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superhaught · 30 days

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Gym Class Heroes (Chapter Two)

Pairing: Regina George x Reader

Warnings: homophobia

Word Count: ~2300, Part 2/?

Part 1

Regina pursues her interest in protecting reader as she recovers from the basketball to the head.

Turns out, you did indeed have a mild concussion from the basketball incident, so you took the weekend and the following Monday off of school to rest and recuperate.

You were napping when your mom knocked lightly on your bedroom door and then came in. You woke up and saw that she had an armful of things.

“One of your school friends stopped by and brought your homework from today plus a card and some snacks, how sweet!”

You sat up and rubbed the sleep from your eyes, “one of my friends? Do you know who?”

“Oh I don’t know, sweetheart. She was blonde and tall and pretty.”

You couldn’t help your face from lighting up, “gimme the card!”

Your mom handed you everything and you tore open the envelope. It was a simple “get well soon” card but what you were most interested in was the handwritten note. The writer’s penmanship was exquisite, not that you were particularly surprised by that fact. The card smelled like her perfume, as if she had spritzed some on. She’s unreal, you thought. Fragrant notes of orange blossom and rose filled your nostrils and it was addictive.

The note read: Hey you, I hope you’re doing okay and aren’t too worried about getting behind on schoolwork. If you need help getting your homework done, I know a guy. Anyways, Shane got three days of suspension, which isn’t enough, imo. Text me if ur bored <3 R

She wrote her phone number at the end. You giggled and reread it in full, going as far as kicking your feet excitedly under your blankets.

“She seems like a sweet girl,” your mom pointed out.

Her voice brought you back to reality. You cleared your throat, “mom, my head is kind of hurting, can I go back to sleep?”

“Oh yeah, of course honey! Get some rest.”

“Thank you,” you set the card down next to you and laid back down as your mom left and once she closed the door behind her, you grabbed your phone and began typing a message to Regina’s number.

“Hey, ‘R’” you wrote.

The message delivered and the little typing-indicator dots showed up right away, then her message back came through, “I’m glad you didn’t keep me waiting ;)” then she sent a second message, “how are you feeling?”

Being stunned, you didn’t respond to Regina’s text right away. Your heart was pounding. You couldn’t believe that Regina, the queen bee of the school, the most popular girl, the previously-believed-to-be-completely-and-totally-straight-girl, was asking you out.

Another text from her popped up, “well don’t leave me hanging”

You decided that you wanted to call her. Maybe you felt like you needed to in order to confirm that this was actually real. You called and it rang twice and then you heard her voice through the phone.

She chuckled as she spoke, “hi…”

“Hi…” you said back, suddenly forgetting what words were.

“What did you want to say that couldn’t have been sent over text?”

“I just… you really want to date me?”

“Yes. I do. Is that really so shocking?”

“A little, yeah.”

“Well listen, I’ve had my eye on you for a while now. And, as I’m sure you are aware, I’m used to getting what I want.”

You shuddered and then replied, “Regina… I’d love to go out with you.”

The two of you continued to talk on the phone well into the night. It was Regina who insisted that you hang up and go to bed to get some good sleep before coming to school tomorrow. The blonde also offered to pick you up in the morning and drive you to school herself. You, of course, accepted.

You went to sleep feeling lighter than air.

In the morning, you got ready for school with more zeal than you ever had in your life. Your mother wondered out loud whether you had been replaced overnight by an entirely different person. You just smiled and said that you were happy and feeling better.

There was a car horn honk from your driveway and your mom kissed your cheek goodbye as you left your home.

Regina was sitting in her black Jeep, using her mirror to fix her hair. She smiled at you as you came out of your house and approached the passenger side of her car. She leaned and reached over, cracking the door open for you and then offering you her hand to hold as you stepped up into the car.

You sat down and tossed your backpack into the backseat.

She smiled again, looking you over, “you look so cute!” Regina then gently caressed her thumb over the bruise on your forehead from the basketball, “and this is looking much better.”

You looked her up and down as well and smiled, “you look incredible…”

“Thanks, baby.”

She had called you ‘baby’ on the phone the night before as well. The affection made your heart flutter.

She continued, “get buckled, let’s go.”

Regina drove you both to school and parked in her spot in the student lot. It wasn’t an assigned parking spot or anything, it was just the closest spot to her preferred entrance and it was hers by way of having scolded anyone who had ever dared to park there.

When you got out of the car, Regina walked over to you and took your hand in hers.

Surprised, you said, “you know, we haven’t actually gone out yet…”

“I know that. Do you mind if I hold your hand anyway? Do I have to wait before I can show you off?”

“I don’t mind,” you smiled.

Regina walked you into the school and immediately, all eyes were on the two of you. You half expected Regina to drop your hand but she didn’t. You glanced over at her and she was proud. Beaming even.

She squeezed your hand a little tighter and looked at you, “you okay?”

You nodded your head, “I am.”

Regina went with you to your locker and leaned against the adjacent locker while you put your backpack away. Then Regina noticed that you had a small magnetic mirror in your locker and she came up behind you and wrapped her arms around you from behind and looked into the mirror.

“We look good together, don’t we?”

You looked at the image in the mirror and thought she was right. With her bright blonde locks draped over your shoulders, her manicured fingers touching your neck, her cheek pressed against yours, it was a dream come true.

“It’s way too easy for me to get lost in you…”

“I feel the same way, baby.”

At that point, Gretchen and Karen approached, locating Regina as if they had a homing beacon to her. Gretchen flashed you a polite smile and said, “you look mostly recovered!”

Karen stared at you with wide eyes and said, “don’t worry, I’ve been knocked out by a basketball too! It happens to everyone.”

You thought about objecting to her statement in some way but then you just nodded.

Regina grabbed your hand again and touched your cheek, turning you to face her, “you’ll sit with us at lunch, right?”

“Oh sure! If you want me to…”

“Of course, silly! Well, you know where to find me, then. I’ll see you later.” Regina pulled you into a hug and squeezed you tightly against her chest. And for the first time in your life, you felt genuinely wanted.

The next two days went by fast. Regina took over driving you to and from school and your mom thanked her profusely for giving her a break. You joined Regina, Gretchen and Karen for lunch, sometimes you were also joined by Cady, Janis and Damien, now that things had gotten less tense between those two trios in the aftermath of the junior year dramatics.

Regina was extremely attentive to you. You naturally fell into habits of taking care of each other, Regina looking out for you as you continued to recover from your concussion, and you paying attention to her chronic pain flare ups and making sure she was monitoring her POTS symptoms.

You and Regina agreed to go on your first official date together that weekend, but she certainly was not hesitating to claim you as hers in the meantime. In those 48 hours, there was already an instagram and twitter account dedicated to shipping the two of you and you overheard a lot of talk about your sudden closeness and Regina’s obvious protection over you.

It all came to a head the day that Shane Oman was back at school.

At lunch, Regina showed up to the table a few minutes later than what was typical for her, and she was dragging Shane by his shirtsleeve until she shoved him right in front of you.

You set your lunch down and looked at him, then Regina, who shoved him again and said, “well, go ahead.”

Shane rolled his eyes, “fine… I’m sorry…”

Regina’s arms were crossed but she smirked a little, clearly proud of herself.

“Sorry that you’re a disgusting fucking carpetmuncher!” Shane finished, yelling loud enough for the entire cafeteria to hear and immediately cease their conversations, turning all of their attention to your table.

Gretchen covered her own mouth in shock. Janis and Damien's jaws both dropped open. Karen was staring at something on the ceiling. Cady whispered “oh my gosh” under her breath.

You just froze and stared.

Regina lurched forward and gripped the back of Shane’s shirt collar, pulling him backwards by it in a swift motion and basically choking him with the fabric, “what the fuck did you just say?” she growled.

Shane coughed, “I… I… said… carpetmuncher… and I’m not sorry… and I don’t believe for one second… that you’re falling for this… this… dyke!”

“Oh? You don’t?” Regina pushed Shane down to the ground and he collapsed to his knees and rubbed his neck as Regina let him go. Regina walked over to you and took your face in her hands. One second, her face was red with fury, but when she looked down at you, she immediately softened. She pulled you close to her and then pressed her lips to yours.

It wasn’t how you imagined how your first kiss with Regina would have gone, but you wouldn’t have changed anything about it.

She kissed you so tenderly. Your senses were completely overwhelmed by the softness of her lips, the taste of her lip gloss, the smell of her hair, the feel of her tongue just teasing your bottom lip. Regina held the kiss for a long time and you held her waist.

You knew everyone’s eyes (and cameras) were on you, but you couldn’t have cared less. You had Regina, and that’s all that mattered.

When Regina pulled away, she kept eye contact with you for a moment and smiled, assuring you that she kissed you because she wanted to, not just to prove a point. She came back to give you one more quick and gentle kiss before returning her attention to the pathetic man on the ground.

“Next time you want to say anything derogatory to my baby here, you better be fucking prepared to say it to me, too, Shane. And I don’t think I need to spell out the absolute shithole you will find yourself in if you do that.”

Shane stared at her with wide, terrified, eyes.

“Now get the fuck out of my sight.” Regina added.

Shane scrambled to his feet and sprinted out of the cafeteria as Regina took her seat next to you with closed eyes and exhaled a breath through her nose to calm herself.

You leaned your head on her shoulder and whispered, “thank you, Gina.”

She turned her head and kissed your temple, “of course, baby.”

#regina george #regina x reader #regina george x reader #regina george fanfic #mean girls #mean girls 2024 #regina george renee rapp #reneé rapp #my fanfiction #my writing #original writing #gym class heroes

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odyssean-flower · 8 months

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The Chief Justice and the Worst Painter in Fontaine Chapter 2: The Wonders of Water

summary: It was supposed to be your time to relax and get in touch with your (extremely) buried creative side...but then your boss showed up. Masterpost here

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 (Bonus Scenes) || Chapter 4

On that first week back to work after your surreal weekend, Neuvillette didn’t make any contact with you. No visit to your desk, not even a note. You had expected it, of course. The Chief Justice was a busy man with his mind preoccupied with matters that were far more important than you. He had probably forgotten all about you. If you were honest, you were a little bit disappointed, but at least this would make for a fun story to tell, right?

Not that you told anyone about it. You weren’t even sure how to explain it.

On Friday, just as you were thinking of pursuing another hobby, preferably within the city, the Melusine who worked at the front desk, Sedene, delivered a note to you.

“Hello there, [Name],” the short Melusine said as she approached you, holding a folded piece of paper in her hand. “I have a message here from Monsieur Neuvillette.”

You almost thought you misheard. You looked around to see if there was anyone else near you, but you were the only one in the office. It was Friday, and everyone had vacated the Palais Mermonia as soon as the clock struck the end of the work day.

