped Neige from still wondering if she was going to be in trouble for accidentally causing the chaos. Sora was the one to pick up on her uneasy face.

“Sorry for totally wigging you out, kiddo.” he genuinely apologized. “We should have known better.”

“Some of us more than others.” Sabrina mumbled into her wine glass. Sora looked and her a gave her a scrunched face of dislike before looking back at Neige to give her a determined nod. Seeing the change so quickly did allow the girl to smile a bit. Pleased with the result, Sora reclined back and started to dig into his food.

Suddenly exhausted from this weird turnabout, Neige sagged against Sabrina. She felt her mother flinch but she didn't tell her to get off. Instead, Sabrina brought a hand around to stroke Neige against her cheek then absently twisting her hair in her finger.

“Here,” Sabrina offered as she leaned forward to get an empty shot glass. “You deserve this more than anyone.” With that, her mother reached for the white grape juice and the fruit platter. Sabrina filled the shot glass about half way with the juice, then picked out a strawberry from the fruit platter. Neige watched as her mother skillfully cut the strawberry in two and carefully started to squeeze its juice in the shot glass. She kept squeezing until the liquid was roughly the same color as the wine that sat in her wine glass.

Neige sat up a little as she carefully took the shot glass. At the same time, Sabrina picked up her glass and gave her daughter a nod. Neige nodded right back before the duo downed their drinks with a single gulp.

[alfredo-kesmann]

WIP ask game!

My Italian ass is asking for "Ci sarà", but my angst heart beats for "Solitaire". I don't want to be greedy, so let's pick Solitaire.

Unless...?

Thank you so so much for asking, and I'm sorry for reponding so late! The reason for this is mostly that I actually finally got inspiration for Solitaire again after you send me this ask, so thank you for that! I'll give you little snippets of both WIP's, because greed sometimes is good (namely when it motivates me to finally work on WIP’s). 

So, first things first: Solitaire.

You're absolutely, completely right about the angst. The entire plot is Martín angst, I'm not even kidding. The general outline is that it forms a series with Fear and loathing/ Now I see, I see it for the first time, which is about Andrés in the Mint realising he should never have left Martín but accepting that it is too late now anyways. Solitaire is to be Martín's experiences of the Mint heist and the time afterwards. The title is taken from MARINA's song by the same name, and although it only is vaguely is inspired by the song, I want to match the vibe I get from it: a supposedly beautiful life that actually is just... loneliness and tears. A ‘we could have had it all’ and ending up with empty hands. 

I only have a few paragraphs jotted down yet, though, because I find it one of my hardest WIP's to work on: I want to show a canon compliant Martín, and I want to accurately portray the way he feels like a victim, even if he isn't truly one. I want to correctly talk about his mental ilnesses (I am guessing at least depression and narcissistic personality disorder, though I’m not planning to label them in the story), but I am no psychologist. I started this WIP around March or April and I suppose I am now more sure about what I'm doing, and now the words are (finally) slowly flowing. 

That being said, enjoy these little snippets:

“Andrés was like a poisonous drug, flowing through my veins and cutting off any necessary blood supply, but it felt so exquisite, like a breeze in the warmest summer day."

[....]

Martín sat in the middle of broken glass, a reflection of him in more than one way, and cried until breathing was getting hard and his eyes were red and dry. 

[...]

The two of them had become so intertwined that sometimes it was difficult to see which one of them was dead and which one of them was still living.

[...]

The television only showed static now, ever since he had thrown an empty bottle of vodka towards it. ‘Don’t shoot the messenger’, went the saying, but Martín hadn't been able to think straight after he had heard the news. In a way the image was fitting, because Martín’s life had become static too, ever since that horrible day.

[...]

But now he understood Andrés’ romanticizing of the death, for his best friend had lived his whole life knowing he would take his own one day. And he had wanted to make his final show grand, he had wanted a last standing ovation, one that deafened his eyes, before the red curtains closed forever. Martín also knew that Andrés would dissaprove of the method he was contemplating, in his sad little flat, a simple shot instead of blazing guns. So he put the velvet box back and instead took a bottle of vodka in hands, waiting until a better idea came to mind, waited until he had a plan, ignoring how those were harder to come by now Andrés wasn’t with him anymore.

Now, Ci sarà is practically the polar opposite of Solitaire: it's pure and unadulterated fluff. The only thing they have in common is that they both are named after a song and both get too little of my attention ehehe oops. I have no idea where I want to go with this story, whether to make it a one shot, or something more. I think the latter, though.

Basically, I had been studying (very) late and it was around 3AM. I was listening to a music playlist when Ci sarà came on. It is one of my favourite Italian songs (though honestly I love anything by Romina Power and Al Bano) and yes I know, I know, my music taste is just as basic as Andrés de Fonollosa's. I, myself realised that exact fact then as well. So, I thought: what if this would be the song for Berlermo's first dance at their wedding? The song just makes me so happy in an undescribable way, and since feelings are always much stronger deep in the night, I felt so incredibly happy and in love listening to it, in the middle of the night, at a volume that was a little too loud. This resulted in me putting the song on repeat, and trying to describe that feeling I had felt. So in a way, ci sarà is a writing exercise. 

The plot thus far basically is Andrés being overwhelmed by happiness during his wedding dance with Martín (and everyone is alive and happy). Because as much as I love making him suffer in stories, I also like writing his strangely soft side around Martín. I might write the entire wedding and also the proposal, because I have ideas, especially for the latter (Andrés had been planning to propose for months, then Martín is the first to ask him. Andrés is divided between tremendous frustration and great happiness, but obviously says ‘yes’; that’s also why I imagine that they both take the surname ‘Berotte-de Fonollosa’). 

So, here some snippets (I couldn’t choose so it’s slightly more than ‘some’):

They were spinning, whilst the music was swelling, and it was dizzying Andrés. One step back, to the side, close, one forward, to the side, close, an endless repetition. Martín spinning him around and pulling him in his arms again. Their friends all singing Ci sarà, all wearing white clothing and pearly smiles, the adoration clearly visible in Martín’s eyes, how beautiful Martín was looking in the suit. No, not just Martín, his Martín Berotte-de Fonollosa. They were turning again, his husband’s -he couldn’t believe it, his husband’s- warm hand burning on his waist, then on his right cheek, only shortly and suddenly the refrain started and Martín was singing too, albeit softly, yet it’s still too loud in Andrés’ ears. Everything is so loud, so bright, so vibrant. It’s all so pure, and he’s drowning in love, with the sun shining brightly as if it was God’s blessing of their union, the perfectly green grass as nature’s wedding gift to the new spouses. 

[...]

Andrés manages to spot his hermanito in the choir made of bank robbers, he’s holding hands with his wife and Paula and he looks so happy and carefree. He has finally accepted Andrés’ relationship, he had even been the one to walk Andrés to the altar, and the things Sergio had told him then were still going through his head.

The butterflies in Andrés’ stomach were taking him over more and more, he is growing dizzy and dizzier. All this love, he has no place for it, it is seeping through his veins, bursting out of his fingertips like rays of sunshine, out of the fingertips that are currently in Martín’s hand and on his shoulder. Andrés knows that he hasn’t had much to drink yet, but he has never been more intoxicated, intoxicated on this eternity captured in less than four minutes. Martín is turning them again, leading him gently, keeping him steady. Martín is there for him like he has always been. And now it’s finally right, it’s finally the way it should be, the other ring on Martín’s hand. Finally, he has married his last spouse, it’s finally the one who he was meant to be with. Finally, finally, finally.

[...]

Andrés feels like he is flying, like his feet aren’t touching the floor anymore. The two of them form a leaf in a strong summer wind by the blue sea, slowly going upwards in an intricate dance, but they’re also so much more. They are the wind and the sea, the entire universe is drowning in their love and they are drowning in the universe. It’s all so much, so so much, yet so small. There is no Berlín, no Palermo, no monastery, no friends forming a choir, no wedding cake, it’s just Andrés and Martín Berotte-de Fonollosa, and their love for eachother. 

[...]

Andrés is oh so dizzy with happiness and love, and then he feels it, wet on his cheeks, rolling over his lips, Martín’s hand gently sweeping the oceans welling in his husband’s eyes away. He wants to open his eyes, but he can’t and he doesn’t need it anyway, he already knows what Martín’s soft smile would look like. When Martín kisses him again, softly cupping his cheek, Andrés realises his husband had been crying as well, their tears mixing together like everything between the two of them always has, the way they’ve always been. Like so many of their clothes, their ideas, their furniture, their past and future, their personalities, their love. They have always been intertwined, it just took Andrés a while to see. 

[...]

“I can’t believe you cried,” Martín said as he giggled, truly giggled, and Andrés thought it was somewhat comparable bubbles coming to the surface in a fishing pond, and then decided it was a stupid thought because nothing can compare to his husband. Andrés can’t help smiling. “You were crying too, mi marido,” he says softly, the quip in there lost, replaced by pure adoration. He takes Martín’s face into his hands. “Today was my last wedding, I know it for sure. No one else has ever made me feel like this.” And normally, Martín would have joked that he must had said that to all of his wives too, but he didn’t. Instead, his hands mirrored Andrés’, softly stroking Andrés’ cheekbones, which were still wet with tears. Their lips met without any of their usual aggression and hunger, and maybe this kiss was even more important than the one after the exchanging of vows, for Andrés just had made a promise that was much more meaningful. 

Thank you again for asking, I hope you liked these snippets! I might or might not have just started another WIP based on the season 5 trailer, so I have no clue when these two will finally be published. 

[kittymaverick]

That Time of the Year Again (tm): Get ready for MCF 21: the Harbinger commentary!

It’s that time of the year yet again! Mystery Case Files 21: The Harbinger commentary. If anyone has been waiting for the hilarity that is my commentaries, I’m sorry I’m late this year. I actually started working as a freelance writer, and projects are coming in hot. Plus a recent family matter (not COVID-related. I’m thankfully in one of the safest places from it.) meant I had to put this on a back-burner. And then I guess I left it there for too long and triggered the smoke alarm, and people entered my inbox going “Are you okay???” So without further ado, let’s get this started. *cracks fingers* I have DUAL MONITORS NOW which means I can see my commentary AND watch the playthrough at the same time. (Yet, I still DON’T have a credit card. This is the new running joke.) I’m going to be watching YouGib’s playthough. Pazu also has his playthrough up. Spoilers below the cut as usual!

First, Grandma? A new studio? (A quick google shows they have done quite a bit of HOP titles and series.) Welcome to the MCF family! I hope you’re ready for the roasting that’s ahead. 8D MD: You mean the roasting they’ll let me do, right? I don’t know if they would be so nice as to grant you such catharsis right away. MD: Damn… It’s Grandma though. There’ll at least be cookies, right?

I like how “The” is in a place where you can almost read it as “The Mystery Case Files”, which MCF honestly deserves at this point. 21 years! That’s old enough to drink in the US!

(MD: Hm, old fashion building and clothes? Are we having some anachronistic adventure again--) CAT. Black cat. This is Isis. (MD: Not all black cats are Isis…) Yes they are. They are to me--

*Crystal ball* SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT.

Captions: (Otherworldly scream) Why yes, yes game, thank you for describing my exact reaction to seeing that darn crystal ball. I love this self-awareness and I hope it stays.

Oh nooooo, green beam of light… (Green was the color of souls used in old Ravenhearst games, and also the type of light that the Archivist from Moths to a Flame evaporated into, iirc.)

MD: Hm, a harbinger usually means something worse is coming up. So who’s harbinger to whom I wonder? Well you could say Emma, Madame Fate, or Victor was the harbinger to Charles, and then Charles himself was a harbinger to Alistair, who apparently was harbinger to the twins, who were also harbinger to Alistair again-- MD: Yes, I know, thank you, please stop. --and then he was harbinger to a Lord Ravenhearst who we never saw again, and then we picked it up again somehow to Phineas Crown though that was much earlier and the pirate was a harbinger of himself in a sense. In fact, I guess in a metasense, you could say each MCF game is a harbinger of the next-- MD: You haven’t even gotten past the opening so PLEASE STOP.

Hm, game difficulty settings-- no Master Detective level. Ten marks off. :( MD: Okay that’s unfair. Also Hardcore is one word. MD: Hey, I’m the pyromaniac, okay? Chill! (Me at recording: pick helpful messages, pick it! PICK IT!)

OH, a CHOICE?! Oh, wait, it’s just the main game and extra content.

THEY GAVE YOU YOUR BUGGY BACK. THEY GAVE IT BAAAAACK. AAAAAHHH. MD: Interior’s a little different, but yes, I HAVE MY CAR BACK AND NOTHING CAN STOP ME NOW. MWAHAHAHA-- Queen: Something strange is happening in Darkmoor. MD: *Does a 180 and goes back home* [The end.] Just kidding. :P I love how all the names of the places we’re going to immediately screams DANGER. MD: If I turned back every time I heard a name like that, I would be a very different person today. Probably saner, less salty, and generally happier.