“Um…from Monsieur Neuvillette, you say?” you asked. “It’s really from him? And for me?”

“Who else would it be from?” Sedene tilted her head to the side. “He told me that you would be expecting it. Although, I was also surprised when he asked me to do this. I don’t think he’s ever delivered a handwritten note to a human before.”

Oh, great. Does that mean he’s actually expecting something from me? Your palms were getting sweaty, but you accepted the note. “Thank you, Sedene.”

After the Melusine left, you opened the note. It contained a location written in elegant handwriting. Neuvillette was asking you to go to the mountains north of the city.

Well, it seemed that your fate was sealed. So much for relaxing outside of work.

That was what you thought back then, but to your surprise, weekends with Neuvillette were actually pretty…enjoyable?

Every Friday, he would send a note with a location. You would go there with your painting supplies, greet him, and start painting.

Although you still felt somewhat bitter about having to pick out a nice and respectable outfit even when you weren’t at work, you had to admit, Neuvillette really did know the best spots for painting.

The gray mountains capped with snow, the rolling fields of green dotted with flowers and rustic-looking houses, even the sinister and creepy-looking Elynas. For a lifelong city dweller like you, these sights were just as awe-inspiring and breathtaking as what you imagined the soaring peaks of Liyue or the lush green jungles of Sumeru to be like.

With these sceneries and your empty canvas before you, the urge to jump into the act of creation almost overpowered your nervousness.

There wasn't much talking done during these sessions, just you trying your best to depict what you saw with the tools you had at hand. Neuvillette would simply stand there, gazing off into the distance. Sometimes, you would sneak a glance at his profile to see if anything changed. It never did, or if it did, you were too slow to catch it. You never felt his gaze on you while you were painting, but it didn't feel like he was ignoring you. It felt more like he was trying to be considerate towards you as you were working.

It was hard to figure out how long you should take to finish your paintings. On one hand, you didn't want to take up too much of his time (nor your own), but on the other hand, taking too little time to take in the view and focus on your artwork felt disrespectable. You had to keep reminding yourself that this was your leisure time, so you should take however long you please, and anyway, Neuvillette was the one who always stayed there after you left.

Once you were done your painting, you would show it to him, and he would compliment it. You didn't know where he was getting those compliments from and had the suspicion that his ability to appreciate art was tragically askew. But somehow, his words sounded genuine. Though you felt not a little pressure to improve each and every week, hearing his kind words made you walk into work with a little more spring in your step.

Your weekends with Neuvillette weren't something you exactly looked forward to with anticipation, but they were never the worst part of your week.

It felt a bit dramatic to call it a double life…but it really did feel like one.

During the week, you were just one of many ordinary office workers diligently working at their desks, unnoticed by those above you, much less the Chief Justice (well, now that you knew that he knew your work, it suddenly felt like there was a heavy gaze upon you). But on the weekend, you were…well, an amateur painter who somehow got taken under the wing of Monsieur Neuvillette himself.

You haven't told anyone about him, not even your best friend. Something about telling people about what you do on the weekends felt wrong, almost scandalous, even though it was nothing of the sort. You didn't want to deal with a barrage of questions, and what if those reporters from the Steambird found out?

It was scary how something could become an unremarkable, normal part of a routine once you done it enough times. For you, it didn't take long before you were comfortable enough to sit with your legs spread slightly apart or mumble to yourself as you mixed colors. While you were still somewhat nervous dealing with him, and you definitely wouldn't call you and Neuvillette friends, you no longer felt like a small mouse trying its best to take up the least amount of space as possible in the fear of being noticed by the cat.

As for your painting skills...well, improvement was a slow and steady thing.

Neuvillette was as inscrutable as ever, but you were beginning to learn how to read him.

The weather wasn't good today. It wasn't raining, but the skies were covered in gray clouds. Furthermore, Neuvillette was unhappy. You had no idea why, and he wasn't giving any explanation. You were ninety percent sure it had nothing to do with you, since he had already been like this when you got here. But still, you could feel waves of moroseness coming off from him, and it was affecting your work.

After hearing a small, nearly imperceptible sigh issue from his lips, you decided to pluck up the courage and ask him what was bothering him. Hey, I'm showing initiative here, aren't I? You attempted to give yourself a pep talk.

"Um, excuse me, Monsieur Neuvillette," you begin, trying to inject the right amount of politeness and concern into your voice. "I can't help but notice that there is something on your mind..."

Neuvillette turned at your voice. There was surprise in his eyes, like he hadn't expected you to ask about him.

"My apologies. I didn't know my mood was affecting you. Please, feel free to disregard me."

"Oh, it doesn't bother me at all," you half-lied. "I'm just worried that you're not enjoying yourself, sir."

"My enjoyment shouldn't be a cause of concern for you. You only need to focus on your painting while you are here."

"But I shouldn't be the only one having a good time. This is your rest day as well."

"Please, [Name], there is no need to worry about me. Your enjoyment is my--"

"Monsieur Neuvillette, please tell me what's bothering you! I really want to know!" you unconsciously raised your voice, then immediately clapped your hands to your mouth upon realizing what you had done. "Oh Archons, I'm so sorry."

There was a short silence after you said that.

Crap, crap, crap.

He's going to push me into the waters and then I'm going to sink to the bottom and become fish food-

"It's the water here." His calm voice broke through your panicked thoughts. "It leaves much to be desired. I felt upset for bringing you to such an unfit place to paint."

"The...water?" you looked around. This weekend, Neuvillette took you to a small island near Romaritime Harbor. The water here was sapphire-blue and clear, just like the water everywhere in Fontaine. "I don't really see what's wrong with it..."

"Let me show you." A silver cup suddenly appeared in Neuvillette's hand. Where did that come from?

He scooped up some water in the cup and swirled it, then showed it to you. It looked like...extremely pure water.

"Do you see how different this water is from the location we visited last weekend? The scent, the texture, and..." he took a sip of the water before your incredulous eyes, then grimaced. "The taste. All of it is utterly subpar."

He then went on a rant about how water was different in different places. He must have been bottling this up, because he kept talking for about ten minutes. You had never seen him talk so animatedly before. It was honestly pretty refreshing, even though you had no idea what he was talking about. So, you just kept nodding and saying "uh huh" at the appropriate moments.

"Um...if you say so, sir. Although, I think this place is just as lovely as all the other places you've brought me to," you said after he finally concluded.

He stared at you for a moment, then shook his head. "No, not at all. You deserve only the best."

Your cheeks warmed. Did he really just say that!?

"Next week, I will take you to a far more beautiful place," he said solemnly. He raised his hand awkwardly, hesitantly, then placed it on your shoulder. "I promise."

You could still feel the weight of his hand on his shoulder even after you returned to work on Monday.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette #my works #painter series

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crazybutgood · 2 years

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Day 1 (phoebe-delia)

The first gift is dedicated to @phoebe-delia from @basicallyahedgehog! Please click on the images for better quality and view the video for the quotes inside the book 😊:

Images’ description: in the image on the left, there’s a closed green origami book with ‘phoebe’ written on the front cover in cursive in black ink. In the image on the right, the book is opened to show its pages and the cactus origami bookmark.

Video description: the full cactus bookmark is shown. The book is flipped through to display the quotes handwritten in cursive in blue ink from Phoebe’s fics. The quotes shown here are also typed out below the cut.

Phoebe, here’s Georgie’s fic rec and message to you!:

Pheebs, my musical-loving, Drarry and Jeddy shipping, glee love-hating, Swiftie brain twin. I do not have the words for just how much you mean to me. In just a few short months you have become not only an incredible friend, but truly a little sister.

Your all-caps tags and discord messages never fail to make my day, and I know that I will always have someone in my corner with you around. I’m not exaggerating when I say that I would 100000000% fight someone for you, and would gladly jump on a plane to do so.

You are truly a one of a kind friend, and I am so so incredibly grateful for you. I love you to the edges of the universe and back.

To quote a certain cactus, “I want to see how many times I can bring unexpected joy into your life.” (Life’s like an hourglass glued to the table)

funny how those memories, they last (T, 2154) (Teddy/James, background Draco/Harry)

“Name’s Teddy Lupin. I’m Andromeda’s grandson. Your dad hired me to lend a hand on the ranch.”

James shook himself, mind whirring with vague memories of his dad mentioning some family friend who was a cousin of Draco’s. He hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, and he assumed Teddy was, well, a child. Not some blue-haired, smirking suave sex god with dimples and an endearingly crooked nose who just waltzed into the kitchen with his tight jeans and sweaty shirt and opened the fridge like he lived here, while James stood there in a ratty t-shirt and boxers with snitches on them.

I had the absolute pleasure of watching this fic come to life, and it will never not bring me joy. Confident, ranch hand Teddy and awkward, sweet James? Yes please. Throw in a side of hot rancher Harry and matchmaker Draco, and this fic is the perfect feel-good read, as is its gorgeous sequel.

Go leave some love for Phoebe on this fic, and check out her ao3 here! Book’s quotes and corresponding fics are below the cut:

this is me trying (T, 12k)

1. We all have our struggles and reasons for them. What’s important is that we take the steps we can every day to make them better.

2. “Ah, yes, the ceremonial bread exchange which must begin any fledgling friendship.”

3. “Well, yes, but my point is that maybe we weren’t who we each needed to be, yet, in order to become friends.”

sweet dreams of holly and ribbon (T, 1227)

Draco, usually so serious and buttoned-up, approached each tree with childlike wonder, and the sight of him so happy and uninhibited made Harry’s heart clench with something he usually tried to suppress.

all i need is you next to me (T, 749) (Jeddy)

"I play with balls for a living, Ted, with other young, sweaty, fit men."

Be Mine: Phoebe's Candy Hearts, Chapter 6 (T) (fem!Drarry)

“I’m so in love with you I can taste it,”

funny how those memories, they last (T, 2154) (Jeddy, background Drarry)

James nodded, leaning in to kiss him. Above them, the stars twinkled with hope.

Come Back, Be Here (T, 834) (Jeddy)

when I was away, whenever I thought of home, I didn’t think of the ranch or the cabin or the horses or the Burrow. I thought of you

#book 1 #gifted to #phoebe-delia #from #basicallyahedgehog #author appreciation origami project #cbg folds #origami #mine #fic rec #jeddy #drarry #fem!Drarry #harry potter

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jadeee · 2 years

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jade's journal giveaway

to celebrate the finale of vendetta, starring the one and only nicky valentino, i'm giving away all of my rough drafts and notes for the series. i'll also be giving away plenty of other rough drafts and notes for other characters including howie yan from fictif's roadkill and julian devorak from the arcana.

⚠️ contestants must consider the ratings for each fic/hc since some content contains swearing, violence, and sexual content. if you select any content containing such material (for example: "let's get out of here", nicky valentino) you must be 18 or older. If you don't have your age in your bio, you can message it to me.

what is it?

in this giveaway, 3 people will win original, handwritten copies of various fanfiction works and headcanons. you'll see lots of scribbled notes in the margins and even an omitted scene from vendetta. hopefully, you can read my handwriting.

who will i read about?

i only have rough drafts for nicky valentino, howie yan, and julian devorak. i also have notes for my arcana oc who i don't plan on writing for/about, if you'd want these just lmk when you enter the giveaway.

which fics/hcs are we talkin about?

nicky: about 8 chapters of vendetta {all vendetta notes & rough drafts will be given away as an entire package}, good morning beautiful, finding home, winter wonderland, hot & bothered*, we have to be professional* {i continued 'we have to be professional' on the back of the last pg for 'hot & bothered', so they're together}, let's get out of here, midnight, teaching mc italian, w/ an mc who doesn't drink, after fighting w/ mc, w/ an mc who has trouble sleeping, cheating, mc w/ who cusses a lot

howie: i'm not acting, random things about howie, howie as a boyfriend {all of these are on a continuous page so they're not separate pgs}

julian: letter to mc, don't leave me

when is it?

september 9th - november 11th

how can i enter?

#1. reblog 3 - 5 of your favorite fanfics and/or headcanons of the following characters I've written for - nicky, howie, and julian using the tag #justjadesjournal

#2. for each reblog, comment your favorite line or scene and why it's your favorite

#3. out of the 22 rough drafts/notes i'm giving away, pick 5 - 7 you'd really want and why

#4. tell me smthn you want to do but haven't done yet

#justjadesjournal #nicky valentino #fictif nicky #howie yan #fictif howie #julian devorak #the arcana julian #madebyjade

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nightscapepersona · 1 year

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Fly V to the Moon - Ch. 27

“The one where he wants to be where she is”

Aaaaand... this is the end of Part 1 of Fly V to the Moon. I’ve decided to split this journey into two parts, as we have come a long way, but there’s still so much I have left to write. I think these 27 chapters can stand well on their own, as they tell the journey of Lia and our Tae coming together. But! There’s more to the story! Some of my favorite future chapters have not been written yet. I’ll announce Part 2 soon, but in the meantime, enjoy these 27 little things. Twenty-seven chapters for our almost 27 year-old. Every like and every read you’ve given to this little piece of my heart has genuinely, truthfully, sincerely meant a lot! :) Thank you for flying to the moon with us.

Pairing: Taehyung x OFC

Genre: Fluff, Idol AU, Coffee Shop AU, Café Singer OFC, Slow Burn

Warnings: Light swearing, but it’s all for banter. Again, this is fluff.

Word count: 2.2k (Usually short chapters!)

Recommended Songs: Christmas Tree — V; Easy Love — Pentatonix; Sunflower — Harry Styles; Fly Me to the Moon — covered by Suhyun; L.O.V.E. — covered by Suhyun .

Summary: She’s a foreign elementary school teacher by day, a charming singer by night. Taehyung and company discover her at a small garden jazz café where she had a gig one night, only to find out from Jin that she was an arts teacher at a local school in Seoul — Jin's nephew and niece’s teacher, in fact. Taehyung finds himself on a surprise adventure to the moon.

Masterlist

✻ ✻ ✻

Fly V to the Moon — by Nightscape Persona

Chapter 27: The one where he wants to be where she is

It was the day of the Winter Farewell Show.

A Friday in the second week of March.

Showtime was drawing near by the minute, and Lia was doing what you’re supposed to before a show: wait and try to calm down.

That day they had been waiting in a small ward across the terrace. Across the garden on the compound of the café that had been recently refurbished. Though most of it had been adapted as a gallery and private rooms for distinguished guests, a ward had been kept as a dressing room for invited artists.

Funnily enough, as soon as she’d walked into the café earlier that afternoon, she had been notified of a gift awaiting her in the dressing room.

An arrangement of flowers.

A bouquet of sinuous shimmer roses, apricot peonies, and peach carnations, adorned with fluffy bunny tail grass.

An exquisite bouquet with a small card attached to it that bore a message from none other than…

Taehyung (HeR bOyfRiEnD).

It was not handwritten by him, but it was heartfelt.

Since I cannot be where you are.

—V

She had gone bananas internally. Her bandmates had gone bananas externally, and she had no other choice but to tell them. That he’d sent the flowers, of course.

Not anything else. She still hadn’t told them about what happened after their date. All they knew was that it went very well. No one knew they’d met again. Not even Jihyo knew they were now on official terms. She wasn’t sure it was a good idea to let so many people into their little thing yet. Or ever perhaps. Even if they were as see-through as glass.

So that’s as far as she’d told them, that he’d sent the flowers.

And they went even more bananas.

She too was over the moon and floating on helium, but a little thorn threatened to spike into her balloon whenever she had to say that no, he wouldn’t make it to the show. The balloon also threatened to fly her higher and higher whenever they teased her about it, because, yes, her boyfriend had sent her flowers and she was giddy as fuck.

Anyways. That had been over an hour earlier.

It was now twenty minutes till three in the afternoon of a warm-ish Friday in the second week of a thawing March. The rush of adrenaline before a new show was settling in, and Lia was trying to assuage her nerves.

She was currently caressing the meanders of a carnation flower as she quietly sang one song.

“And I’ll tell you…”

Focused on the pretty flower and her thoughts. On the song—his song—that spoke, amusingly, of thoughts thought by her.

Focused on the person it brought back memories of.

“A million little reasons...”

Too focused to hear the half-muffled expression uttered by her bandmate.

“Oh my go—!”

Muffled as if something covered her mouth. Or something. Perhaps a hand.

Typical banter among the band.

The door creaked shut as feet shuffled around it.

“I’m falling for your eyes.”

Still, she continued singing. She was used to the noise and the quiet and the going and coming before a show. And she had nerves to dampen, so she paid them no mind.

“I just want to be where you are.”

What took her out of the reverie of sinuate petals and the soft song and warm thoughts was someone clearing his throat right behind her.

Someone she immediately recognized.

But it couldn’t be.

Her finger stopped tracing the flower.

The room was absolutely silent. Like everybody else had left, which was normal.

Except for the sound of gentle breathing behind her.

No.

It couldn’t be.

“Then it’s good I made it to where you are.”

No way.

Lia turned around in a heartbeat to his tall figure clad in brown before the door, a grin plastered on his face.

“What—but what—how—you’re—?”

Such eloquence.

“What are you doing here? Oh my god!”

She ran across the tiny room, and much to her dismay, he pulled her into a bear hug, belly laughing at her astonishment, as her voice went higher and higher.

You’d think they’d know each other for years, judging from how Taehyung had enfolded her inside his arms so tightly, almost crushing her, and how she had wrapped her own arms around his torso in response, zero resistance, happily letting herself be swayed from side to side by him, cheeks squished against his shoulder. A waft of his cologne hit her right in the face. One more thing she didn’t need to feel absolutely intoxicated.

She could stay there forever, you know. But she was in disbelief and required to know how his act of presence was even possible.

She broke off the hug, though still very much clinging to Taehyung, ogling him with eyes of wonder.

“How—you’re here—how is this possible?”

His eyes mirrored her merriment.

“Are you not supposed to be in—across the world?”

They were so close. She could see the mole below his eye as he shrugged.

“Well, we had a gap in our schedules and I asked if I could run away for a few hours.”

She just gawked at him. He was not a holo, but he seemed like one. As if she blinked, the illusion would disappear.

“So here I am.”

She was in pure disbelief.

“For a few hours.”

That was more than enough.

His face was only centimeters away. His face, which was very much real, and very much there right in front of her. Her hands wanted to cup his cheeks, and she let them.

His eyes glinted at her touch.

“Are you crazy?”

A mellow laughter.

“Maybe. But I couldn’t miss this. Seeing you on your favorite show yet.”

She ignored the awareness in her brain that he’d flown halfway across the world for a few hours to see her. She ignored it or she would go as insane as he was for doing such a thing.

“My flight leaves at 4.”

He was there. So close.

Irradiating heat. Gazing at her. Beaming at her. Holding her.

“4 in the morning?”

She took notice of his rosewood lips.

“Yes.”

His own eyes trailed over hers, mimicking her, like an echo.

She felt compelled to kiss him.

She was frozen in place—because of disbelief or excitement or nervousness or his handsome face being only inches away or his arms all around her, or everything at once—, but she felt an irresistible force begging her to kiss him.

So she did.

As scared of someone walking into the room as she was. Of someone seeing them all up in each other’s square meter. Her hands cradling his cheeks. His hands cradling her waist.

She unthawed the rest of her body into movement and made her face budge towards his face.

He leaned to meet her in the middle.

Like petals.

Soft.

Smooth.

Carnations.

Just a brush.

It was just a peck.

But it made her stupidly giddy.

When their lips parted ways, turning to smiles against each other, she was surprised by their softness pressing against her temple. Which made her grow shy even if she was smitten by it.

It was all very new, that sort of affection.

She was loving it, but still could only look down at the ground. His eyes followed hers down.

He immediately took notice of her shirt, his grin increasing in radiance by a thousand suns.

Yes, she had chosen to wear his Monet shirt for that gig.

“You’re actually wearing it!”

He walked back to look at her, stretching her arms, but not letting go of her hands.

“How could I not! It’s just in time for spring!”

He laughed.

Someone knocked on the door, taking them out of their little moment.

They dropped out of each other’s hands. For good measure.

“Teeeeen minutes for the shoooow!”

Gayeon.

They waited to see if she would come in. Apprehension in their faces. The door didn’t open.

“I should go grab my seat,” he said, shifting his feet towards the door.

A matter wandered through Lia’s brain.

“Taehyung.”

“Yes?,” his eyes turned to Lia, interest piqued by her serious tone.

“It’s better if no one sees us, right? To keep it between as few people as possible. Isn’t it?”

He sighed, but nodded.

“Well. Yes. Of course. For our privacy,” he pointed his finger between them. “But if you trust them, I don’t see why you shouldn’t tell your band.”

He moved his hand to tuck a curl of hair behind her ear.

“Okay.”

He smiled then.

“I’ll see you then.”

She gestured towards the bouquet.

“Thank you for the—.”

His eyes widened.

“Oh! I almost forgot!”

He started patting around his coat, quite earnestly. Quite comically.

Lia was giggling now.

After some searching, he retrieved a small pearl card from a pocket inside the coat.

“Aha.”