It took me a while to see clearly, but the bobblehead looks like default MD (the costume seems to be inspired by the Fate Carnival collectibles)! We can now safely assume that MD is either really afraid of the cold, or very, very desperately trying to hide their identity. MD: Don’t tell anyone… but the getup is like a security blanket. ...One that you wear?! MD: Shhhhhh not so loud…….

Queen: Several keywords related to your previous cases-- What keywords? What are they? MD: Ravenhearst? Souls? Pirates? Skulls? Crystal Ball? Madame Fate? Dire Grove? Death herself? Queen: I’m not revealing this mystery… it’ll give the whole plot away! ...Okay, I’m putting ten on Victor, twenty on Charlotte, thirty on Alistar, and a hundred on Charles-- MD: You CHEATER you were spoiled while GOOGLING. --actually, I should do a bingo board instead. Yeah, I’m gonna do that. (And then she spends ten minutes wasting time on that, before giving up. We are at… 2 minutes in of the playthrough. This is normal.)

Queen: We’ve detected a possible energy anomaly-- MD: I’m sorry, we have DONE WHAT?! You guys have technology for that??? MD: Where was this technology for like…. The past ten cases? I really could have used some of that before heading in! (Somewhere in the world, the Mystery Tracker detective hides his gadgets…) (Post video edit: Speaking off, he seems to have gone UFO now.)

*Radio fizzes out* MD: That’s not good. Um… UP AHEAD. MD: THAT’S REALLY NOT GOOD. DETECTIVE TAKE THE WHEEL!!!! MD: THIS BUGGY IS STILL ON MORTGAGE NO. (And the MD, the bobblehead, literally lost their head, lol.)

Gibs is definitely feeling the stylistic difference. I personally don’t think it detracts from the game right now, and if anything, it can open new avenues for MCF to explore. Also, awwww it’s not our old buggy, but hey, I like the red!

MD: Okay… agency device. Better use this to scan for creepy crawly energies. I’m so sad it’s not something you can get attached to… MD: I’m pretty damn attached to my new car, thank you very much. Well, the windshield is already broken, so I think it’s been marked as “readily expendable” emotionally. :P (Machine sort of reminds me of the old machine from Huntsville, actually… which did appear again in… Rewind?)

Wow, that royal decree is like… a permission slip from mom. XD MD: Enough to get people’s attention, but not enough for them to treat me seriously. You would think with lives at stake, they would send something more official? MD: If they did, I might just be out of a job, because half of my job seems to involve waiting for people to get in trouble. Also, marking this officer Davis down as “guy who might get into trouble later and need rescuing”.

...Okay, you know what the device could have been? A portable TV head. MD: I will PUNT that metal box so hard if they handed me one! Missed moment of creepy, honestly.

“The agency never ceases to amaze me”??? MD: I meant that in both the “wow, I can’t believe this is what you used our money on!” and the “wow, I can’t believe this is where you used our money instead of that other really important thing we could have had” sense. Never cease to amaze you in how disappointed you are at them, then. MD: After our last security breach, yes.

Solved Case Files, omg. And you carry it on your car.XD MD: The therapist said I needed to “express my outrage” more healthily than arson. And you made the WORLD NEWS???? Whatever happened to being the most secretive person in the world?! MD: Shhhhh let them keep guessing… (Also, Bobblehead isn’t our MD, it seems. A case of mistaken identity. Awww….)

Guy in purple: I didn’t do anything wrong! Hm, this guy is sus… also, we’re in the UK, confirmed? MD: ...As if the name didn't’ give it already. Also, SIR, SIR, YOU DROPPED YOUR purse……. Well I guess it’s my purse now.

Tarot cards as collectibles! More Madame Fate coming up?

Wow, that police station entrance was a time machine. We’re back in modern-day old town England! MD: ….pattern on floor, sus… Aaaaand power outage. Cue bars. Policeman trapped. Oops. MD: Number of people that needed rescuing is now one, and is exactly as I predicted.

Police: Um, can you come closer? I dunno man, you behind bars, pretty sus. Maybe you’re not a real police. Police: Oh please. We talking real? How about your prove you’re the real Master Detective-- MD: *Hands Queen’s note* Police: Right that’ll work. (We didn’t get to flash our badge?!)

Wait, you’re in a ROYAL AGENCY??? Did you.... change agencies or something??? MD: After the last game, can you really blame me if a headhunter came asking? Me: No but… you work for the CROWN???? MD: Hey, if me collecting stories for Grandma Queen wasn’t obvious enough, I don’t know what else to say.

Wow, an ACTUAL FLASH DRIVE. We’re actually in modern day society. XD Albeit one with really industrial looking computers. (Now I need to go and check if the old games used floppy disks…)

Witness 1: It’s not like she has a crystal ball! Suspect purple: Yeah, I’m a fair owner. Girl Aisling is a fortune reader. ...Madame Fate, Madame FATE, MADAME FATE. MD: Okay, maybe that cat WAS Isis after all. Guy: She likes watching ravens. MD and I, simultaneously: FUCK.

I have to say, the puzzles are quite refreshingly different from ones that have appeared in the past. Me likey.

Gibs sees victim photo on autopsy table: What a handsome devil he is! Me: *Dies laughing and fails to make comments for a while*

Oh wow, you can write coherently again! Actual journals! Clear sketches! (Actual cutscene replay???? TWENTY POINTS.) MD: Therapy can be a wonderful thing sometimes. ...Please tell me you’re talking actual therapy and not “I got to explode a ship and the pirates on it” therapy. MD: Well, that counts as therapy still, right?

Okay Madame Fate, if you have a daughter, or this is your granddaughter, please just descend from heaven and let us know right now. (...wait, didn’t Madame Fate have a son? The really big eater guy? Franco!) That said, it says the veil of time, which might be an allusion to the Dark Veil too.

Omg a FAX MACHINE.

Davis: Right, good luck heading into town to the victim’s home! MD: Yep! Thanks for being a rare competent soul in this universe! Really appreciate the help-- [Rose street.] MD: ...Is it too late to turn back? Yes, yes it is entirely too late. 8D Let’s gooooooooo! MD: *sighs*.

SHADOW IN JAMES’ HOUSE! SHADOW! MD: Probably Nigel. He was sneaking around already.

MENTION Of CAT. CAT. MD: ...are you broken? ...Yes. (It’s nearing 1 am. So Kitty commentary might be retroactive below.)

Huh, HOP has sections that unlock objects like in Dark Parables. Neat!

Well, well, well, what do we have here? Small town drama as usual. MD: The predictable disappointment of human nature. Why can’t I just have cases that deal with that? No supernatural stuff, just little town murder mysteries. Little Town Mystery Case Files, coming to a store near you soon! (I’ll be honest, Grandma, I would play that once, just to have MD be completely paranoid over nothing actually supernatural.)

Santa Claus Beard Guy: I hope I didn’t scare you. MD: I’ve had undead grip me through the window. A little shadow doesn’t spook me. A family whose last name begins with a D though rattles them. MD: Please don’t give away my weaknesses so quickly...

Santa Guy: So the cat kicked my ass. Can you get me some medicine? MD: Sure thing. BTW, where is this cat, and how can I recruit it to kick the asses of my enemies?

Eeeeehhhh complex door puzzles are back! Except they are now complex cupboard puzzles.

WOOOOOOOOOW that’s a LYNX if I ever saw one! MD: Hey, remember how I say I’m not good with animals? Too bad, grab the pet carrier, you’ll need it. MD: ...please don’t scratch me. Cat: *Roars* MD: *flips shit, runs and hides*

James has visited the Museum of Mysteries… And what’s with the MCF crest in his diary??? MD: Wait… Allison? ALLISON THE REPORTER??? Omg, James is her BROTHER. THEY HAVE THE SAME LAST TIME EVEN OMG. MD: ……….. I’m NOT going to be the deliverer of this bad news. Hey MD, does that curse that surrounds people associated with you extend to their families? MD: Thank you for going where my brain didn’t want to, now kindly proceed no further. Just morbidly wondering…...

MD: They… they visited all the places that my cases took place. EVEN A HOUSE I REPORTED BURNED DOWN AND EXPLODED. AND THEN CAMPED OUT IN DIRE GROVE. MY GODS ALMIGHTY YOU TWO!!!! ...These siblings don’t have a lot of self-preservation sense, huh? MD: There are some things that should NOT run in the family. This is one of them. (I’ll be honest. Just… HOW can the MD process this kind of guilt??? Kudos to you, Grandma Studios. This is possibly the most evil story choice ever, and you went there. Slow, claps. Seriously. That said there is a small plothole here with James saying he was there when MD rescued Allison. I think that might be a translation/grammar error though.)

Journal: Oh btw John worked on the Ravenhearst manor restoration. MD: *grabs John* WHY. WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO ME AND TO THE WORLD?! John: Um….. it was work? MD: SOME PLACES ARE BETTER OFF GONE. Hey, look on the bright side. You can burn it down again as therapy! John: Oh btw, I made the elaborate locks-- MD: *Begins to strangle John* NO HOMICIDES MASTER DETECTIVE! You investigate them, not commit them! MD: TELL ME THAT AFTER I’M DONE.

MD: Okay, John. Let me be clear on one thing. You are now number one sus on my list of “The person that’s gonna betray me in the end” right now, and probably staying there. If you turn out to be one of the Dalimars or their crony in disguise, I will END YOU. Are we clear? John: ………… MD: What? John: You’re more terrifying than James’ cat--

*Another prevention of homicide later…* MD: Alright, fine. Containers, opened. Toy, fixed. “Cat”, got. Now take it and get out. John: Thanks, here is the final piece to that closet door that I totally have been keeping from you this whole time. ….Seriously???? MD: ….Like I said, top of my shitlist. *Reads the closet puzzle poem* On second thought GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE I HAVE QUESTIONS!

James is the greatest dork. He locked his special diary entries with a lock. I’m so sad we didn’t get to meet him in person. Though that said... MD: My gods, some common sense is really missing from this family’s mind. Seeds from the carnival?! A cube from probably dire grove??? How does it feel knowing you contributed indirectly to his demise? 8D MD: ...It’s like seeing someone win the Darwin award and feeling bad that you are the one handing the trophy to them.

Davis: Oh hey, a cassette? Let me go and get the camera for it. We’ll meet later! MD: Wait a second, you’re gonna end up dead if you do that! Davis: No, I’m gonna be fine! Here’s a ticket to the night market! Have fun! MD: …… ...More Darwin award nominations? MD: No. Awww….

Marge: Oh hi detective! Thank you for saving me and my daughter so many years ago! MD: …. Who are you again? *Goes to google* Oh, she’s that woman from Reverant’s Hunt…. MD: Ah, the gossip hen. My gods what’s with this town and its inhabitants… It’s like all the people connected to you which fate has yet to kill are all showing up again for a chance of going to the afterlife! 8Db MD: That would be the worst lottery ever. All in the life of being Master Detective’s friend! Forecast for percent of death: high! MD: *curls up in a corner to be depressed*

Nigel: What do you want? MD: Here are your seeds. Nigel: Okay I’m gone! MD: Right, now Aisling-- WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING. Crow: Caw-caw! MD: You, you’re not Crowlister, but if you are responsible, I will make you one very bald bird.

Okay, soooooo what do we do? MD: Removed what the device can. Guess we’re down to brewing this… tea... ...I think you need this tea more than her, honestly.

“I expect these MCF references now.” XD I think the 4th wall has just been shattered into oblivion.

Aisling: I see death all around you Master Detective! MD: Thank you for stating the obvious that has been made abundantly clear by the past hour and a half of plot. Davis: Hey waddap? MD: ….*breaks down sobbing* YOU’RE STILL ALIVE THANK GOODNESS! *hugs Davis* Davis: Um… what’s going… anyway, you should look at the video.

MD: Nigel! This video here suggests something. Want to talk before I make you? Nigel: This proves nothing! Now go away, I have preparations to-- Noooooooooo! *Nigel is swallowed by the earth* ……...MD? MD: NOT IT. WASN’T ME. DEFINITELY NOT ME! You saw that right, Davis? Davis: Oh no, he’s dead! Guess we’ll need to exhume him. MD: Now hold on, that reaction is just WAAAAAY TO BLAND.

(Watched a little bit ahead. I have some theories on who Aisling might be, since Gib’s thumbnail does appear to hint at it. We’ll see where it goes!)

(Aaaaand I was right!)

[Here ends entry one. Part two is going to be even more retroactive...]

[nathjonesey-75]

2021 in Electronic Music: A New Hope?

A long time ago in a galaxy far away…there was the nineties system. In that system, folk came together in happiness to celebrate together at places called nightclubs, where DJ masters would enthral, guide and entertain the folk by composing and conducting a range of sounds. The people would dance throughout the time of the stars, until the great star would rise – and folk would rest. Or they would fly to another dimension and be led by other masters to more happiness.