Taehyung held it up triumphantly and handed it to Lia, ceremoniously. His own way of dealing with nerves, she supposed.

“Pretend it came with the bouquet. I wanted the card to be handwritten, but that would have been impossible, you know, given that I ordered it from another continent entirely and all.”

She turned it over.

I just want to be where you are.

“But since I’m here now.”

She looked at him, fondness welling up inside her chest and hummingbirds fluttering around her belly.

His eyes were puddles of warmth, and she could get lost inside them. Fall inside them, just like Alice down the rabbit hole. She’d never stop falling for his eyes.

But someone knocked on the door again.

“Hello! I’m coming in!”

Jimin.

Of course.

The door opened a little bit.

“They told me to tell you it’s minus six minutes now,” Jimin smiled, peeking through the gap. “Hi!”

Lia giggled as she greeted him, sort of sheepish, sort of happy to see Taehyung had not come alone. Jimin walked in and went straight for a hug. A gentle hug that said many things.

“It’s nice to see you,” he said sweetly, letting go. “But I have to take your lovebird with me so you can go do your show now.”

He winked as he started to drag Taehyung outside of the room.

“Wait, wait, wait!,” Taehyung squawked.

“Okay, you have five seconds,” Jimin turned towards the corridor.

Taehyung rushed across the room to give Lia one more hug. She stopped him in his tracks and pecked his cheek.

“Thank you for the flowers!,” Lia said hurriedly, “I truly love them! And thank you for coming! I know it was—.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

“Aw,” Jimin added from the tiny hall.

She was blushing, she was sure.

“Good luck!,” he said.

“I love you!”

The words just poured out of her mouth like petals, easily, and his eyes sparkled at them.

“And thank you too, Jimin!”

Jimin came back to drag Taehyung out of the dressing room for real.

Lia pulled Taehyung in for a quick hug one last time before he was ushered away. His cologne hit her senses like a truck one more time.

“Sure! Happy to see you! See you after. You—”

He clasped Taehyung by the arm as he hurried to send her a flying kiss before he disappeared through the door, both men giggling like idiots.

. . .

The show was a blur.

A blur of colors apricot and tangerine and cantaloupe and punch. Like the flower installations hanging and swiveling and swaying all around the café. Like the bouquet waiting in the other room. Like the afternoon colors gleaming in the sky above the garden.

A blur of songs about sunflowers and easy love and a little million reasons to fall in love with someone.

A blur of carnations and petal lips and bear hugs and hands cradling her face.

She was ecstatic, and it had truly been one of her favorite shows until then. In part for the occasion, their repertoire, of course, but mostly due to the surprise. A fever dream.

All throughout the show she had glanced at the little low lit corner where he was, on the other side of the garden, and she couldn't help to feel that if she blinked, he would disappear in a heartbeat. But he didn’t.

He had come.

A blur of words he’d said two weeks ago started echoing inside her mind.

But I will make time for you. If that’s what you’re asking.

He’d made time. He came.

I’ll try every time I can.

He had the chance to come, and he took it.

I will always pull through for you because I believe this is worth it.

All she’d asked was for him to care, and she would be there, no grudges to promises he couldn’t make nor keep. She didn’t expect… this. She didn’t expect this level of commitment (though it’s also called having money, cause those private jets sure ain’t cheap, you kno—shut up, Lia).

Here he was, coming through. Here he was on the first of many times where he would show her he cared. He had stayed true to those words, those little promises.

And so he would continue to do. That was what they would grow to have, an easy love, like the drip drop of water off old tile roofs after a monsoon.

She could see now the place he had made for her in the equation of his life.

And fireworks burst inside her chest.

Thus they said farewell to winter and welcomed spring.

New beginnings.

✻ ✻ ✻

Masterlist

✻ ✻ ✻

All chapters: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7 — Chapter 8 — Chapter 9 — Chapter 10 — Chapter 11 — Chapter 12 — Chapter 13 — Chapter 14 — Chapter 15 — Chapter 16 — Chapter 17 — Chapter 18 — Chapter 19 — Chapter 20 — Chapter 21 — Chapter 22 — Chapter 23 — Chapter 24 — Chapter 25 — Chapter 26 — Chapter 27 — Update on Part 2 — Part 2 Preview

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fluff #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fluff #taehyung #taehyung x ofc #taehyung x oc #v #v fluff #v x oc #v x ofc #bts jazz #bts slow burn #bts idol au #bts coffee shop au #bts x ofc #coffee shop au

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deancaskiss · 2 years

Note

hiii bex jasmine<3 positivity anon✨ here to spread some love and cheer! you are such a valued member of this fandom and your writing is so beautiful and brings so much joy to people! your fluffy deancas fics are so sweet and tender and we are so grateful to have you here sharing your work with us! now i want you to pick three of your top favorite things you've made or if you can't pick of all time (because there are SO many good ones) then 3 recent creations and tell us something you love about them<3 hope you have a wonderful day!✨

hiiiii positivity anon 💖 thank you for spreading love and cheer! this message absolutely made my sunday <3 literally this is going to make me cry i swear. my heart is quite literally going to burst. thank you from the bottom of my heart for saying i’m a valued member of the fandom and that you think my writing is beautiful and brings joy to people. that’s honestly the only thing i could ever hope for… and the fact you think all those things just means more than i can ever say. thank you, thank you, thank you! I just honestly still cannot fathom that there’s people out there that like my lil fluffy fics, like I genuinely am still shocked and surprised every single time someone like you says they like them. thank you <3 wishing you an amazing week! (Also crying all over again that you thought that so many of my fics are good adhashfdasdhf 🥹)

okay, okay, god. this is harder than i thought to pick my top 3 creations. mostly because my brain wants to view my past creations in a negative light, but for you, dear positivity anon, i shall think positively.

1) the more you love a memory - my regarding!dean fic. this fic is my pride and joy. my one true love. I’ve never been more proud of a fic than i am of this one. this idea was something i’d wanted to write for like a year prior to actually creating the fic, and i binge wrote the fic in just over a week while i was on thanksgiving vacation. I adored writing every word of this story, and i still love it today. I loved writing Cas into this episode and being able to add my fluffy spin to it and to have dean fall in love with cas all over again. I loved the back and forth POV and having cas just fall even more in love with dean just melted my heart. I love this story, and I’m so happy to have been able to share it with you all.

2) tinsel and tourists - my hallmark destiel au! one of the only successful multi-chapter fics i’ve written. this story captures everything i love to write and the classic cliche hallmark movie fits so perfectly with my writing style! I also wrote this story in the middle of my second year of vet school, which was the most academically challenging year (and the most intense semester) and I still managed to write and post a chapter every single day for this story. it has all my favorite cute fluffy moments! meet-cutes and first kisses and cute dates! but it was also the first time i also mixed it with a ‘monster of the week’ where i created a monster for dean and sam to hunt too. i loved writing this story!

3) handwritten poems/letters - this is my magnum opus of poetry. actually I’m pretty sure this was like a stroke of luck and a one hit wonder because i’ve never written a poem like this again and no one has ever loved any of my other poems i’ve posted lately as much as this one. but this poem really was special. something about poetry… it’s the place I can pour heartbreak and angst and pain and ache. All my writing is fluffy and soft and happy. But poetry is where I can release all these other emotions. And this poem really captured that. Each moment Dean lost Cas. the pain and heartbreak as Dean worked through his emotions. The ache as Dean realizes he’s in love with Cas, but it was always too late. I love this poem and the style of it and everything about it.

#asked and answered #anon #this ask was everything #it was so sweet and lovely #sharing positivity was something i really needed #and this just made me appreciate my writing #thank you so much #nonnie i love you #<3333 #positivity anon

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longdistanceromance · 5 months

Text

Fun and romantic cute long distance ideas for couples

Discover the magic of maintaining a strong bond over miles with these cute long distance ideas for couples. From virtual dates to surprise snail mail, these creative gestures will infuse fun and romance into your long-distance relationship, turning the distance into an opportunity for unique connections.

Virtual date nights

Long-distance relationships can be challenging, especially when it comes to spending quality time with your partner. However, with virtual date nights, you can bridge the distance and create special moments together. Whether you're in a long-distance relationship or simply looking for cute ideas to connect with your loved one, here are some virtual date night ideas to keep the romance alive.

1. Cook and Dine Together

Choose a recipe that you both love and cook it together virtually. Set up your devices in the kitchen and follow the same steps, sharing laughs and culinary tips along the way. Once the meal is ready, light some candles, set the table, and enjoy a romantic dinner date together, even if you're miles apart.

2. Movie Night

Pick a movie or a TV show that you both want to watch and synchronize your streaming platforms. Set up a video call, grab your favorite snacks, and get cozy under blankets. You can even create a virtual movie theater atmosphere by dimming the lights and using a projector. Discuss the plot and share your reactions to make it feel like you're watching together.

3. Game Night

Challenge each other to a virtual game night. There are countless online multiplayer games available that you can play together, such as trivia, word games, or even virtual reality experiences. Take turns choosing the games and enjoy some friendly competition while laughing and bonding.

4. DIY Craft Date

Plan a creative virtual date where you both engage in DIY crafts. Choose a project that you can work on simultaneously, like painting, knitting, or making personalized gifts for each other. Show off your artistic skills, share ideas, and create something meaningful together, even if you're physically apart.

5. Virtual Tours

Embark on a virtual adventure by taking a tour of famous museums, landmarks, or cities together. Many attractions offer virtual tours that you can experience from the comfort of your own home. Explore art galleries, historical sites, or natural wonders while sharing interesting facts and stories with your partner.

6. Book Club

Choose a book that you both want to read and establish a virtual book club. Set a reading schedule and have regular discussions about the chapters you've read. This not only allows you to bond over shared interests but also stimulates intellectual conversations.

These are just a few ideas to inspire your virtual date nights. The key is to be creative, make an effort, and prioritize quality time together. Remember, even though you may be physically separated, your love and connection can still thrive through these virtual experiences.

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Cute long distance ideas: Surprise care packages

Surprise care packages are a wonderful way to show someone you care, especially when they are far away. Sending cute care packages to loved ones in long-distance relationships or friendships can bring joy and warmth, even when you can't be physically together. These thoughtful gestures can help bridge the distance and make your loved ones feel special and appreciated.

When it comes to creating surprise care packages, the key is to tailor them to the recipient's interests and preferences. Consider their hobbies, favorite treats, and unique quirks to make the care package extra special and personalized. Adding small, thoughtful items that remind them of shared memories or inside jokes can also make the care package even more meaningful.

For cute long-distance ideas, you can include items like handwritten letters or cards filled with heartfelt messages. These personal touches can convey your love and care in a way that technology can't replicate. You can also include small tokens of affection, such as a keychain with a special message, a cozy blanket, or a photo album filled with cherished photos.

If your loved one has a sweet tooth, consider adding their favorite snacks or candies. You can also include small, non-perishable treats like homemade cookies, chocolate bars, or their preferred type of tea or coffee. Including a small scented candle or bath products can also create a soothing and relaxing experience for them.

Another cute idea is to include a surprise gift or activity that you can enjoy together, even from a distance. For example, you can include a puzzle, a board game, or a book that you can both read and discuss. This not only provides a source of entertainment but also strengthens your bond.

When assembling the surprise care package, make sure to package it securely to ensure that everything arrives intact. Consider using colorful wrapping paper or ribbons to make the package visually appealing and exciting to open. Adding a handwritten note or a personalized message on the outside can add an extra touch of love.

Overall, surprise care packages are a wonderful way to express your love and care for someone who is far away. It shows them that distance doesn't diminish your connection and that you are thinking of them. So, go ahead and create a cute care package that will bring a smile to your loved one's face and let them know how much they mean to you.

youtube

Love letters and handwritten notes

Love letters and handwritten notes have long been cherished expressions of affection, especially for couples in a long-distance relationship. These heartfelt messages not only convey your love and devotion but also serve as a tangible reminder of your connection. If you're looking for cute long-distance ideas to keep the romance alive, incorporating love letters and handwritten notes is a beautiful way to do so.

When you're physically apart, receiving a love letter can make your partner feel close to you. The effort and thought put into writing a heartfelt letter demonstrates your commitment and dedication. Take the time to express your feelings, reminisce about precious memories, and share your hopes and dreams for the future. In this digital age, receiving a handwritten note holds a special significance and brings a sense of nostalgia and intimacy.

Get creative with your love letters and handwritten notes by adding personal touches. Sprinkle a few drops of your favorite perfume or cologne on the paper, include small mementos like pressed flowers or a photo of the two of you, or even write the letter on cute stationery. These little details can make the experience even more memorable and meaningful.

Another cute long-distance idea is to surprise your partner with a series of handwritten notes. Hide these love letters in different places they are likely to find throughout the day, such as in their wallet, in their favorite book, or even inside their lunchbox. Each note can contain a sweet message, an inside joke, or a reminder of your love. This thoughtful gesture will constantly remind them of your affection and keep the spark alive.

Additionally, you can plan surprise deliveries of handwritten letters or cute notes. Whether it's a handwritten love letter sent through traditional mail or a small card delivered through a local courier, receiving unexpected mail from you will surely brighten your partner's day. This gesture not only shows your love but also makes them feel special and valued.

Love letters and handwritten notes have the power to bridge the distance between two hearts. They provide a personal and intimate connection, reminding your partner that they are always on your mind and in your heart. So, take the time to express your love through the written word and let the magic of love letters bring you closer even when you're far apart.

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Conclusion

Incorporating these cute long distance ideas into your relationship toolkit ensures that love knows no bounds. Embrace the charm of shared experiences, keeping the flame of romance alive across any distance, making your journey together truly unforgettable.

#long distance relationship #long distance #relationship #love #Youtube

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mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Fake Fiancée - Part 3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader and Spencer write letters back and forth, both of them slowly starting to fall in deeper. Category: Smut (18+) Content Warnings: Strong language, sexual themes, masturbation (male and female), sexting, face sitting Word Count: 6.3k

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Hello!! Sorry this has been so long in the making, but for a while my inspiration for this story absolutely disappeared, and then I tried to think of how to bridge the previous chapters to the final one with absolutely no luck. And then I re-read Part 2 and got stuck on the letter, thus this chapter was born! I didn’t want to drag this miniseries out any longer than 4 parts, and the letter format combined with other inner monologuing and description really allowed me to do that in an interesting way that hopefully doesn’t feel rushed!

It was so much fun and very refreshing to write. I hope you like how it turned out!

Thank you all for being so patient while I get my shit together 😅 Love you guys! Enjoy 🥰

***

We've been sending letters back and forth for about a month now.

If I'm being honest, it took me about two weeks to decide whether or not I actually wanted to send one back, but could you blame me?

Here was this guy I couldn't stop thinking about after a one-night stand, only for him to catch me—months later at the same exact bar we'd met in—flirting with his friend. And then after our sexual encounter that night, all the things we said, the connection I thought we had, all of it...

He left it all behind the next morning, only to send me a letter in the mail.

I was pissed.

Sure, it was a nice letter, but the fact that he'd reduced what we had down to a piece of paper and scribbled ink had made me angrier than I cared to admit.

In retrospect, I may have overreacted.

Over time I started re-reading his words, and the more I thought about it all, the more I started to regret my anger. And more than anything, I just wanted to see him again. I couldn't stay mad at him, not when all I could picture was his pouty face and nervous hands. His sunbeam of a smile peeked through the clouds of my anger here and there, and the longer it settled, the more it bathed me in a warm light that should have made me happy. But all it did was make me long for him.

Once I'd actually started writing that first letter back, I wondered why I hadn't jumped on the opportunity in the first place. I mean, after all the cliché shit we'd experienced in our short relationship thus far, adding love letters to the mix was just as perfect as you could get, right?

Spencer,

I'm sorry it's taken me this long to finally write you back. Truthfully I wasn't sure I wanted to write you at all, but your letter kept drawing me back in. I couldn't stop re-reading it, imagining you sitting down somewhere and contemplating every word as you wrote them down. I wondered if you'd thrown out hundreds of pieces of paper after messing up when you could have just as well typed out a letter without wasting them.

And then by that point, all I could think about was just you.

I always pictured what your living room looks like, or your kitchen table, or your office, or wherever you sit down to write. I wondered if you looked like one of those hopeless writers in the movies that have a scruffy face, coffee stains on their white tee shirts, and messy hair that hasn't been washed in days due to lack of inspiration.

But in the end, the image that won out over all the others was just you as I remember.

I'm not going to lie, that image most of the time was your body above mine while I held my hand to your throat, but for the sake of romance I guess I should probably tell you what it was every other time— the outfit you were wearing the first time we met.

When I think of you, I think of your hand nervously clutching that beer bottle for dear life and the other one occasionally pushing your glasses up your nose. I think of your eyes every time they'd look away from me, probably to keep yourself from staring too long.

But the thing that always gets me the most is your smile— even when it comes in little flashes, after you've said something you probably thought was lame. You covered it up with that perfect smile.

I've dreamt of that smile nearly every night since I met you, and I wouldn't be opposed to seeing it in person again.

I'd love to meet you for dinner some time.

But since you did manage to "more or less abandon me twice now", I think it's only fair that you make it up to me first.

Make the next letter a good one, and we'll see what happens.

Yours, Y/N

P.S. I hope my handwriting is as pretty as you hoped. I'd hate to disappoint.

***

Y/N,

I'm incredibly grateful that you've given me a chance to redeem myself. Every night since I last saw you has also been spent wondering what your house looks like on the inside... What you looked like reading my letter (perhaps at your kitchen table?)

And this might sound silly, but I've also wondered what your bedroom looks like. You may be laughing at me, because I've been in your bedroom, but in my defense I was a bit preoccupied to really take notice of my surroundings— I was simply surrounded by you.

But since I've been to your home, I figured it was only fair that I invite you to mine, possibly for dinner. I don't know how to cook much— in fact I'm pretty awful at making anything that's not a can of Spaghetti-Os... But one of my co-workers is an excellent chef, and with a recipe from him and some practice under my belt, I'm sure I can pull it off.

But by "some" practice, I mean probably weeks or months of practice. So hopefully that gives you ample time to mull it over.

Perhaps in the meantime we can get to know each other through our letters. And who's to say, it might spare us the awkward "getting to know each other" stage of a first date. Though, pretty much every stage of every date is awkward for me, so it might not help at all.

Regardless, I'm very much looking forward to hearing from you again.

I do get called away for work quite often, however. So I apologize in advance if I can't get back to you as soon as I'd like.

But in any instance, you're still welcome to text message or call me. I know it isn't as romantic or personal as handwritten letters, but it's certainly practical.

Yours, Spencer.

P.S. Your handwriting is just as beautiful as I'd imagined it would be. And you could never disappoint me.

That being said, if you somehow decide that this letter wasn't up to your standards and reject my offer, I may just find myself in the deepest despair imaginable.

***

I was definitely way too in my head about this.

It was just a text. Sure, it was a risky text to send, but I had no doubt in my mind that it would be fine in the end.

So why was my stomach churning just thinking about sending it?

Some might have chalked it up to my fat ol' crush on Spencer, but I knew it ran deeper. It had to do at least a little with my history with Patrick... The man stood me up and sent divorce papers to my place of work rather than to my face... And as much as I liked to think I was completely over it, we'd been together for years, and it really did a number on me.

I didn't want to ruin this new thing with Spencer so badly that I was overthinking everything.

So even though I could see his face opening the text, my heart doing jumps at the mere thought of it, a bigger part of me worried that it would be a step too far in the wrong direction. I didn't want him to think I was only in this for... sexual reasons. Which, don't get me wrong, have been pretty damn great so far, but I really did want to get to know him and see where this went.

In the end I decided to hold off. I settled for something a little lighter.

Spencer,

Don't feel too bad about your cooking skills. I've been through my fair share of burnt frozen pizzas to know how you're feeling. So the fact that you've given yourself the opportunity to practice and learn a recipe just for me is extremely romantic, and I appreciate the thought.

I won't stop you from following through, though I'm telling you now that no amount of slaving away in the kitchen will make me change my mind about you. We could probably eat stale crackers on the floor and I'd still find you utterly fascinating.

Maybe that's a bit too extreme, but I hope you get my point.

Anyway, I'd love to come over for dinner some time. Whenever you think you're ready to show me those improved cooking skills, you just let me know and I'll happily make my way over.

In the meantime, I'm thinking of sending more with my letters. I don't want to give away too much, but I will say that I'm very crafty. And don't feel like you need to send anything in return, though I'll let you know if I ever change my mind.

Yours,

Y/N

***

In the bottom right corner of the letter, right next to her signature, was a red lipstick stain in the shape of... well, her lips. It was common sense to know that they were hers and no one else's, not just a stamp or a drawing, and rather her actual lip stain... But even without it, I would have been able to tell by their shape.

Was that pathetic?

I could hear her, picture her in front of me, hovering above me with red-painted lips in the shape of a smirk, visibly cooing as she called me names... I could feel the ghost of her fingertips trailing up my throat and tilting my chin up to look at her as she rocked her hips teasingly into mine...

The whine I let out truly was pathetic.