                                                ____________________

 It all sounds like a fairy-tale, doesn’t it? The world which was once a reality feels like it needs Jedi-style leaders to save it from the abyss, otherwise known as traditionalist business hell. The abyss which sees concrete futures made without character, without expression, art or creativity – where culture could be as one-dimensional as the spurious garbage emanating from the mouths of those supposedly in charge of moving nations to brighter futures.

 Also, without too much finger-pointing, 2020 in itself has been like a meteor which has hit the creative world like an alien rock with no direction. Furthermore, without conspiracy theorising (about custom-made laboratory viruses in secretive lands – oops, got sucked in there) and observing the hard, indigestive facts of October 2020 – where no end date is presentable as to when the uninvited virus will be vanquished. Can we either look to the future with hope for electronic – and indeed, all live music? Or are we to fight the good fight for as long as we can, to abate the ‘dark side of the force’ in corporate-led governments and cold business?

 During the damaged and lost eighties – socially and politically – times were hard unless you were a yuppie whose “enterprise” in the way of sole trading was rewarded on the stock exchange. Yet, what came from that mass hardship for everyone else – was what made us not only dream – but live out our dreams. Make dreams for others.

 Music was in the post-punk, electro-pop era. Hip-hop was sky-rocketing across the world, from New York – across the USA and over to every Western nation. As was House Music. As was Techno. The DIY ideal which once applied to Punk Rock in the mid-to late seventies now had been adopted by DJs. Is that a pair of Technics 1210s? Is that a Roland synthesizer? Ok, let’s do something.

 As Resident Advisor’s mini-documentary “How Punk Shaped Electronic Music” - about the two genres’ correlations – it says

      “The most radical part of it was an idea – if you want to make music, You don’t need a big record deal; a big, fancy studio – or even much musical talent. You just need the sheer force of will - to get out there and do it.”

This was never more prevalent than in both Chicago, where House Music was developed – and in Detroit, where technology’s advances in electronic devices saw Techno appear in the latter part of the decade. Still, the concept of not having to possess “much musical talent” was not necessarily true when it applied to some of the most celebrated electronic musical doctors. Larry Heard played several musical instruments from a young age. Underworld played instruments even before forming their first band, Screen Gemz – back in 1975. Sasha was a classically-trained pianist before ever seeing a DJ. I could go on.

So, in light of recent debates as to whether these performers, their industries and followings are “viable” for financial support during this degraded and destructive year  – I don’t need to revisit the figures of economic value for which our industry produces. As for The Stranglers’ Hugh Cornwell interview on Good Morning Britain on October the 9th – he said, “House Music is the worst song writing….there isn’t any song writing skills in House Music, for me.” Regardless of his own successes in the late seventies and early eighties – this is as moot a point to be found, as would be for anyone over sixty-five who have never understood – or tried to understand electronic music. Except by now, you must have been self-isolating from the wider world out there, where times have moved on from only guitars in song writing.

   Larry Levan was instrumental in writing music for Grace Jones, while The Stranglers were at their peak of popularity. Why did Madonna recruit both Sasha and Paul Oakenfold to help compose her tracks over twenty years ago? Why did Danny Boyle curate the 2012 Olympic Games opening ceremony with the musical aid of Rick Smith from Underworld? Why did Kendrick Lamar win awards for tracks with lyrics which read; 

"Shit on anybody, I'm a rappin' Porta-Potty/And I probably gotta dump right now". 

Hardly poetry. You could throw mud and hit anything if it’s about “bad” music nowadays. Ironically, John Holmstrom, founding editor of Punk magazine described that genre as "rock and roll by people who didn't have very many skills as musicians but still felt the need to express themselves through music". Except Punk Rock lives on in this anthem-led society of 2020. 

While Cornwell’s empty shot at House Music was filmed seemingly at home in West London, I would urge him to use his ideal location and visit the Design Museum in Kensington, where the Electronic Music exhibition is held until February 2021. The opinion of lack of skills required in writing songs – would surely be under further threat at the display of Jeff Mills’ instrument engineering, or Aphex Twin’s multi-level track and video choreography. The words “out of touch” are, I feel – valid in this case. Granted, every genre has producers who don’t try hard but write cheap, catchy songs – think of all the one-hit-wonders in the seventies and eighties. “Shaddap You Face”, “Star Trekkin”, “Puppy Love”…

These were songs made for either fun, children’s television, or for undisclosed reasons by each composer – suffice to say that none involved House Music. Yet over thirty-five years of House Music walking in unison with the rise of technology and evolution of nightclubs and festivals – has meant that all instruments and now software are taught and developed at schools, colleges and universities across the world. I would be highly confident of being able to write a cheesy, tacky and bad track in one day – whether I wanted the financial profit from it or not – would be a matter for my bank balance after 2020 (wink-wink, nudge-nudge…)

For future reference, with mists of all colours being spread across the musical galaxy as we enter the last two months of what has been an abysmal anomaly year, the anger generated by punk was closed down quickly by the governments of the late seventies. It was beyond saving as a regular, viable movement by the time the eighties commenced. Its direct anti-establishment nature would have made sure of that, were it in the situation we now face. 

But that did not stop its musicians from carrying on making music. Post-punk continued its energy and old regime defiance through bands inspired by what came before. Bands such as New Order, Public Image Limited, Talking Heads and The Fall - all had messages and attitudes carried from previous years. Genres were reinvented and music adapted. Moving into the unknown may be unclear and unnerving right now. Yet, fighting for what we can recreate should be a binding motive for DJs, promoters, clubbers, electronic artists and everyone involved in our scene. 

From recently looking back at a haul of 1990s editions of Mixmag and Ministry magazines I had stowed away, it’s clear we had it “damn good” at that time. We may – and highly likely never will return to that level of hedonism, heights of being spoilt rotten for wealth of music heard for the first time, the talent and progress of the producers guiding us through, skills of DJs and grandiosity and grunginess of clubs which we visited. We do, however, have these imprints on our brains and know what works. Living solely from memories is not what I am advocating – using memories and what we have today, as a global community to post flagposts of how the “underground will live forever” – in believing our clubs can be reopened and that celebrating our own culture at future parties, is worth the time spent in doing so. Do it yourself can work, as was ever the case. 

[theladylovingcrow]

Skin On Skin, Hearts Laid Bare (Sanny)

Ch.1 Autumnal Camping is the Perfect Oppurtunity for Snuggles

Warnings/Tags: camping, sharing a tent, sharing a sleeping bag, sharing a bed, cuddling, cuddling for warmth, flirting, a bit dialogue heavy like usual, no sex yet

Length: about 1650

Ch. 1 Summary: It's survival 101 - body heat is the best way to keep warm. And skin on skin is the best way to generate that body heat.

It is an unusually cold night on a camping trip: Sam and Danny need to heat up if they want to go to sleep and still have toes in the morning.

Author's Notes: Because I plan on each chapter being different, I will give each it's own section of tags/warnings/summaries/notes.

I absolutely love the sensation of skin on skin contact, not even in a sexual way - just as a primal, intimate, platonic form of human connection. It grounds me, and I'd like to think it grounds them too, though honestly I couldn't resist myself and I DID make this turn sexual. Oops (not)

Absolutely inspired by Luna65 and her lovely work, and everyone else who writes Greta Fiction. I love this community and all that it puts out

@satans-helper here dear, I hope you enjoy it if you haven't read already!

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

"Get your ass inside, Wagner, stop fucking around before you catch pneumonia, " Sam yelled, voice carrying harsh through the frigid, crackling air.

Danny huffed out a breath, a cloud of vapor dissipating from his mouth.

"Nearly done, Sam-a," he called, throwing his voice over his shoulder so it would carry towards the tent. "Just need to finish locking away the beer and fishing stuff."

"What, afraid the 'coons are gonna steal our tackle?" Sam snorted.

"No, but the neighbors might. Rowdy Rudy is here again."

"Oh god, not that asshole. When did he even arrive?"

"Right before you got in here," Danny said, finally crawling into the tent after finishing cleaning up and taking his boots off. "You probably didn't notice that monstrosity of a truck pull up in your drunken haze, but I sure did."

"Man, he's so annoying. Always sleazing around looking for alcohol to mooch, or for someone to listen to his god-awful stories."

Danny nodded in agreement. Rowdy Rudy was rude as hell, crude, lewd, smellier than a drunk skunk and always trying to butt into things in the hopes of getting some free drugs. And, he always seemed to come around about the same time as the boys went camping and disappear right before they noticed all of their missing stuff.

"Also, hey, I'm not completely drunk! I just wanted to stay warm. And get some of that Mullberry wine before Josh gets back and drinks it all," Sam added on, sipping from the bottle.

"Okay, but honestly, who brings *Mullberry wine* on a camping trip?" Danny asked, completely perplexed as to why Josh insisted on it. Wine was not a camping alcohol.

"I'm not sure, but I don't really care. This stuff is fucking delicious!"

"Okay, well don't drink it all or Joshie will be pissed at you. He seemed to want it for something."

"Like what?" Sam pondered, handing the bottle over so Danny could try it. "Is he trying to woo someone? Who? We're in the middle of the fucking woods!"

"Maybe he's trying to get it on with a tree, he seems to really love them!" Danny cracked.

Sam laughed.

"I don't know, but you're right, this is really good."

Sam nodded, taking a final swig of the now mostly empty bottle and setting it aside. Whoops. Well, Josh shouldn't have left it there.

"Hey, what do you think J and J are doing right now? Can't believe they'd wanna get away from us," Sam said, belching loudly.

"Well, Joshie is probably trying to photograph the local nightlife," Sam snorted, "and Jake's definitely getting drunk, if he didn't already drain his supply. I wonder how he'll like the hike back when he's got a killer hangover."

Sam unzipped one side of the sleeping bag and scooted over so that Danny could crawl inside. The other pulled it shut again, switching off the battery powered lantern and trying to get comfortable.

"I'm sure he brought enough to drowm a small circus, he won't run out. Where did they even go, again?" Sam asked.

"I've never been there myself, but there's supposed to be a cliff a few miles from here with an amazing view of the valley we passed on the drive up. I'm pretty sure that they took one of the trails starting on the other side of the river, maybe a quarter mile down from where we were today, up to the main road, and then fron there they hiked alongside it until they got to the base of the hill half of the cliff, then they could just climb up it. I heard Joshie talking about it before they left."

"We should have made them leave a map of where they were going. I know they're both experienced hikers, but I'd hate for them to get stuck or hurt somehow and have us take a long time to get there because we don't know where they are," Sam said.

They both got quiet, slightly worried.

"I think they'll be okay," Danny said after a minute. "Didn't they used to come up here for boyscouts?"

Sam nodded. Danny could barely see him in the inky darkness, he felt the movement and heard the rustling of the sleeping bag more than saw it.

"Then they know where they are, and Jake said it's not a particularly dangerous hike unless he gets so drunk he falls off the cliff. And you know Josh would never let that happen. We helped them pack their food back at the house, and all of their gear is sound; the only problem I can think of is the chill, but even then if they cuddle they should be fine for one night."

Sam shivered at the mention of the temperature and subtly wormed a bit closer to Danny to try and gain some body heat. Autumnal camping was fun as hell and incredibly beautiful out in the Michigan woods, but it was unusually cold for this time of year. Danny took notice and turned his body a bit closer to Sam as well, sharing some heat from the front though a bit of space remained in between them.

"Dude, what the fuck is up with the weather? I swear it's never gotten this cold this early. I wouldn't be surprised to wake up to some fucking snow tomorrow," Danny said. He tentatively reached out an arm and Sam eagerly got underneath it, snuggling right up to him.

"Climate change. And I hope it doesn't, we could get stuck on the roads, not to mention Jake and Josh would have to hike back in it. I don't think we have the snow tires on yet."

"What kind of Michigonian are you?"

"A stupid one."

Danny smiled, shaking his head and holding onto Sam tightly now. It seemed like, even with the full on cuddles and fleece lined sleeping bag, they couldn't get warm enough.

"Mother*fuck* it is cold. Wanna survival 101 it?" Danny asked.

"Now who's wooing who?" Sam cajoled, but he was *so* down for some skin on skin if it meant he could get warmer.

Danny unzipped the sleeping bag again and they sat up, shivering as their protective cacoon was removed. They both pulled off their hoodies, leaving Sam in a long sleeved thermal and Danny in his Marley tee. Wiggling around, Danny tried to get his jeans off but it was a serious struggle.

Sam bit his lip and giggled, fumbling under the covers for Danny's hips so he could help them get back in quicker.

Danny stiffened a bit when Sam's cold fingers found his midsection, sliding down until they reached the waistband of his jeans and popped the button.

"Why the hell are you wearing jeans in bed? You better not have gotten any dirt in here," Sam scolded.