You pathetic, needy little thing, I could hear her say...

My hands clutched the paper so tightly I thought I'd tear it, but it didn't matter when all I could see while staring at it was her luscious, red lips... Her voice was right there in my ear, like she was really beside me, watching me...

Oh, God, what would she do if she saw me right now? Staring at her lipstick stained paper and subconsciously grinding down into my chair...

You pathetic, needy little thing...

My hips jolted with a small, broken shout of her name, and in no time the front of my pants were flooded with warmth. I felt her eyes burning into me from the void, sparking to life with amusement as her voice crept into the deep corners of my brain and whispered praises to me.

Ohh, what a good little whore... Getting off to the thought of me... That's it, sweet boy... Come for me...

By now my eyes had squeezed shut and the letter was crumpled in my hand, the other reaching down to add much-appreciated burning friction to my crotch as I rode out my orgasm. My whole body tensed and shuddered at every sensation, from Y/N's image behind my eyes to the sweet warmth that pooled in my underwear and soaked through onto my hand.

Holy mother of—

The next time I saw her, I was screwed. I wouldn't be able to keep a straight face. I'd surely go red the second I laid eyes on her, and she'd know right away what I was thinking and feeling.

Simply put, it scared and excited me at the same time.

She'd utterly and thoroughly wrecked me, and if she didn't already know it, she certainly would soon.

Y/N,

I'm not sure what you intend to send in addition to your letters, but if it's anything near the sentiment of your lip stain, then you might have to refrain in favor of my poor, fragile heart.

See, it aches for you. It's bad enough I think of you always, but the moment I saw the shape of your lips on that letter, my heart almost shot straight out of my chest. Maybe it was the familiar shape of your lips or the implications of its place next to your name, signed after the word 'yours', that sent me into a tailspin, but whatever the case...

I'm pretty sure I've completely fallen under your spell.

I suppose I should also tell you that my heart wasn't the only part of my body that came to life at your added signature. I assure you, it took no time at all for me to come undone at the thought of your lips pressing gently against the paper, imagining that they were instead pressing to my skin... I didn't even have to touch myself, really. It just happened. Because of you and you alone.

I hope that wasn't too forward, but I felt it necessary that you know just how much of an effect you have on me.

If I could see you again in a millisecond, it wouldn't be soon enough.

That being said, I am determined to spend as much time as possible to perfect this dish for our dinner. Because you deserve nothing but the best, even if you insist that you could settle for less.

It's the least I can do.

Yours, Spencer.

And a week and a half later, when I didn't get a letter back on time, I was sure I'd messed up for good.

My mind was racing a mile a minute, yelling at myself for even thinking for a second of being that detailed in a letter without any consent. Sure, she'd taken it a step up by signing off her letter with a kiss, but I'd been absolutely idiotic in telling her that I got off to it.

I was honestly well and truly prepared to show up at her house with a big bouquet of flowers and an apology so wordy and probably too long for anyone's liking, in hopes that she'd forgive me for making this huge mistake.

Thankfully, though, it wasn't needed.

My phone chimed as I was pacing, my lip near bloody with how hard I'd been chewing at it, and I saw an unknown number attached to a text message and photo attachment.

The photo wouldn't load (I would have to plug it into my laptop and transfer the image there to see it— a fact which always irked Penelope to the core), but with the sentences I saw above the file, I almost knew exactly what I'd find when I had the means to see it.

There. Now we're even... Who says text messages can't be romantic and personal? XXX, Y/N

I felt like Bambi as I scrambled to my laptop three rooms over, stumbling over weak legs with my phone clutched tightly in my hand. My heart raced faster than it ever had as I started everything up and retrieved the right cord for my phone. With a few shakes and stumbles here and there, I briefly entertained the idea of upgrading my phone.

I probably would have left the apartment to do it immediately after seeing her photo attachment, but the moment it loaded up on my screen, my brain and body lost all ability to function properly.

A familiar burn coursed through the lower half of my body and tightened my chest at the sight of her, open and exposed and... wet.

My laptop screen was completely taken over by the image of Y/N's pussy, visibly glistening and aroused. A manicured hand—her hand— was in frame as well, middle finger resting snugly between the supple skin of her wet lips.

The fact that I only tasted her once felt downright cruel.

I tried to imagine it again— my face buried between the softness of her thighs. As much as I wanted to lay her down and indulge myself as long as possible, taking all the time in the world to slowly devour her and truly explore her for myself, what ran through my mind then was something more in the vein of our dynamic thus far.

My mind wandered, specifically to a place where I was the one laying down as she sat down directly onto my face and gave me what she thought I deserved. My hands were tied to the bed, maybe handcuffed. All I knew was that I couldn't touch her, and it bothered me. So I whined, and every time the sound left my mouth, she would let up, lifting further out of reach and causing me to instinctively reach my head up to chase her.

You greedy little slut... Take what I give you...

Desperately seeking her approval, I told her I'd be good and rejoiced when she lowered herself down to me again, allowing me to me completely wrapped up in her once more. My tongue lapped and lapped, gathering as much of her as I could before she'd inevitably leave again.

But she never did.

Somehow I kept my quiet, even though it was extremely difficult, and ate her out like my life depended on it. She glided smoothly over my face, coating more than just my lips in her arousal, and it thrilled me to my very core.

Every time I breathed in I could smell her, every time she groaned out my name my stomach fluttered, and it wasn't long before she was clutching my hair, shaking above me while I drank her in and repressed my whines.

My hips were uncontrollable though, bucking up into nothing and begging for any type of stimulation.

But then suddenly it was there— Her hand, firmly wrapping around my dick and gliding over it beautifully with a slickness that she must have transferred from her pussy. I could still taste her as I cried out her name, her movements quickening with every second until—

I didn't even realize I was actually alone until my eyes opened, cum coating my hand, my heartbeat heavy and loud, and the laptop screen in front of me a shade darker signaling a long period of inactivity.

I'd done it again...

And now we most certainly were not even.

I glanced over at my phone—plugged into the laptop—and then down at my lap, and my stomach knotted as my next move rang clear as day.

***

I woke up the next morning to texts from Spencer, and my heart picked up speed, a gentle warmth blooming through my chest at the sight.

I thought maybe he'd thank me for the photo I'd sent. Maybe he'd return it with an influx of messages along the lines of Oh my god, Holy fuck I miss you, and the like.

But what I wasn't expecting was to see a photo in return, of his hand that I'd dreamt of nearly nightly, wrapped firmly around his cock and all of it completely covered in cum.

Below the photo were three messages in a row, and each one gave me more butterflies than the last.

Sorry for low quality. No smartphone.

Also sorry we're not even anymore.

But I'm not sorry I did it- you're too perfect to resist.

***

Dearest Y/N,

I'm sorry you haven't gotten a letter from me in a while. And I know we've kept in touch through texting and calling while I was swamped at work, though now that I have some time off, I'd love to write you again. As much as I enjoy our virtual conversations, I still find sending letters to be my preferred method of communication (only second to speaking with you in person, that is).

Which brings me to the main point I'm trying to make.

I want to see you again. In person. I'm not completely confident in my cooking ability yet, but if you wouldn't mind the potential of it tasting awful, I'd love to have you over. I promise you nothing but the best, and I know that's a high promise, especially considering I probably haven't sold you on the meal, but it's true.

I'd do anything to please you.

And I really do mean 'anything', I hope you understand that.

Yours, Spencer.

***

The thought of seeing him in person again after so long made my hands way shakier than I would have liked. It made no sense the longer I thought about it, because it was obvious that we liked each other, and seeing each other in person wouldn't be a problem. Because it'd never been a problem before.

It irked me.

Still, I knocked on his door and physically shook out my hands, praying I could keep my cool when he finally opened the door.

But I should have known better.

One second I was staring at a large plank of wood, and the next I was staring into frantic eyes, golden and sparkling just as I remembered, but with an added glimmer of fear that matched the shakiness of my hands.

I don't know how long we stood there, just staring at each other, but the longer we did, the more we relaxed. His fear was gone, and the shaking in my hands turned into a dull hum that longed to reach out for him.

Still, I refrained, settling on a simple, "Hey, pen pal..."

By the way he looked at me, silent as ever, I started to wonder if that was a stupid thing to lead with. So I opened my mouth to apologize, to say anything else, but he beat me to it.

"Y/N... I... H—Hi, you look... incredible."

"O—Oh, thanks... Thank you, yeah, I um... figured I should... dress up a little. I know we're not going out anywhere, but I thought it might be nice."

He doesn't need to know that, Y/N, stop talking!

I gave him a small smile and a nervous laugh in an attempt to stop myself, hating how I was so nervous around him.

Spencer didn't seem to mind, though. He let me in and closed the door behind me as I quickly glanced around his apartment. It was littered with greens and browns, books everywhere, and I'd never felt more at home.

"Is it, uh... What you expected?"

"Hmm?" I turned to meet him, his soft voice pulling me from my wandering eyes.

"My apartment."

"Oh! Yeah, it's very you... I love it."

The compliment had his cheeks turning pink, and there was nothing I wanted to do more than kiss them over and over again.

And just like that, once again we were caught just staring at each other. I didn't know what he was thinking, and honestly, I didn't know what I was thinking either. All I knew in that moment was that Spencer Reid was standing right in front of me, close enough to touch, and I wanted to give in.

I was so wrapped up in the idea of feeling him that I almost didn't hear him speak. I wouldn't have heard him at all had it not been for his lips moving.

"I'm sorry, I haven't started dinner yet..."

"That's okay," I reassured. Or, at least I tried to. Really, though, I think it sounded more like I was uninterested in what he was saying, my voice flat and lifeless as I continued to stare at him.

Suddenly we were closer, and I had to look up higher to see his face, butterflies swarming in my stomach at the way he looked down at me.

"You're sure?"

"Mhm."

"I can start it now if you're getting hungry."

Food isn't what I'm hungry for, is what I thought. I almost said it, too, because he was even closer now, his hands coming out to touch mine. If they were humming before, they were certainly blaring with life now, growing hot under his light touch. And it took everything I had not to look down, because it had been too damn long since I'd seen his hands in person, and I wanted them on me immediately.

He could tell, too. He could sense my urgency, feel the longing radiating off my presence, and I knew this because I could feel his, too. His eyes practically dared me to say what I was thinking, and so I did.

"Don't you dare."

It was hard to tell who moved in first, but it really didn't matter.

I was here, in his apartment, feeling his lips glide over mine with reckless abandon, and that's all that mattered.

His hands gripped my waist so tightly I would have thought he was trying to hold me in place, to make sure I wasn't ever going to leave his sight again. And if that was the case, I would have let him hold me there forever.

My hands, meanwhile, clutched at his hair, forcing myself closer and closer to him with every sharp tug. I reveled in the way he whined into my mouth with every little thing I did, whether it was a tug of the hair or a roll forward of the hips, or even a swipe of my tongue over his.

He was putty in my hands yet again, and just like every time before, it turned me into a fucking goner.

Being with Spencer wasn't like anything I'd ever known. And the only other thing I'd known was Patrick. He didn't want me, not really, and even though he was good to me in the beginning, it was never like this.

I didn't come over to his apartment with shaking hands. I didn't send him fucking love letters almost weekly, and I certainly didn't get kissed like this...

Spencer was drunk on me, and I wasn't any sober myself.

"That picture you sent me..." I mumbled over his lips, still keeping myself as close as I could while I got out what I needed to say. "Where did you take that?"

We kissed for a few more seconds, unable to stay apart, before he answered, his voice just as breathy and brimming with desperation as mine. "My office. Just down the hall."

I kissed him again, hard, and then pulled back to look him in the eyes. They widened when I said, "Show me."

He dragged me through the apartment on rushed legs, and I almost laughed at the urgency, only stopped by the realization that I was just as urgent. It occurred to me that perhaps my laughing at his urgency might just be a slight turn on for him, given our history with my playful degradation, but still I pulled back— Tonight felt... different.

It didn't feel like we were headed in the direction of me calling him my dirty little whore throughout the night, and it was something I was more than okay with. In fact, I welcomed it, excited to see where this new night would take us.

We ended up in his office, which remained more or less the same aesthetic as the rest of his place. In the middle sat a small desk with a laptop and some papers scattered about on it, accompanied by a tall floor lamp and a rolling desk chair.

"Where were you exactly?" I mused, gripping his hand tightly and buzzing at the way his fingers flexed against my own.

"In the chair... I pulled the photo up on my laptop."

"Right. No smartphone."

Spencer hummed in confirmation before dragging me along to the chair, and I fucking giggled as he plopped down and practically pulled me right on top of him, the chair rolling back a foot or two. I went down for a bright, messy kiss that ended with his hands clutching my ass over my skirt and my own cradling his face.

His growing bulge nudged right up into my inner thigh, and I groaned lightly in his mouth, my fingers dragging softly down his jaw and neck until I reached his shoulders.

"What were you thinking about?"

He raised his eyebrow, and I rocked my hips forward with a sly grin, hoping to get my point across. "When you were looking at my picture, in this very chair, what were you thinking about?"

Seeing his eyelids stutter and his tongue dart out at my movements sent a rush through me, and I moved my hips once more to emphasize my urgency.

"I... I thought about you... riding my face. You tied my hands..."

"Oh?" I sighed, rocking forward again and humming into his neck. "Well, that can definitely be arranged if you want it bad enough..."

"Please, Y/N, yes... Please..."

The need dripping from every syllable made it near impossible to breathe, and I was suddenly very inclined to give him everything he wanted. With or without the begging.

So I reluctantly peeled away from him and stood up on weak legs. Staring at Spencer as he sat there, leaning back in the chair with disheveled hair and obvious desire in his eyes, made it all the better when I took my panties off from under my skirt and motioned for him to come forward. "On your knees?"

I would have demanded it in any other situation, but I was feeling a bit more sweet this time around.

And he seemed grateful for it, sliding the chair back further and getting down in front of me. I reached out and played with his hair, trying my hardest to commit his beautiful face to memory. I wanted it burned there for the rest of time.

"Hands?"

Spencer offered his hands to me, and I hummed happily, doing my best to tie his hands together with a makeshift knot from my panties. It wasn't really tight or secure, but it was enough for him to whine as he set them in his lap.

He watched intently as I dropped my skirt—a bit redundant now, but I thought it'd be a nice way to get him more excited. Plus I wanted to see his face (or at lease what I could see of it while it was buried between my legs).

I stepped forward then, looking down at him with a smile while my hands reached out to comb through his hair. "You ready?"

"Uh huh."

The look in his eyes right before I came forward and hovered over his face almost made my come on the spot.

But as fun as that would have been, I was glad for the way my body held off and settled for a beautiful, burning increase of pleasure that dragged out the longer he swiped his tongue through my folds. Actually, I forgot for a moment that I was supposed to be moving, riding his face like he'd thought about.

I willed my eyes open and clutched Spencer's soft locks of hair beneath me, gently rolling my hips and grinding down further on his face. The groan he let out not only felt good against my skin, but it sounded like pure bliss, eliciting a small whimper of my own as I tightened my grip in his hair and rocked faster.

"God, I missed having your mouth on me, baby... You're... so good..."

The longer I spoke the more breathless I became, not because the words didn't come easily, but because I truly believed them to be true.

Spencer really was so fucking good, his tongue the most delicate, divine object of the universe as it drew out every ounce of delight from my body. I may have been the one above him, calling the shots and directing him where and how to please me, but he was the one who clung to my soul like static and politely guided me towards damnation.

I wasn't even sure of my surroundings to tell you the truth. As my body tensed and took me through one of the most blinding pleasures I'd experienced in weeks, My eyes were squeezed so tightly it's like I saw the universe. All I knew was Spencer's lips sucking my clit and my hands deeply rooted in his hair as I shouted incoherently, stars swirling around behind my eyelids.

Truly, for all I knew, we could have been in space. It wouldn't have made any difference.

But eventually it came to be too much. I was reaching a limit I didn't want to get to so quickly, and so I flashed my eyes open and tried to adjust to this brand new atmosphere, unweaving my fingers through pretty brown waves of hair and stepping back to assess the situation.

What I found was the most beautiful man I'd ever known, panting like he'd just ran a marathon and yet harboring the most intense joy and desire a person could hold. He was on his knees, bound hands writhing in his lap as he awaited further instruction and licked up as much of myself on his face as he could before I stopped him.

Under normal circumstances, I would have wanted to absolutely ruin him. That adoring, desperate look in his eye would have spurred me to more devious endeavors, but all I wanted in this moment was to make sure he was satisfied. I wanted to take care of him, to let him know that I longed to make him feel as worshipped and adored as he'd made me feel.

I got down to Spencer's level, quickly removing the fabric from his wrists and hauling him to his feet, where he now towered over me, still waiting for words to address and instruct him.

Instead, I leaned up with soft hands upon his cheeks and pulled him down to meet my lips in a kiss that changed the tone entirely. It was erotic still, of course, what with my arousal infiltrating my taste buds and eliciting a soft sigh from the both of us, but our urgency manifested in sweeter ways... Softer lips, gentle touches of the face, and an exchanging of breath that was so smooth and seamless it felt like we were floating on air.

I was finding it hard to breathe again, but it wasn't an issue in the slightest. In fact, there was nowhere else I'd rather have been than right there, kissing Spencer Reid like we had all the time in the world.

When the breathlessness was a little too much to bear, we pulled away, though only leaving just enough space to breathe. Our lips stayed briefly connected while we caught up, and his hands found their way to the sides of my face. The way they practically engulfed my whole head brought a brief smile to my lips as I finally gave him the words he was looking for.

"I'm so glad I met you," I whispered.

"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing."

We kissed each other again, naturally and with so much ease that I wondered how I had ever lived without him.

And then, as my hands slid gently down his chest, I felt it.

Something that felt very much like a ring attached to a necklace sat right where his heartbeat resided, and I knew exactly which ring it was.

"W—" I pulled back and circled the shape of it with my finger through the shirt, then looked up at him. "Is that what I think it is?"

Spencer looked briefly panicked, pulling away a little and fishing down the front of his shirt for the chain. "Oh... Um, yeah. I, um... I forgot to take it off, I'm sorry. I..."

"You... kept it?"

I observed the diamond as it laid flat on my palm, still attached to the chain and around his neck. Honestly, after all this time I figured he'd never found it or gotten rid of it, seeing as he never brought it up. And yet there it was, glittering in the palm of my hand as my other one presses firmly against Spencer's rapidly beating heart.

"Y—Yeah... It um... It was really the only physical thing I had to remember you—Well, at least until we started sending letters... And I guess I just... W—Wearing it has become such a habit that I forgot to take it off."

"You never take it off?"

I could tell he was nervous, and rightfully so given I wasn't really letting on how I was feeling about the whole thing.

Still, he answered my short question in such a small whisper I'd have thought he was trying not to get in trouble.

"No."

"Why?"

My words certainly weren't helping ease his anxieties, so I remained close, dropping the ring and focusing rather on his eyes. I softened the look in my own and glided my hands down to hold his. His fingers flexed against mine, squeezing them for dear life as he sighed out in relief and flashed me a soft smile.

"Because... I wanted you close to my heart."

With a smile that mirrored his eyes, full of enchantment and pure adoration for the person in front of me, I didn't use my brain and instead focused on what my heart was telling me, consequences be damned.

"I think I might love you..."

Spencer squeezed my hands tighter, that relief spreading out to all his features and brightening that beautiful smile.

"Funny... I was just thinking the same thing."

Our lips met once more, and I swear it was like nothing bad was ever going to happen for the rest of time.

I'd never felt that way. Not once with Patrick did my heart feel settled into place, even during the great parts of our relationship.

And now here I was, with a man who sent me love letters and kept every physical reminder of my existence, who kissed me like I was the most precious thing in the world and slowly mended my wounded heart.

He held me close the whole way to his bedroom and never let me go until the morning. Though, even then his arms outstretched towards me and his fingers flexed, needing to grab onto any part of me that he could find.

And as I was sure I always would, I welcomed him with open arms.

***

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czenzo · 2 years

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Misdial - Chapter II

[ao3] chapter links: [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ 4 ] [ 5 ] [ 6 ] [ 7 ] [ 8 ] [ Epilogue ]

summary: Lucy, a newly-enrolled fine arts student at a London university, accidentally calls the wrong number and ends up getting to know a business student who also happens to be in the same city. Slowly but surely, they realise their lives are intertwined more than they initially thought, and soon they find their friendship may be evolving into something more. Or: After a chance phone call, Lucy and Lockwood spend the next few months pining after one another.

rating: G words: 1400

Anthony Lockwood is very much not enjoying the beginning of his second year at university.

It was a wonder he’d made it through the first, though he’d mostly motivated himself by saying that the first year was always going to be slow going, things would definitely pick up after, and then he’d finally find something about his course that interested him.

After two lectures delivered by Winkman, the most horrible lecturer in the department, on the first day of the term no less, he promptly decided that he was wrong and forewent the rest of the scheduled classes that day to nip into his favourite coffee shop and ignore the outside world for a while.