He unzipped Danny, hands brushing over his package and pulling the denim off of his hips. They worked together to rid Danny of his pants, then Danny returned the favor with Sam's sweats. It was unneeded, but neither of them said anything about that.

"I was cold! And I didn't want to take them off to change," Danny responded after they had enclosed themselves in the bedding again.

"Well that was stupid. It wouldn't have taken more than half a minute, and you've taken them off now, anyways."

Sam wrapped his arms around Danny's waist and rubbed their legs together, relishing in the warm friction of skin and hair. His hands crept up the back of Danny's shirt, settling in the middle of his back where they could be heated up by skin on one side and fabric on the other.

Danny sighed, burying his cold nose in Sam's bed of hair. He worked one arm under Sam's neck to cradle his head and laid the other on his side, bunching it in the cotton of his shirt and rubbing it back and forth, trying to work some warmth into his freezing fingers.

"This is kinda nice, now," Sam whispered. His lips brushed Danny's throat, and his best friend could feel how soft they were, liberal and frequent applications of chapstick preventing cracking despite the weather.

"Yeah," he agreed, just as quiet.

It was starting to heat up in the sleeping bag, body heat finally taking control in their micro climate of polyester bedding and male pheromones. Sam was honestly in heaven, he hadn't been this warm and comfortable in months. And he was sleeping on the ground in 34 degree weather.

A wave of exhaustion washed over Danny, the long day finally catching up to him. He snuggled closer to Sam, pressing those bodies together until not even a blade of grass would have been able to come up between them.

He smirked tiredly when Sam purred like a cat, the reaction to his hand on Sam's side coming to rest underneath his short, gently stroking the skin there. It was soft and fiery warm, finally, Sam's ribs gentle hills across the landscape of his torso.

Outside the tent, somewhere off to the to the left, across the river, along the road and on top of a hill, the twins were in a similar position. Josh held his warm brother close while they shared Jake's whiskey, sleeping bags propped against a sturdy, incredibly broad tree.

In the morning, the twins would awake early to a most glorious sunset over the edge of the cliff. Danny and Sam would wake up entwined, warm and well rested. They'd be slow to rise out of their blankets, relishing in a few more minutes of quiet, intimate connection. No words were spoken; none needed; just the mental conversationa of an appreciation of nature, and the extreme luck that allowed them to be together exactly as they were designed to be.

All was at peace with the world. That is, until the boys decided to go fishing and all of their poles were missing, as was Rowdy Rudy's monster truck.

[ashleyspinelliburnbook]

S1E7: I Will Kick No More Forever/The Kid Came Back

It was bound to happen eventually, but these two were...not as good as the others? I don’t know, y’all. I didn’t feel fulfilled or inspired watching this pair of episodes. But I tried...for one of them, anyway.

I Will Kick No More Forever

Well, okay, there was one inspiring thing. Gretchen and Gus doing commentary for the kickball games made me think they should probably do a podcast together. So here’s a sports podcast that happens to be about the plot of this episode!

(I’m just going to write this all at once and see what happens. I have only ever written TV scripts, so I’m just winging it. Forgive me.)

GRETCHEN: I’m Gretchen Grundler.

GUS: And I’m Gus Griswald.

GRETCHEN: And this is “I am in Sports.”

[theme music]

[theme music fades]

[nat sound: kickball noises]

GRETCHEN: Kickball. Or as it’s known in most of Canada, “soccer baseball.” A sport of humble origins, and today, one of the most popular recess games in the United States.

GUS: You might not know all the names of some of the great kickballers in the storied history of the sport, but today, we’d like to introduce you to one in particular who took the playground by storm.

[nat sound fades]

ANNOUNCER (SOT): “Here comes Vince ‘The Foot’ LaSalle!”

ANNOUNCER 2 (SOT): “Kicks lefty, throws righty...”

ANNOUNCER 3 (SOT): “And that ball’s not coming back! A home run!”

ANNOUNCER 4 (SOT): “The undisputed, single greatest kicker that Third Street School has ever seen.”

GRETCHEN: Vince LaSalle. A fourth-grader in name only, he made everyone from kindergarteners to sixth-graders quiver in their kickball shoes whenever he stepped up to the plate.

GUS: His trajectory was storied. He was the only known kindergartener in Third Street School history to be invited to play with the first-grade kickball team, and by second grade, he was challenging sixth-graders to play.

GRETCHEN: This confidence was impressive. Inspiring, even. But it wasn’t meant to last.

VINCE (SOT): “Okay, everyone! Outfield in!”

GRETCHEN: It was a regular Tuesday, bottom of the ninth inning. Recess would be over in about two minutes. Ashley Q. was at the plate, fresh off a phone call, and Vince made the call to bring the outfield in.

GUS: It would be the last time anyone on the playground would trust him for a long time.

ANNOUNCER 5 (SOT): “That ball is up! And up! And up! Good golly, that ball is gone! It’s out of this world! Ashley Q., ladies and gentlemen!”

- SOT -

VINCE (on phone): “It was...horrible.”

GUS: “Horrible?”

VINCE: “When you make a call like that, bringing the outfield in, bringing everyone in, you don’t...that’s not what’s supposed to happen.”

GUS: “What is supposed to happen?”

VINCE: “Well, the opposite of that.”

- END SOT -

GRETCHEN: The next day, Third Street School received a long distance call — very long-distance. This call was from a busy street in Beijing, China.

PRINCIPAL PRICKLY (SOT, on phone): “They said they found our ball. I was like, what? What ball? And the man on the phone explained, you know, your ball. It says your school’s name right here.”

GRETCHEN: Ashley Q. had recorded the longest kick the school had ever seen. And Vince? Well, he didn’t take it so well.

- SOT -

VINCE (on phone): “I just started whiffing.”

GUS: “Whiffing?”

VINCE: “Everything. Just, missing everything. The next game, you know, the ball would be rolled to me just like usual. Kicked it right back into the pitcher’s hands. Kicked it foul. Missed it entirely.”

GUS: “What about after that game?”

VINCE: [sighs] “You know what’s worse than being picked last?”

GUS: “Not really. I’m picked last a lot.”

VINCE: “Have you ever not been picked at all?”

GUS: “Wow, no. How did that make you feel?”

VINCE: [laughs] “Well, after that, I left the sport.”

- END SOT -

[brooding music]

VINCE (SOT): “I am announcing my retirement from kickball. I will kick no more, forever.”

[brooding music fades]

GRETCHEN: Vince was distraught. Even though he was sure in his decision to leave the sport he loved, he didn’t take the transition well.

GUS: We visited him after school one day — a day he’d missed, we weren’t sure why — and found him in front of the TV, drinking root beer and eating doughnuts. It wasn’t pretty.

GRETCHEN: He kept repeating something, we didn’t know what at first. We tried to ask him to speak more slowly, articulate, enunciate. And then Gus finally figured it out.

GUS: “I was outkicked by an Ashley.” Over and over again. Just...gut punch.

[SFX - EXPLOSION]

- SOT -

GRETCHEN: “So we are...in my bedroom right now. Me, Gus, TJ, everyone. And I just showed them [crash in background] — Guys, what was that?”

TJ: “Sorry. Lost control of the Flubber again.”

GRETCHEN: “Glorp. It’s called glorp.”

TJ: “Yeah, whatever it is, it’s awesome. This should do the trick.”

- END SOT -

GUS: It was supposed to be a science fair project, right?

GRETCHEN: Yes, it was one of my attempts to invent a substance to replace liquid soap. But what I got instead was a bouncy...well...glorp.

GUS: And remind me what the plan was?

GRETCHEN: The plan was to create a diversion and switch out the kickball with the glorp ball. It’s much easier to kick, and it goes a lot farther. We just wanted to give Vince his confidence back, even if we had to bend the truth a little to do it.

GUS: My job was to switch the ball after Mikey and TJ created the diversion, from the kickball to the glorp ball.

[spy music]

- SOT -

MIKEY: “My foot! My foot!”

TJ: “Mikey! Are you okay? Can you play?”

MIKEY: “No! But if I don’t play, you’ll have to forfeit!”

TJ: “I’m sure there’s someone else we can use.”

- END SOT -

[spy music fade]

GRETCHEN: [laughing] Okay, it was a bad plan. It was not the best plan. But it worked.

ANNOUNCER 6 (SOT): “What’s this? Vince LaSalle, disgraced kickballer, appears to be coming out of retirement to replace the injured Mikey!”

TJ (SOT, on phone): “I was just trying to tell him, like, ‘If you don’t kick, we’ll lose the game,’ and he goes, ‘Yeah, well, get used to it.’ And I go, ‘Well, the only thing that makes you a loser is not trying.’ And it did the trick.”

ANNOUNCER 6 (SOT, CONT.): “He’s kicking righty today, maybe a revamped routine to make this try at his career go a little better, and...Oh my! Oh my word! That ball is gone! It’s in the stratosphere! It’s past the stratosphere! Where is that ball! No one knows, but Vince LaSalle has done it! He’s won the game!”

GRETCHEN: Here’s the thing. We all felt incredibly guilty after the fact. Because it was just the glorp ball. It wasn’t Vince. And still, we couldn’t tell him. But then it turned out we didn’t have to tell him.

GUS: I remember this moment so well. I was running back from the bathroom, wondering why the game was over.

GRETCHEN: And we were wondering why you were out of breath. You weren’t the one who had just kicked the ball into parts unknown. But then we learned the reason was...

GUS: I didn’t make the switch. I went to the bathroom, left the glorp ball outside, and when I came back, it was gone.

GRETCHEN: Vince had done it all on his own. His confidence was real.

[SOT - “Vince! Vince! Vince!”]

GRETCHEN: The world’s greatest kickballer was back in business.

[fade SOT]

[theme music]

- SOT -

[phone rings]

PRINCIPAL PRICKLY: “Hello?”

HAROLD STEVENS: “Hey, Principal Prickly, this is Harold Stevens at NASA. Look, I just wanted to reach out and say we won’t be charging you for the damage because this seems like a once-in-a-lifetime thing.”

PRICKLY: “Excuse me? Damage? What did those kids get up to this time?”

STEVENS: “Oh, well, the kickball dent on the space shuttle. It won’t be a problem.”

PRICKLY: “What?”

[click]

- END SOT -

[theme music fades]

Takeaway: I need a Gus and Gretchen podcast YESTERDAY.

The Kid Came Back

Look, everyone. The previous recap was so long, and I don’t want to overshadow it by going too deep into this one. This episode was just...a baby thriller, you know what I mean? All the elements of a creepy story tailor-made for kids, but absolutely no payoff. It was an insult, frankly.

In short, a kid no one has seen before starts following the gang around, and bad things start happening to them. They decide it’s because of the kid, so they tell him to buzz off, and he starts crying. The gang’s takeaway is that, oops, our bad luck wasn’t caused by this kid! And so they go apologize, and then they learn he has other friends anyway. The lesson is not to tell kids to buzz off...or so we thought, until another mysterious girl shows up at the very end and the gang runs away from her immediately so as to not engage. We never learn what’s causing their bad luck.

Just...skip this one. I hope the next one is better and that we’re not rolling down an infinitely long hill. Who haven’t we checked in with in a while? Have we had a TJ-centered episode yet? I’d be fine with that.

Takeaway: I need to tighten up my scriptwriting so I don’t run out of steam before even getting the chance to make fun of a bad episode, lol.

[sundaynightnovels]

chinese mythology AU: the moon rabbit

so @insearchof-solace​ gave me this prompt a while back and i was immediately inspired and.... wrote nothing BUT i kept wanting to write it (that’s fair enough, no????) && now that i’m finally up to writing it, my word doc is acting up on me and i was ready to throw in the towel but i was like

well. i write a whole bunch and don’t edit my work anyway, so how about i try something different and write it right now, spontaneously, on this post here? are you nervous? i’m rebellious and low on energy and don’t have enough mind to be nervous  so yea, i’m gonna give it a go. so there’s no like introductory post on how long it’s gonna be or what is it about or how vastly different it is from the actual mythology (very different, probably) like always, this is an AU of my wip like all things out of season, i.e. using its characters and whatnot. so yea. a little background: the moon rabbit is, well, a rabbit. who lives on the moon. it’s usually like seen pounding something with a mortar and pestle that the chinese (the moon rabbit exists in a lot of other asian mythology but i’m using the chinese one for this because, well. it’s a chinese au piece) assumes is the elixir of life, and is usually portrayed as being a companion of chang’e, the moon goddess. but who knows? will there be a companion here?? i don’t know.  what i do know is that i’ll be personifying the moon rabbit, so yea. i won’t be describing an actual rabbit with rabbit limbs and features per se here, but something rather human. here it goes: edit: after writing, it seems a lil philosophical and kinda gloomy. not my usual light-hearted thing, so be warned!

The moon is round tonight. Well, that’s no different from usual -- it is round every night, there’s no way it can suddenly change its shape beneath his feet, but well. He supposes, for the mortals down there, the moon is round tonight. Below him, flickering lights dance like waves cascading over one another; they sputter and glow within their paper walls, orange and red and yellow and even purple. Laughter weaves its way between hooked arms and raucous chatter, explodes as someone butchers a poetry recital and recedes when a performance begins. He sits there, on the edge. The stone is cool in his grip, familiar and worn; it sets a rhythm alongside the pounding beats and traditional tunes of the music below. Each time, a push and a twist, a push and a twist.  By the time applause breaks out, the herbs have already been ground to dust. He’s used to the smell; they prick at his nostrils and lingers in the air, but his nose always aches and the air around him is always heavy anyway. He’s used to it. Sometimes he wonders. Of course he does, he’s had more than enough time, so much that he doesn’t care to notice about the flow of the ages, passing so quickly beneath his feet that if he merely blinks, he thinks he might miss civilisation’s end.  Not that it matters to him, of course. Eras come and go, mortals live and perish. And all that eventually remains are the ghosts of memories that have come to pass.  Echoes, rather -- not ghosts. Ghosts are too corporeal, nearly substantial in their remembrance. And memories are fickle beings. They shift and change with age and perspective, warp with desires and denials; the more someone strives to recollect, the more they rebuild and break down the past, the less firm the foundation. The less solid the form. What’s left is merely an echo, a lingering afterthought. Something not as significant, yet remains hovering in the atmosphere like a miasma suspended over a grave -- doomed to haunt for all of eternity. Mortals are all chased by their echoes. And he wonders, of course, what his might be. If he were to be mortal. But of course, he isn’t. And that is a useless thought to contemplate on, for something that he cannot and will not be. He keeps pounding away. His moon is always round, after all. - The smoke is thick, almost viscous somehow. It snakes up into the air, wiggling and struggling, fighting to get out. It happens, occasionally. Though perhaps that might not be the best descriptor. Occasionally to him takes place over a rather large span of time, anyway. It doesn’t matter. The mortals move away, backs resolutely turned. Some are crying. Some press their palms tight and hold them close to their hearts, letting hushed words slip into open air. Others, younger ones, so tiny he can barely see them from where he sits, look confused.  It’s bright again, but not like before. The flames are ravenous and fierce, hungry and unrelenting; they chase after the paper offerings and tear apart the paper house, eating and swallowing till there’s nothing left. The smoke dies down; it’s a little easier to breathe. He thinks.  He doesn’t quite know. A physical release might not be quite the same as an emotional one.  What he does understand, though, is that everything comes back to dust. You bring nothing with you when you’re brought to life, and you carry nothing away in your death. It is a cycle. It will eventually happen again, he doesn’t know why they grieve. He is no expert, of course. He continues to pound away at the mixture for an immortality elixir. - She’s here today. The moon is a large place, and they don’t often cross paths. He feels like it’s been eons since he’s last spoken. It might have been. She doesn’t speak. She sits at the edge and peers down. Though there can be no sign of age on the smooth lines of her face, she somehow looks weathered. Old and beaten. Tired, from an eternity of existence.

He clears his throat; it is resounding in the silence. “Hi.” “Hi,” she replies.  She used to be mortal. She used to love and be loved. But it’s been ages.  There’s no one there for her now. He sits beside her and doesn’t speak, just pushes the bottle towards her and looks at his hands.  The skin is peeling and his palms are bruised. He is immortal, yet still they are bruised. It is an odd spectacle. He curls his fingers around them and squeezes. He stares at her and he wonders. If she’s a beautiful immortal worshiped by all and he’s her humble companion praised in textbooks.  Or maybe she’s an idol for virtue and he’s one for diligence and utility.  In reality though, he thinks it might be something else instead. That she’s a mortal stuck in a cage and that he’s her captor. Or that they are both trapped in a never-ending circle that chases after itself, sitting on the edge and trying to break the trajectory. Maybe it’s better not to think at all. After all, the moon will always be round. She will always be told in stories, celebrated in festivals. And he will always be here, pounding away for all of eternity.  Memories will live on forever, anyway -- even if they are merely echoes. Especially if they are merely echoes.  They are meant to live forever.

---------------------- okay! i don’t know why this ended up so depressing. like i said, i really didn’t plan anything. and i don’t know what this means. maybe it’s a deliberation on immortality VS mortality and how hou yi has maybe got the right idea the whole time? (okay, explanations about certain myths below.) or maybe something about myths being glorified and immortalised and wondering how that might go about in actual reality. or maybe that people should be given decisions about their own lives and not forced into a routine by fate i don’t know okay don’t question me i don’t think when i’m writing it also kinda, sort of, reflects a little about the beginning of my wip?  alright so a few things:

the moon rabbit is.... dun dun dun!! i’m sure some of y’all have guessed! it’s shou!! (that’s why it kinda reflects the beginning of my wip a little bit)

and the female is obviously... dun dun dun! chang’e!!! and she is!!!! well, this might be a little harder to guess but it also does reflect a little bit of her past / backstory in the companion novel. anyway!! it is... zhen!!

basic background on the mythology of chang’e: she is married to a man named hou yi, and back then there were like, 10 suns on earth and everyone was suffering because it was hella hot and hou yi, being a great man and a saviour of the broken (oops, mcr reference), he shot down 9 out of 10 of the suns. he was rewarded with an elixir of immortality, but he didn’t want to take it because he wanted to be with his wife. anyway something happened, bla bla bla, in order to protect the elixir from some bad guys, chang’e downed it herself and became immortal, and she decided to live in a place where she’d be closest to her husband -- which was incidentally the moon. and mid-autumn celebration is kinda celebrated for her too. okay, it also celebrates a bunch of other stuff, but for chang’e as well!

the first part he’s watching the mid-autumn festival celebrations, traditionally celebrated with people holding a bunch of lanterns on the 15th day of the 8th lunar month, which is when there is a full moon (just fyi, the 15th day of all the lunar months tend to have a full moon)

the second part he’s watching a funeral procession (kinda more like a buddhist one, where you burn joss paper and paper ingots and paper houses etc.) not really in detail but yea

the phrase that i used ‘In life you carry nothing, and in death you bring nothing’ comes from this actual chinese thing that you say ‘生不带来 死不带去’ which means the same thing

ALRIGHT. uhh. hope y’all enjoyed?? tagging my tag list @cabaretofwords​ @inked-waves​ @latechickadee​ @kidsarentallwrite​ @insearchof-solace​ @kaigods​ @inkpot-dreamer​ @pen-for-sword​ @thedreamsofthesky​ @cheap-pins​

as usual y’all are free to drop me prompts any time alright! 

[oveliagirlhaditright]

So... I’m a few days late for this, and I apologize. I was busy making birthday presents for the best friend and lost track of time.

And if people can’t use this because it’s late, they of course don’t have to. But...

This is what KH means to me... My thank you to the KH team...

I would have loved to write something for them, but I don’t know if they’d be big on getting fanfiction for their own work. I also could have done a digital manipulation or gmv for them... But IDK. Maybe them getting their own work back to them in a fan-edited way wouldn’t seem good at all? Because you didn’t do most of the work there. They did. You just edited it. And maybe you even edited in a way they wouldn’t approve of, and they see your work as copyright infringement?

So that leaves drawing, but I’m not the best drawer yet...

So screw it. I’m just going to write an essay about what this series has meant to me, the last seventeen years.

(Warning. This will be long. And probably emotional.)

Where do I even begin... I discovered this series when I was nine-years-old, right after the first game had come out. And seeing the advertisements for it on Disney channel made me want to have it so very badly.

I actually didn’t have a PS2 at the time... And while my sister and I did want other games alongside KH, yes, it was mainly for KH that we wanted a Playstation 2... So we begged our parents for one for Christmas, and they were gracious enough to get us one and quite a few games... and, of course, Kingdom Hearts with them.

We actually didn’t start with that one, though (even though I wanted to). My sister wanted to somewhat save the best for last, I guess... And when we did finally end up playing it, I had actually caught a bit of a cold (and it was only the promise that we’d finally play Kingdom Hearts, that day that got me to game. Even though I had been every day before, and had enjoyed all the other games--don’t get me wrong--but I was feeling that crappy, and it took the incentive of Kingdom Hearts to get me to agree).

And to say that I fell in love with it from the get-go would be an understatement. The opening cinematic pulled me in, it’s true (and already, I could tell this was different from the other games based on movies that I’d played), but it was mainly the Dive to the Heart section that really captured me (and made me forget my illness). That atmosphere still gives me chills and wonder, and calls me back to give it a go again years and years later. And I’m glad something like it has been included in games since, like in KHII, KHIII, Re:Coded, and what have you.

I was nine... So I stumbled my way through a lot of this game--and I mean stumbled--I had no idea what I was doing most of the time. In the fights, a lot of the ways I’d let Donald and Goofy do all of the work... and it took me a whole month to find Maleficent in Hollow Bastion. But I did end up beating the game, and understanding all of it.

I also ended up getting deep thoughts about it--as it is a mystery series that leaves you thinking--and I know I used to annoy people by talking about it. Haha. But this series got me thinking in a way that nothing else had... And that I honestly don’t know if most other kids my age could have... at least without something like this in their lives.

At this point, the series owned my soul. It touched me more than any other piece of media ever had, and ever will--and I’d had plenty pieces of media I really liked back then, such as Sailor Moon and yet they didn’t even come close. And while I’d shipped other couples before, such as Usagi and Mamoru from Sailor Moon, Sora and Kairi was the first one where I really felt like “These two have to be together”--and my life became about waiting for the next game (it still very much is, as sad as that might be to say).

I remember I would go to the store, and often times ask people who worked in the game section if they knew anything about a Kingdom Hearts II (this was before I had the Internet), and I recall being really sad one time when one of the workers told me maybe there never would be. LOL And to be clear, this was the time even before Chain of Memories.

Eventually, I saw Chain of Memories advertised on Cartoon Network and then begged my parents for a Game Boy Advance, so I could play this sequel. And for the Christmas that year, they complied as well (gosh, I have the best parents in the world). But I was saddened when I realized I couldn’t really play it with my sister (and her best friend) who I’d played the first game with. So my sister just told me to play it, and then tell her everything that happened. Which I did... With notes, and everything. Oh, yeah. I kept notes on KHI, CoM, and KHII, I think. I was that level of crazy (in a good way!).

Around this time, I was also subscribed to Disney magazines... And when I eventually got one that had Kingdom Hearts II in it: the one that revealed Sora’s new outfit as Beast’s Castle as a world--the first I’d ever heard of it, and the first I realized that Chain of Memories wasn’t the “true sequel” (as much as I did like Chain of Memories, I was glad to hear this. And even moreso that it was coming back to consoles, so I could experience it with my sister and her best friend again), I legitimately screamed so loud, you don’t even know. It’s a good thing I was home alone that day... And screaming about anything Kingdom Hearts related has pretty much become a trend of mine. Oops.

...So then I ended up pre-ordering Kingdom Hearts II from GameStop, with all of the cool things that came with that (like the special edition strategy guide that had four different covers, based on Sora’s Drive Forms. I have the Valor/Brave Form one), and I asked my mom to pick it up for me while I was at school so I could come home the day it came out and immediately start playing it. It came out near the beginning of that year’s spring break, and I beat the whole game in that time... You couldn’t have pulled me away from my Playstation 2 that break if you had tried. 

I also know that I tried out for my school’s show choir the time that Kingdom Hearts II had just come out... Something I really should have cared about, but I didn’t as much as I could’ve... And while my mom had gotten busy talking to someone, waiting for me to come back from my audition, when I got back and she was still talking to them... I sort of wanted her to hurry along, so I could get back to my game... Something I think my mom even admitted to that person (but in as nice a way as possible)... Oh my gosh.

I also know that one day, I was thinking about KHII in class--I’d left off on the half-way mark of the game, with the 1000 Heartless battle and all that--so it was heavy on my mind... Our teacher was asking us about our weekends, and someone else in class started talking about how they started playing Kingdom Hearts II, and I gasped loudly--to which everyone stared--and I said that I had the game, too, and loved it... My teacher then said that was the most emotion they’d ever gotten out of me.

Ahahahahaha. I have many other embarrassing stories that I could admit with this series--particularly with KHII, and I have on past accounts--but you know what? I’m going to save myself some humiliation and keep them to myself.

But KH... It means the world to me. How can it not? It’s been a constant joy in my life for so many years: That’s been with me through just a little before my double-digit years, all of my teens, and into my adulthood.

I’ve made many friends through this series, too, either by convincing my friends to give it a try or making friends with people I know love the saga.

It’s a constant light for me, and always has been, that reminds me of my childhood (for so many reasons. The Disney for sure being one of them) and simpler times: And that there always is a light at the end of the tunnel... 

In fact, the KH characters even feel like friends I’ve had for a long time--that I can always count on--and who I’m always happy to see.

And even now, that feeling hasn’t faded away (it probably never will). Since the way I reacted to KHIII, is pretty much the way I did KHII: Even fourteen years later, and as an adult now.

Kingdom Hearts even introduced me to all the things I love. I found YouTube--after I finally got Internet--when a friend told me I could watch the Kingdom Hearts II secret ending there, as I hadn’t unlocked it myself (and since I had doubts in myself as a gamer back then, I wasn’t sure that I could. Even though I had unlocked the one for the first game. And did eventually do so for the second game... and all of them, except for KHIIFM so far). And YouTube, amvs (a lot of them for KH) is how I found my love for video editing.

And moreover, I’m a writer. And it was in Googling stuff about Sora and Kairi that I eventually discovered fanfiction (that I actually, stupidly, thought was official stuff by the actual writers at first, because I found fanfiction on sites that weren’t called that), and through that started it myself and honed my writing skills. My writing style is probably even inspired by KH, in a lot of ways--like how I handle mystery and when I deliver information to the reader, and all.

KH also did simpler things, like getting me into other Square Enix games (Final Fantasy, The World Ends With You, Bravely Default), and gaming in general.

I wouldn’t be the person I am today without Kingdom Hearts, and that’s just the facts.

I’ve even bonded over it with my dad. My dad doesn’t know the series at all, God bless him, but he’s always willing to talk to me about it and ask me questions since he knows I love it so much. He always asks me when the next game’s coming out. Or if he knows one’s coming out, he’s aware of how happy that must have made me... Or if I’m playing it around him, and he hears a long song begin to play, he knows I must have beaten it. He also went to the Kingdom Hearts Orchestra with me:D

My mom also knows the series through me. A bit more than my dad, since she used to come up and watch us play it some (my dad also did a few times). But I felt it’s more fitting to mention my dad here, since he actually knows it less... And still admirably does this stuff, and is still this in the know about how much it means to me.

...I’ve admitted this before (like in an official survey to Square Enix)--even though I don’t like to, for obvious and personal reasons (and this is for sure something my parents don’t know and never should)--that in really rare, dark times of mine... Kingdom Hearts has saved me from suicide: Those times that I struggle with depression, and felt like I really had nothing else to live for... And yet wanting to be alive to finally see the end of Sora's story, drove me to give life another chance.

And I don’t really think I can say much more than that, or go deeper, to express just what this franchise is to me.

So Kingdom Hearts team... from the bottom of my heart, thank you for everything.

[kylorengarbagedump]

Little Bird: Chapter 10 (NSFWish)

Read on AO3. Part 9 here. Part 11 here.

Summary: Fine, you'll admit that your Commander has manipulated you. That was intention this entire time. Right?

Words: 2500

Warnings: Handmaid AU, Oops! All Feelings :(

Characters: Kylo Ren x Handmaid!Reader

A/N: WOW WELCOME TO MY UPDATE APPROXIMATELY 10 MONTHS LATER. AMAZING TRULY REVOLUTIONARY.

In all honesty, I have no idea what happened, but writing that one-shot just got me fired up to write a chapter for this piece! I really hope you enjoyed it, because I'm trying to up the ante a lil bit!

Thank you so much for reading, everyone! I love you <3

Where were the damn wings?

Before you replied, you squatted, groping the ground, shimmying back as your head spun to find your wings. Something firm brushed your ankle, and you snagged it from underneath your dress, face warm while you tugged the covering over your scalp. Pinching your lips between your teeth, you glanced at Emma, like this would suffice as an answer.

She frowned--as if she were disappointed. “What is going on?”

Your jaw tightened. “Do I really need to answer that?”

The crickets seemed deafening, now. Emma’s full cheeks glowed pink. She shook her head, a long sigh falling through her nose. “You have to be careful,” she mumbled. “Just follow me.”

Head bowed, you obeyed, tucking the rest of your hair into your wings as you walked. She led you back past the pond, grass rustling under your feet while you avoided the backdoor and moved to the side of the house--a place you’d never been. Your heart skipped. Emma wouldn’t sell you out. Would she?

Swallowing, you murmured, “So…”  

“I heard noise,” she said. “That’s why I came outside.”

“Oh,” you replied. “What, uh, what… did you hear?”

“Voices.”

“You didn’t… see? Hear anything else?”

Emma snorted softly. “You don’t need to be caught with his tongue in your mouth to hang for it.”

Your ears burned. On one hand, you couldn’t be more grateful that Emma had been the one to find you. Out of everyone in the home, besides Ren himself, she seemed the least interested in getting you strung up by your neck. But in Gilead, everyone had a tipping point--Emma included. Being Marthas, she and Rose had the least to lose, and the most to gain from a tentative allegiance with Johana. But the grace of humanity had kept you noose-free, so far. Ren was right to fear its weaponization.

“What do you think of the system?” you whispered. “Of Gilead.”

Emma stopped at a white-painted door at the side of the home, hesitating to find the knob when she realized it was already cracked open. She paused, and then looked back at you, brow furrowed. “I think you need to be quiet and go to bed. Goodnight.”

She disappeared into the darkness of the house, footsteps soft scrapes against the floorboards. Face on fire, you eased the door shut behind you and snuck back to your room.

Weeks passed without another incident. For all of Ren’s talk of knowing you, he didn’t seem very dedicated to the idea. You’d barely shared a word with him since the night in the garden. There were evenings, though, when he’d arrive home, and you’d feel his eyes stick to you, the lewd tangle of thoughts in his mind almost audible. During these moments, you’d both stare for long and empty seconds, willing your fantasies to meld in the space between your bodies before being stolen back to reality. A brainless, needy part of you loved this--as if you were privy to his desires, knowing him in a way that even Johana couldn’t. The mere illusion of of power, of importance was enough to get you high, and you craved more, craved to have this part of him all to yourself, to be, in the simplest terms, special.

That was how he did it, you supposed--a few weeks of absence had been enough to make your heart grow fonder, to make you forget his demand you accept your role. It soothed the rejection and fear of vulnerability within you. And even though you knew his intention, knew that this was all to distract you from talking, from asking questions, knew that it was meant to keep you loyal to him, you didn’t care. You wanted, needed a moment with him alone, needed to soothe the primal ache in your body that throbbed in the absence of his touch.

Had he broken you? After all, you didn’t just need him. You needed to know him.

It was difficult to determine when you’d sneak out to find him. It would need to be during the day, you figured, so that if you were found wandering the home you’d have some sort of plausible excuse. In planning, you found it much easier to avoid Johana than anticipated--for whatever reason, her presence had been far less oppressive in the past few weeks. Rather than stomping down the halls on her tiny feet, she floated through the house, suspended on invisible wings. You hadn’t seen her so much as snarl at you in days. The reason didn’t matter, and you didn’t much care. All the more simple for you to get at what you wanted.

One issue: Ren was typically absent during the day. You’d seen him come home early once or twice, but had never managed to catch him--and catching him would’ve been your only shot. You settled on an innocuous meandering through the front gardens after your walk, something you’d really never bothered to do, regardless, in hopes you’d be the one to meet him at the door. By chance, of course.

As you wandered outside, you winced at the sun, hanging bright in the mid-afternoon. Huge beds of red, yellow, and purple flowers were shaded by tall grasses, spiral stone paths winding out from the gates and to the entrance. Near the grasses, benches sat to provide a view of the blooming plants--given the heat, you shuffled there, the sound of stone along your shoes quickening your heart. Anxiety fluttered in your belly, through your arms, down to your toes, an excited grin creeping onto your face. A whisper of shame followed.

What the hell was wrong with you? Plotting to seduce your Commander, burgeoning anticipation for his presence? Of course, you needed to accept reality, but did you need to be so damn giddy about it? The insight into your own manipulation failed to make it any less pathetic. When you sat, the voice of shame screamed for you to stand back up, to get back in the house, to forget anything with Ren had ever happened. But the memory of his kiss--that desperate tenderness of his lips, the glimmer of emotion in his eyes under the starlight--there was something unshakable in those moments. Something that, to you, seemed like hope.

You’d cling to any flicker of that in the eternal darkness of your existence.

Or maybe it was just easier to rationalize that you were doing this by choice, rather than following the traitorous desire of your body to get railed again. If only you could sit your subconscious down and explain to it that you were being held as a captive for your uterus. Perhaps then it would understand the context that made its cravings so vile.

But whether it was hope, or whether it was stupidity, you remained on the bench.

As you followed the path of bees from stamen to stamen, the front door opened--and Johana stepped out. Heat rushed your neck, and you snapped your head to the ground, hoping to appear preoccupied. But not a single derogatory word came out of her mouth.

“Oh,” you heard her say, “I was looking for you. Didn’t think I’d find you out here.”

Swallowing, you glanced up. “You were, uh, looking for me?”

In what seemed to be a dream, or maybe nightmare, Johana fucking smiled. “I was.” The sight of it on her face--genuine, and directed toward you--seemed so alien that you pinched your thigh. Nope. Still awake.

Her quick steps carried her to the bench in a few breaths, and she sat next to you, still grinning. The radiance of her presence chilled your spine. Johana had always sulked through the world, eyes sunken, her face tight and pointed like a shrew’s--but in the light of today’s sun, she seemed… beautiful. The cheeks that seemed hollow now seemed blessed with high, sharp bones--which were quite pretty--and you noticed now that the line of her jaw was well-defined, that she had a small dusting of freckles along the bridge of her nose. A flush revived her sallow skin. Her irises glittered, blue and clear as water.

Forget what was wrong with you. What was wrong with her?

She took your hand in hers, cradling it like a child’s. “I wanted to apologize to you. For being so cruel.”

You pinched yourself again. Nope. “Oh. Well--”

“I recognize the service you’re doing for our family,” she said. “I don’t want you to think that I’m ungrateful. Really, it’s my dream to raise a child with the Commander.”

“Um…” Not one inspired word came to your lips. “You… Uh…” Were you honestly going to thank her for praising your service as a womb slave? “This is, uh, this is just unexpected for me.”

She nodded, furrowing her brow. “Well. I can understand that. But things have changed.” She squeezed your hand. “I would love for you to forgive me. I’m looking forward to participating in the Ceremony with you tomorrow night.”

Fire licked your neck. You were thankful to be wearing gloves--your palms were sweating. “It’s tomorrow night?” You couldn’t believe you’d forgotten.

“Yes,” she replied, smiling. “It’s important for us to work together so my child can be brought into the world--so I hope you do accept my apology.”

Before you could speak, the Commander’s car rolled into the driveway and coasted to a stop, causing you both to crank your heads in its direction. Johana’s grip crushed your fingers. Seething, you tried to meet her gaze, but found her entirely focused on the car, eyes wide and face beaming. Something sunk in your stomach. It wasn’t a squeeze of admonishment--it was a squeeze of exhilaration.

Ren stepped out of the car, buttoning his suit jacket, catching the stare of his Wife as he looked toward the front door. You knew he must have noticed you, as well, but if he did, there wasn’t even the slightest acknowledgement of your presence. He moved toward the both of you, shoes clacking on the path, failing to glimpse you for even the slightest of seconds. This should have been what you wanted, as a Handmaid--to exist as a statue, translucent under the Eyes, a phantom in his presence. But the gnawing in your stomach continued.

“Good afternoon, Johana.” He stopped at the side of the bench, and Johana released your hand. Finally. “I didn’t expect to find you out here.” You wondered if anyone expected anyone to be outside in the world of Gilead.

Johana smiled again. Her large, white teeth split her face in two. “Oh, yes, sir,” she said. “I was actually apologizing to our Handmaid. For how I’ve been.”

Ren’s eyes narrowed, moving to scan the garden. “Really.” He wiggled his wedding band around his finger, twisting it toward his palm. A breeze ruffled the thick waves of his hair. “Mature of you.”

“Well,” she said, “I want the absolute best outcome for our child. Don’t you?”

“Mm.” His chest fell in a soft sigh, and he turned back to her. “I’ll be upstairs.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ren walked to the door and disappeared inside. It was as if you weren’t even there.

Johana spun around, excitement crackling off of her, and took your hand again. “Well? You forgive me, don’t you?”

Your gaze fell from the door, to the grass, to your gloved hand, wrapped in hers. The longer you stared, the more distant it seemed. “Yes. I do.”

“Wonderful.” She let you go, standing up and smoothing her skirt. “I’ll leave you be. And I’ll be seeing you tomorrow.” She supplied you with a final grin, and went inside, the sunshine leaving with her.

You sat, mind spinning. There was a reason Johana’s behavior churned your guts--and in horror, you realized it was jealousy. A Handmaid, jealous of a Wife. It was pitiful. After all, they were married. You were the interloper. But you rewound your earlier justifications. The idea that Ren, buried underneath his hypocrisy, might have cared for you--the hope that the existence of his compassion could, one day, mean freedom. Escape.

Perhaps that was the reason he’d been all but ignoring you. That it wasn’t because he was trying to draw you in, but because he was with her. And if he’d really been ignoring you in favor of her, someone you’d always thought he found repulsive, after that night those weeks ago--what did that mean for your future?

But there had to be another reason. You knew that he felt something different with you. Something Johana would never give him.

Right?

Wiping the sweat from your brow, you stood. You knew your logic was faulty, but the gnawing ache in your stomach was now a ravenous pain. Before you understood what you were doing, you were marching into the house, slipping through the sunny halls, and tip-toeing your way up the iron staircase, hoping to avoid Johana’s nauseating positivity. You’d prove to yourself that hope was alive. And you’d at least bring her behavior up to him. After all, this had been your plan from the beginning--to see him, alone.

Acid burbled inside you. The one day you were lucky enough for him to come home early…

When you reached the top of the staircase, you heard a giggle ricochet through the hall, and you froze, heart stalling. From beyond his bedroom door, waves of breathy gasps, feathery and feminine. Fuck, no, fuck. Your heart wasn’t stalling--it was crashing. Your brain a storm, you whipped around, about to tumble down the steps, but jerked yourself back. Your pulse throbbed in your temple. A sicker part of you wanted to hear more. You wanted to know if it was good. Or better.

Sweat sopping your nape, you swiveled around and crept forward, drowning in the resonance of Johana’s voice. Her moans were low, and long, edged with delight. Images of what he could be doing flashed--were they naked, was he kissing her, where were his hands--and then she gasped again. Swallowing, you edged closer, and then you heard her speak, an ecstatic plea.

“Commander,” she whimpered, “oh, God, please…”

“Tell me how you want it.”

His response was unexpected, and it paralyzed you, breath caught in your lungs. You wanted to pause this moment, dissect every little timbre of his voice until you could know, for certain, the level of his desire, the content of his thoughts, the sincerity of his need.

“Mm… You tell me, sir.”

Ren growled, muffled by the door. “Johana…” His voice was a groan. It was greedy. “Fuck--”

“Oh--fuck--yes!” Johana’s breath became rhythmic, euphoric, harmonizing with quiet grunts that were far too familiar to you. “More--oh, fuck--”

You couldn’t tolerate it anymore, not a single second--you pivoted and scurried back down the hall, head pounding. The sick part of you clung to the stairs, hungry to wait until he came, craving to hear what he sounded like, starving to know their pillow talk.

But you needed to get out, you needed to hide in your room, you needed to fucking slap yourself until you came to your senses and realized that this was your fucking life, now, that you were a fucking slave to a man who didn’t give a shit if you lived or died, that every minute of your existence was stuck in the clutches of the Republic of Gilead and every delusion of escape, every fantasy of hope or reprieve or fucking humanity was dead. They were finally, finally, fucking dead.

[professionally-unprofessional]

Shouto's bashful crush/interest being caught shifting behind the school (after he went to give her sketchbook she dropped) into his fuzzy black furry friend that keeps him company on weekends (cat shifting quirked reader) confusion & embarrassment clouds his mind for he has told that fuzzball many secrets. confrontation? maybe. thinking about the embarrassing things she did to make him feel better? (playing with a Cheerio dropped on the floor) definitely.

Oh geezums this ended up being really long. OOPS. I’m so sorry for the wait with a bunch of requests. I’ve been trying to make more time for fic writing and somehow managed it. Then I got halfway through this one and got stuck with a specific idea I wanted to do that I just couldn’t write and it didn’t fit and ahhh xD but I’m alive. Sorta. I’m trying my best to get back into writing. Also this is super long and I’m really tired. I didn’t quite finish my final proofread so there might be a couple of mistakes in here. Please ignore them if they’re there.

Anyyyywayy I hope you enjoy. I’m finally getting back into requests so I hope more should follow soon.

Ah, this was the life. You smiled and continued to doodle in your sketchbook. This was the best time to sketch. You were in some kind of creative spree which meant that - soon enough - a creative block would kick you into an abyss where inspiration did not dare to dwell. It was fine though. Hatsume would drag you out again with her endless chatter focused around her babies.

You heard a loud bang and smiled lightly, knowing that the pink-haired girl was likely in the design studio right now. The spotlight focused on the heroes was merely blinding to you. A role like that demanded too much attention. Even less popular heroes sometimes got dragged into the light. Despite the path of the hero not suiting you, you still wanted to make yourself useful to the hero society in some way and what better way for a tinkerer to do so than to make support items and hero costumes?

As your latest creation began to take shape on the paper, you wondered if you should go and save Hatsume from forgetting to eat lunch. Again. Despite the large personality differences between the two of you, your duo managed to function reasonably well. It seemed that Hatsume was always happy to enthuse about her ‘babies’ and, since you tended to prefer to be quiet and listen, it worked out well for both parties. She was a fountain of inspiration and you were a companion.

A win-win situation.

However, it wasn’t the pink-haired inventor alone inspiring you to live up to the school’s motto. Your other big sources were the two first-year hero classes. As much as you knew Monoma would hate to hear it, class 1-A enthused your creative mind more than 1-B. It wasn’t your fault that their class just had so many heroes with such interesting quirks and personalities.

Deciding to actually move, you headed back inside to the support course workshops and found your friend with a soot-covered face and a determined grin. Of course. With a small wave, you called out for her and she immediately turned around, greeting you warmly. Ignoring her rambling about her latest failed experiment, you pulled her out of there and into the lunch hall to grab something to eat. Settling down, you noticed that lunch was already halfway through. Oh well. You’d spent it in a way you enjoyed.

You noticed a familiar group of heads nearby as you took in the large dining hall. Looking over to them, you noticed a pair of dual coloured eyes lowering back to the meal in front of the individual. He was sat at a table with the green haired boy who needed something done about his arms and the gravity girl who had the big pink boots on her outfit. Oh, and there was the guy who had the white suit like Ingenium. 

You smiled as you watched the bi-coloured boy for a moment. If memory served correctly, his name was Todoroki. He’d come to you a couple of times to help with tweaks to the temperature sensors in the vest on his hero costume.

Since he’d started using his quirk for both fire and ice after the sports festival, he’d needed small adjustments to the sensitivity of the heating and cooling elements in his jacket. You’d been overjoyed when Power Loader - Maijima-sensei - had assigned you to it. Apparently you were much better at doing live work than Hatsume. On two accounts; you were less likely to cause injury and you didn’t make students uncomfortable by touching them all over to determine if they were as muscular as they seemed.

Todoroki was a pleasure to work with; he gave instructions and feedback perfectly when you needed it. Not only that, but he was patient and polite with you. Smiling to yourself, you wondered if he may need anything else again soon.

Realising that you probably looked like a loon smiling to yourself like that, you quickly shook your head and cleared it. You were just thankful that your companion was still so deep in thought about how she could improve her work that she hadn’t noticed your little daze. You shifted a little in your seat and debated on how you’d spend the evening after school.

A yawn left the bi-coloured boy as he headed back from meeting his mother. It was later than he’d thought. He kept walking and soon came to see a familiar black bundle of fluff on a bench outside a coffee shop. As he approached, he paused and noticed that the little creature wasn’t asleep but merely curled up. Raising its head, the cat unfurled itself and stretched luxuriously as a light breeze ruffled its fur.

He extended a hand in greeting and waited. Once a soft muzzle had rubbed against his fingers in a feline hello, Todoroki stroked the small one’s head and was given a quiet purr in response. His gaze followed the cat as it hopped up onto the back of the bench and then looked to be making a calculation for a jump. He remained still as the feline soared and landed on his shoulder lightly.

Todoroki could remember the first time it had tried that. It had been such an epic fail that it’d pulled a small chuckle from him before he’d softly scooped up the fuzzball and put it where it desired. For the rest of the evening the cat had seemed almost indignant, puffing up and lashing its tail slightly… at least until it was given a nice scratch behind the ears and calmed down. He began walking back towards home and heard a small, uncomfortable mew as a spot of water assaulted his nose.

The forecast hadn’t predicted rain for today. He picked up his pace and headed for home. Endeavour was away with work this weekend in another city so at least it would be quiet in the house. Having a bit of company wouldn’t hurt and his companion always seemed to like curling up on the tatami flooring. The soft rumbling of a lazy purr was rather comforting in the silence of the house. There was either that, or the black bundle of fur would bat something around the floor of his room while he worked. He’d dropped a small bit of cereal before and had gone to retrieve it only to find the cheerio halfway across the room with playful paws spurring it on.

As he settled down, the cat descended from his shoulder and began rubbing its head against his side. Smiling, he stroked  their soft fur. It was soothing to some extent and he didn’t feel so bad whenever he had this friend by his side. The companionship was fine and the more he had the cat around, the more he found he enjoyed and appreciated the quiet comfort. 

Sometimes animals were far better company than humans.

He sighed softly and looked down at the papers he’d taken from his backpack. Homework. Fine. After a while, he looked up and realised that a pair of eyes had been watching him. For a moment, he thought the feline’s face held an expression of concern. It must’ve been his imagination, but sometimes the bundle of fur felt almost… human.

Smiling wryly, he patted the small head as though in reassurance that everything was fine. He was alright. As the head tilted with what felt like a slight frown, he blinked and unloaded a little. It was nice to be able to talk to something and even better that they couldn’t speak back and pull him to pieces. He didn’t want to be told that all of his thoughts were wrong and that he shouldn’t be concerned with some of the situations that plagued him.

Just because he was a hero-in-training didn’t mean that the rest of the usual teenage problems didn’t apply to him at all.

It was easy to forget that everyone in their class- no their entire year… they were all still children, really.

After a while, he tilted his head back and found that your face came to mind. Why was he thinking of you now? You’d helped him out a few weeks ago with his hero costume and hadn’t minded when he’d been finicky about how finely-tuned the temperature-sensitive vest was. You’d been so happy to help with such quiet cheerfulness that he’d found that the experience rather pleasant rather than long and draining.

Even if you were just another student in another course, he recalled your name. Maybe you’d forgotten all about him, but he couldn’t get your quiet patience and positivity out of his head. Even when the vest had decided it didn’t want to adjust, you’d kept going. Your tiny smile hadn’t even wavered.

He wished that he too could face everything with such indifference to challenges.

There was a muffled bump and Todoroki found the fluff-ball had tipped itself over batting a loose pencil around on the table. When the pencil fell off, a paw reached down and tried to touch it, only for the figure to slip off the table and tumble down. He smiled and the feline face that met his seemed more bright than before. Could this cat really understand him?

“Are you trying to cheer me up?” He questioned blankly and received a small nuzzle to his outstretched hand as a response accompanied by a soft mew.

“Hey… there’s someone I like. Do you think she’d like me back?” At this, the form paused and looked up at him with big, warm eyes. After a moment, a fluffy belly was exposed to him and he fulfilled the request and earned a quiet purr. Perhaps if a feline could be so comfortable around him, so could his crush. The thought warmed him and he uttered a soft thanks to the cat, receiving a number of headbuts and purrs as a result.

A cat for a councillor. Who would’ve thought?

You smiled happily to yourself as you left the UA campus the next week. The weekend had been a nice break. Time to get back to work. Hatsume had conjured up yet another baby but this one needed some more fine tuning before it could be set loose on human beings.

As her friend, you’d helped. You were better at the tiny, extremely boring and equally frustrating adjustments that were required before any piece was fully finished. Half of Hatsume’s unfinished work was because she’d almost be done and then another amazing idea would sweep her away into a frenzy of creation. Who could blame her?

No matter how hard you worked, thoughts of a particular student plagued you. Despite your mind being flooded with different thoughts, you continued onwards. The hours of the school day ticked by and after lunch you were given a new assignment. Designing work would come first. Personal woes could wait.

After an hour and a half of sitting with no inspiration or ideas, you huffed and closed your sketchbook. Hatsume had gone into her hyper-focus mode where she went quiet and worked really hard. That inventive glow never left her face. Yet still you didn’t seem to be able to work. The temptation to gently hit your face against the table was overpowering.

Nothing. No ideas. Useless, empty brain!

Wow. Washed up as a first year… So sad.

After another half hour of fruitless struggling to come up with anything half decent, you’d had enough. With your face resting on the desk, you let out a small, frustrated huff. A mop of pink hair moved in the corner of your eyes and you felt those quirk-filled eyes staring directly at you. A blink. Another. The gaze shifted back to the item in her hands.

You couldn’t blame her for not saying anything. Not only did she have her own work, but you doubted that she’d have anything useful to say and she probably knew that too. From what you’d seen, either Hatsume didn’t understand how normal people worked or simply didn’t care to try and work with that. 

You still hadn’t figured out which yet.

Sitting back up, you had a look at the now filthy page. There were tiny indents from the previous sketches that you’d erased and a couple of extremely rough sketches on paper around your workbench. Pencil met paper again, sketching lines and curves but everything was too stiff and unimaginative along with the fact that it didn’t fit your brief and just—

No. This wasn’t your day. As you picked up the eraser to get rid of your latest set of failures, you found a piece of familiar yellow headgear beside your bench. “Are all the ideas feeling terrible?”

A small nod was all you could manage with the frustration churning inside.

Your short teacher took a glance towards the clock at the back of the classroom. Half an hour to go. This designing didn’t need to be finished today but you still needed to have something to work from in the next lesson. You nervously waited to hear what solution or punishment you’d get only to receive a sigh from Power Loader.

“Why don’t you get some air from the studio? There’s only another half hour. Just don’t leave campus early.”

You nodded, knowing what he was getting at. Frustration would lead to more frustration and it would only amount to a mental block, generating more irritation. The spiral of unproductively would get worse and more self-destructive until it became unbearable. Calming down was the best option. Agreeing, you packed up your things as the headgear and ginger hair disappeared further into the classroom.

As you threw your things back into your bag, you wondered where to go. One of the windowsills in the large corridors would be good. It was raining outside and you always felt worse when the weather was bad. Perhaps it was a side effect of your quirk. Placing the sketchbook down against the wall as you would rather it didn’t get crushed in your bag, you pulled out some headphones and decided to cool off with some good music.

Your mind raced back to the previous night. You’d been enjoying your quirk as you usually did… with Todoroki. Despite what he’d said, you smiled. It was fine if he liked someone else. You allowed yourself to wonder if it could be you that he liked. Some sort of storybook cliché where he’d actually confessed to his love but didn’t know it. Nah. That couldn’t be it. Not when there were people like the ginger-haired girl with the big hands and the black-haired girl with the creation quirk in his year.

They were amazing. They were upcoming heroes. You were just someone cheering everyone on from the sidelines; a cheer which couldn’t even be heard. As much as you took pride in your skills, you knew that you’d forever be a world apart from heroes. You were fine with that. You didn’t want the popularity or fame. So you would watch as your gear assisted them and you would smile and feel that you’d at least done something worthwhile.

Even when you wondered if the students you’d helped remembered your name.

Why would they? You were just another gear-head in a support course classroom. You weren’t even outstanding like Hatsume. You smile widened and you felt the facade beginning to crack. You had nothing to complain about seeing as you wanted to melt into the background. Gosh, being a cat was so much easier. All you had to do was be cute and the world would come to you. Well, give or take the odd shady stranger that looked as though they might try and kick you. 

There was always the option of confessing, but what would the point in that be? Brutal rejection happened to be well… brutal. Not exactly a desirable experience you wished to go through. So you’d continue to shove down a blush when he came into the design studio. You’d continue to feel a strange warmth in your chest when you heard about his successes in his class from other students.

You’d continue to be unable to look him in the eye as a human but do so as a cat.

Todoroki blinked as he noticed something against a windowsill in one of the corridors. A black notebook? Despite the fact that merely leaving it be would be the best and easiest option, he picked up the item and looked it over. There was something strangely familiar about the object but he couldn’t place where he’d seen it before.

It was none of his business, but he wondered if there would be a name in the front. Opening it, a scrawl of designs met his eyes. No name, but the ideas were proof enough of who it belonged to. For some reason, he couldn’t help but quickly glance through. The neat final designs that had been put together with such care and attention were beautiful. However, it was the messy rough sketches that he preferred. Namely, the personality that shone through in each and every one.

This was important to you. It was always beside you. Wherever you went, this went. It was always beside you when he saw you in the design studio, or in your hand when you wandered through the lunch hall with Hatsume.

Todoroki remembered that he’d seen you walking in the opposite direction only a few moments ago. You usually hung around in your classroom for a few moments after school finished since he’d seen you there when he’d gone to request one of the capsules on his belt be replenished after a training session.

Trying to think of which way you’d have gone if you were leaving school in that direction, he walked off. If he couldn’t find you now, he’d go back to your workbench and leave it there.

He hurried and caught sight of the back of your head turning a corner. How lucky. You exited the school from a back entrance and the bi-colored boy wondered why you’d leave this way. Oh well. Each and every one to their own, right?

He caught the door before it latched shut and found you tucking your bag behind a large bin. As he was about to call out, there was a flash. Standing before him, no taller than his shins was his black fluffy friend.

Surprise and confusion instantly rose to the surface. Wait, that was you? Or wasn’t it? Well, there were probably other black cats in the city, not just your other form, right? Why hadn’t he asked what your quirk had been when he’d been with you getting adjustments? Why hadn’t he shown more of an interest and figured this out—Wait.

He’d confessed. The realisation of everything you knew came crashing down upon him and he almost swayed. You knew everything: his mother and his father along with his scar, his frustration, his pain, his fears… everything.

You knew… everything.

A sudden feeling of vulnerability crashed into him. You had a huge wealth of knowledge on him. Blackmailing him would become child’s-play to you if you really tried.

Then something else came to mind. The cheerio— you’d played with it and always done something silly as a cat to try and get him to laugh. Even when he’d almost frozen his room solid in an emotional outburst similar to what had happened with Sero at the sports festival… you’d still sat on the table when you could have fled through the open window. You had hopped onto his lap and nuzzled your head against his hand.

All the times when you’d brought him a gift while he was doing homework sprung to mind. You’d offered him erasers or pens by batting them across the table. Other days when he was feeling a bit blue you’d move something across the table and away from him, making him chase you around the room a couple of times to get it back.

He’d never deigned to freeze you. Freezing an animal was just cruel, even if he could melt it afterwards.

Not to mention that your little bean paws happened to be so desperately soft. Damaging them with ice would be a tragedy. For both parties involved.

He fought down the urge to turn red at the realisation that you’d been present when he’d changed. Wait, you’d always either left the room quickly or gone out of sight. Had you been saving his modesty?

Coming back to his senses, he realised that his breath was crystallising in front of him and frost was creeping up his arm. There had been one night where the rain had been thrashing down outside and you’d been shivering in the cold. He’d let you curl up beside him atop the futon. When your shivering didn’t stop, he’d put his hand over you and used his quirk just enough to keep your form warm.

You wouldn’t do something with the information. You weren’t the type.

But what about how you saw him? You’d never acted differently around him. What did that mean?

Either way, you were gone for now and he was still holding your sketchbook. Glancing down at your bag, he slipped the sketchbook carefully into a position where it wouldn’t get wet if it rained nor damaged should the bins be moved. Once it was safe, he stood and left.

You couldn’t focus. Not at all. Someone had put your sketchbook back into your bag but how had they known where your bag was? Who would’ve known that the sketchbook belonged to you, anyway? There was no name in it, you remembered that whenever you thought you’d lost it.

So who had recognised your drawing and followed you outside? There wasn’t anyone who knew about your little evening adventures. Some part of you wondered what was so alarming. Your quirk was cat-shifting. No big deal.

The thing that was alarming was the fact that you had heightened senses as a cat. Which also meant a greater sense of smell. You’d caught a whiff of Todoroki on your bag before you’d shifted back and disregarded it. Until you’d noticed the notebook.

Did he know? Had he witnessed the shift or just recognised your bag? Either way you weren’t exactly happy to contemplate what you’d do with this knowledge. You weren’t sure what he’d do with it either. Oh, how had you gotten yourself into this mess?

Huffing softly, you slumped further and buried your face in your arms. Nothing was going right today. You just couldn’t focus. You’d try and then your mind would bring Todoroki up and you’d have a whole inner argument about how this was going to ruin everything but that it was also going to be fine.

“(Y/N)?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin as your name was called. “Y-yes?!” You blushed at your own flustered response and whipped your head up to see whoever it was that needed your assistance. “Todoroki. Um, how can I help you?”

You gaze hit the desk and remained there as he merely stared down at you. With a jolt, you realised that only you and Hatsume were left in the studio out of all the support students. When had the day ended?

“I just wanted to ask if you could note down for one of the capsules of disinfectant to be refilled.” You blinked. Slowly. Nothing he said was registering. “The capsules on the belt of my hero costume.”

At his clarification you nodded and tried to tell him that you’d do it, but the words died in your throat and you were left just sat there. Why wasn’t your voice working? This was the worst. Biting down on the warmth that was rising to your cheeks, you shook your head and gave a firm nod. Professionalism. You could do this!

“That’s fine. I’ll leave a note for Power Loader. It’ll be done before your next training exercise.”

“Thank you.”

He was about to leave. For some reason, you didn’t want him to go. Maybe you were ill today. There must have been a reason that you were doing so badly today. Even if you had a bad time, you never messed up in every aspect of life all at once. 

“Uh, how are the adjustments in the heat sensors doing? Is the sensitivity better than before?”

He paused from turning away and politely explained that it had been better. Somehow, you managed to smile and tell him that you were glad it helped.

This was awkward. You should really let him go. Thanking him for stopping by and letting the support course know about the problem, you threw your bag over your shoulder. As you went to pick up your sketchbook from the table, you noticed Todoroki’s gaze lingering on it.

He didn’t attempt to comment on it.

You were leading the way to the door when Hatsume’s cry of alarm reached you. Well, it was more a cry of “Baby!” Either way, it functioned the same as an alarm call. You turned to see what the issue was and were met with a metallic arm shooting towards your face.

You weren’t entirely sure what happened in that moment. Instinct took over.

One moment you were staring at it and the world felt like it’d frozen. The next, you were opening your eyes a mere few inches from the floor with cold hitting your sides. Shaking your head to clear the sudden fuzziness, you looked around. Your bag was just behind you and was bigger than you were. Brilliant. Shifting right in front of him had been at the top of the things you wanted to avoid. Guess there was no running from it now. No chance of hiding this anymore.

Todoroki was looking down at you with his usual poker-faced expression. Well, that solved the mystery of who had put your sketchbook in your bag and who might have seen you shift. It took a few moments for you to realise what it meant. However, you had other things to worry about at this moment in time. Transforming back into a human being would be a good start.

Focusing on your quirk, you let the familiar image of yourself fill your mind. Your hair, eyes, form and all the little details came back and when you opened your eyes again you were seeing the world from the comforting height of a teenager. Fantastic. One issue down and probably many more to go.

You looked at Todoroki and gave him a shy shrug. For some reason, it was all you could think of to offer. There was a silent apology in that shrug but he merely rose a hand to the wall of ice and melted it.“We need to talk.” Despite being used to the lack of emotion in his voice, it had never been so harsh when he’d spoken to you as a cat. It hadn’t been quite as chilly when he’d spoken to you as a support course student.

“Yeah.” You managed out.

He turned and walked out of the classroom. You picked up your bag and followed him, head hung low. You’d blown it. Well and truly blown it. Your little times of happiness beside him as a feline were over.

You’d both left the school and turned into a small side alley just outside the school when he stopped.

He opened his mouth to speak but you knew you had to say something first. You couldn’t take this. Despite the embarrassment and shame coursing through you at being found out like this… You could do it. You’d go first.

“Before you say anything,” you took a small breath and managed to raise your gaze to meet his. Bashful, perhaps, but not weak-willed. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t mean to cause any discomfort, I just enjoyed being in your company. I should have told you or stopped—”

“You enjoyed those evenings?”

You nodded. As much as a part of you hated the attention, you would stand here. You wouldn’t back down. You weren’t a coward. It didn’t matter that you didn’t want to shine brightly and draw attention like the hero course students and Hatsume. You could still muster the courage to say what you wanted to say now.

When push came to shove, you could do it.

“I did. I’m not sure why, but I really did like being there. It was rude of me to hear about what’s going on in your family. That was personal, but I couldn’t just run away or block it out. I didn’t know what to do other than listen.” You shifted slightly, feeling more and more uncomfortable as Todoroki’s gaze remained on you. “I promise I won’t say a word about it to anyone, so don’t worry about that.”

“Why did you come back so many times. It must have been boring after a while.”

You took a moment to collect your thoughts. You’d gotten this far, so you might as well go the whole way. Why was he asking so many questions? It didn’t matter. This was it. You were ready for rejection but at least you’d have it out. You could combat this shyness if you wanted.

“I liked your company. I enjoy being around you and well, I didn’t like seeing you sad. Cheering you up is just like helping the hero course out in another way.”

Inwardly cheering at how flat you’d managed to keep your face for that small confession, you went to move past him. There was no need to get told that he didn’t want you around. You knew that he’d never stop by the bench you’d used to wait on. Those times were gone now.

“I enjoyed having you around too.”

You paused and looked back. A small spark of hope had ignited in your chest. “Would it be okay if I did it again. Just an evening every so often. It’s fine if that’d be strange now.”

“That would be nice.”

You turned fully to see him and gave him a shy smile, unable to stop the redness rising on your cheeks as a joyful warmth filled you from head to toe.

“Would it be alright if we spent an evening like that with you in your human form as well?”

Shhhhh I’m a Ghibli fan and there was a black cat in this fic.