After a peculiar phone call from a stranger, and another one from his sister telling him that he’d better be attending his lectures or so help me God, I’ll bite your head off, he finishes off the slice of cake the barista gave to him on the house, (“Alright, Locky?” Flo had said as he walked through the door. And then, straight after, “You look miserable. ‘Ave some lemon drizzle.”) dusts the crumbs from his hands and lap, and reluctantly drags himself back outside after waving goodbye to Flo.

Back home at 35 Portland Row, he’s greeted by Jessica Lockwood in the hallway, getting ready to leave. She’s spent the morning and early afternoon at her teaching assistant job at a local school, and now, judging by the handbag full of neat notes and her laptop, has some work to do on her Master’s course. He catches a glimpse at some confusing looking handwritten notes, and it takes him a second to register that the reason he can’t decipher them is that it’s in Greek. Jessica had always been fascinated by languages and linguistics, so it was no surprise that she chose to get a degree in it.

“Anthony,” she beams at him for a second, but then the smile drops from her face. “Don’t you have any more classes today?”

“No,” he replies smoothly; lying has become a talent of his over the years, “I’m all done for the day.”

“Oh! I’m jealous,” she slides her feet into heels that only Jessica Lockwood would casually wear to a lecture, and brushes back a stray lock of hair from her face. It falls perfectly back into position.

“Lockwood,” their other housemate, George Cubbins, pops his head around the corner from the kitchen. “You’re back early.”

“My afternoon lectures were cancelled,” Lockwood grins and looks at him in a way that he hopes conveys his message of ‘shut up before you give anything away’ well enough. It does the job, as George simply nods and retreats into the kitchen.

“I’m heading over to the library soon,” he calls, “you can join me if you want.”

Before Lockwood can politely decline, his sister nods enthusiastically.

“A change of scenery will do you some good. You spend so much time in this house, Anthony.”

“I go to Flo’s a lot.”

Jessica opens the front door and gives him a pointed look. He only just stops himself from wincing at both the sudden gust of wind from outside and the look on his sister’s face.

“Go to the library, Anthony.” She throws him one last smile and is quickly gone, the door closing swiftly behind her.

“Yeah, Anthony,” George calls out, and without seeing him Lockwood can tell he’s smirking, holding back laughter.

“Shut up, George.”

The nearest library is a quick walk and a bus ride away, and is full of students studying much harder than Lockwood ever has at university. So full, in fact, that they struggle to find a free table to sit and study at. Just as Lockwood is about to open his mouth to put on an act of oh, it’s a shame there’s no space, we’ll just have to come back another time, George points to a couple of free chairs and makes a beeline for them.

As they approach, however, they come to the unfortunate realisation that the table is occupied by none other than Quill Kipps, the snobby third-year student doing the same course as Lockwood. George lets out an unapologetic scoff and makes himself at home on one of the chairs, much to Kipps’ chagrin.

“What are you doing?” His features are contorted into a glare of irritation.

“Sitting down,” George replies, hauling a notebook and two textbooks out of his bag.

“I can see that, Cubbins. What are you doing at my table?”

“Revising.”

Kipps lets out a resigned sigh, and with a shake of his head, he’s back to poring over the books in front of him; he looks tired, and Lockwood can only see it as a vision of his own miserable future if he stays on this stupid management course.

Lockwood reluctantly takes a seat beside George and pulls out a notebook he’d only just remembered to bring with him. He hadn’t thought to bring textbooks or anything that would actually allow him to revise, so after a moment of staring at the blank pages in front of him, he hauls himself to his feet and goes in search of a book that’s related to the incredibly thrilling subject of Management Science.

Eventually, he locates a textbook, the name of which he recognises from the helpful additional reading list he was given at the start of his first year, back when he was considerably more full of motivation and determination to do his parents proud. He settles back down at the table, where George is cleaning his glasses, and Kipps is angrily scribbling out a line of writing.

He opens the textbook. The contents page is nothing short of mind-numbingly boring, and it takes a moment of tapping a lively rhythm on the table with his fingernails to psyche himself up to flip the page and start reading.

He reads the first two lines, then realises he didn’t pay enough attention to the first one, so goes back and rereads it. He finishes the paragraph then rereads the whole thing to try and actually digest the words on the page, rather than simply skim over them.

He finally digests them on the third reread, and wants nothing but to spit them back out. All the business jargon leaves a bad taste on his tongue.

“I got an odd phone call earlier,” he decides he deserves a break from the taxing revision, resting his forearms on the table and tilting his head to look over at where George is devouring the text in front of him.

“Oh?” his friend replies, only half paying attention.

“From someone who misdialed her friend’s number. She was quite chatty.”

“What, you had a conversation with a complete stranger over the phone?”

“Yes, actually. It wasn’t half bad.”

George looks up at him for a second, one eyebrow raised.

“Don’t look at me like that. Go back to revising”—he peers over George’s shoulder—“Latin America.”

“Speaking of Latin America,” George pushes back his chair, making a horrid screech resonate across the room, “I need to find a specific book on it. Be back in a sec.”

Lockwood stares silently at the space his friend had occupied seconds ago.

“The person who called you doesn’t happen to be a stubborn art student, does she?”

It takes Lockwood a second to register Kipps’ words. “You know her?”

Kipps shrugs. “I might.”

“How?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “What?”

The man opposite him makes a point of highlighting a long line of text, making it evident he’s done paying attention to the conversation.

“Kipps.”

“I’m trying to focus on this essay plan, Tony. Shut up.”

That’s an interesting development, Lockwood thinks to himself. There’s a small voice in the back of his mind that says hey, there’s a reason to call Lucy again, followed by a louder, more sensible one that says it’d be weird to call her; finding out they have a mutual acquaintance (not friend, Kipps is too much of a dick to have that title) doesn’t disregard the fact they’re still strangers. Strangers that happened to have a single conversation and will likely never speak again.

Still, his hand reaches down to pat the outline of the phone in his front pocket.

Then, with a quick stretch and a sigh, he sits up straight and forces himself to keep reading.

end note: for those wondering about the timeline, Lucy's uni started the week before Lockwood's. so while Lucy's already elbow-deep in assignments and projects, Lockwood is still mourning the loss of the summer on his first day of term. George is a history student at the same uni as Lockwood, Jess, and Quill, if anyone's curious.

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lockwood & co fic #lucy carlyle #anthony lockwood #locklyle #czenzo.fic #misdial

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foxghost · 3 years

Text

Joyful Reunion, Chapter 96

Translator: foxghost @foxghost tumblr/ko-fi1 Beta: meet-me-in-oblivion @meet-me-in-oblivion tumblr Original by 非天夜翔 Fei Tian Ye Xiang Masterpost | Characters, Maps & Other Reference Index

Book 3, Chapter 21 (Part 6)

There’s a burly man standing to the side of the wrestler, and in the middle of the winter, and it’s the Twelfth month no less, he’s stripped to the waist. With a figure that dwarfs even Chang Liujun’s, and a hefty, muscular face, he’s looking the assassins standing across from him up and down with disdain.

“Wonderful!”

As someone gets thrown onto the ground, Cai Yan laughs, leading the crowd in a round of applause. The rest of the functionaries nod along with Mu Kuangda in approval.

The Mongolian Envoy gives Cai Yan a nod, and Cai Yan bestows the winning warrior a cup of wine. The warrior comes up and thanks Cai Yan.

“After waiting for so long,” the envoy says, “we’ve finally managed to meet Your Majesty and Your Highness. It’ll be quite the thing to boast about in front of our people when we get back.”

“Of course I’m very glad that you’ve come such a long way to celebrate my son’s birthday,” Li Yanqiu replies. "As the capital’s relocation was not settled ere now, we did not have time to receive your delegation.”

Duan Ling and Mu Qing step down from the winding gallery into the garden. There are many flowering trees planted in the garden, and Mu Qing is about to walk farther in when Duan Ling tugs at his sleeve to let him know this is far enough. The Black Armours standing on guard outside are about to drive them off as they approach, but Xie You is walking towards them from the other end of the gallery, and he gestures at the guards.

That’s why they get to stand behind the flowering bushes to listen to the goings on inside. Through the bushes, he can even see Wu Du spacing out ten steps away.

Cai Yan says, “I did read the last letter he sent, but as governmental affairs have been taking up all of my time, I haven’t had a chance to write a reply. Now that there’s an imperial order as well, I’ll trouble you to bring it back along with the letter.”

The envoy immediately replies, “That’s wonderful. Our crown prince has told us that we must bring his blessings to Your Highness by your birthday and to ask for a letter in reply.”

“What blessing?” Cai Yan smiles. “I’m surprised that Batu still thinks of me.”

“His Highness said that though you’re ten thousand miles apart,” the envoy says solemnly, “he’s gazing at the southern region from afar and celebrating Your Highness’s birthday today in order to commemorate the bond that was formed between you at the Illustrious Hall.”

Cai Yan gently smiles, heaves a sigh, and shakes his head.

“His Highness had a dish specifically prepared. It’s called the ‘Cai Dog’, and he told us that we must make sure to present it to Your Highness today.”2

Cai Yan’s smile freezes in an instant.

“I had been told that your people don’t eat dog meat, or is that untrue?” An official asks.

Those words have been rather baffling, and most of those present can’t quite comprehend what the envoy is saying, but upon observing the expression on Cai Yan’s face, the envoy begins to smile. “It’s true, we don’t eat dog meat. Dogs are our faithful friends, and in order to commemorate the work dogs do for us, we have kneaded leafy vegetable juice into dough, moulded them into dog-shaped buns that are then steamed. They are thereupon distributed to the commoners as a sign of good luck.”

Duan Ling digests these words in silence.

Batu has definitely taught his envoy to say these words; he wonders what the look on Cai Yan’s face is right now. The truth will out as they say, and no matter how much Cai Yan tries to hide things, some people are bound to find out eventually. Duan Ling finds this funny, but he can also feel that Batu’s wrath is just about to throw itself in Cai Yan’s face from ten thousand miles away — that’s the only reason he’s taught the envoy to say these series of malicious words in order to provoke Cai Yan. As for whether it’s a threat or simply a taunt, he has no idea.

“Please, bring it forward.” The envoy raises his hand.

And so the servants bring forward two platters filled with dog-shaped steamed bread, mottled-green in colour, setting them down in front of Cai Yan.

Cai Yan’s expression is seriously turning green one moment and white the next. He forces a smile, “How thoughtful of him.”

Everyone is finding this quite funny, but among those present who are in the know, only Lang Junxia is aware of Can Yan’s nickname, while Wu Du could make several guesses. Lang Junxia turns his head to give Wu Du a look that speaks volumes, but Wu Du ignores him, and instead he glances over at the flowering bushes across from him and suddenly spies Duan Ling peering from behind the bushes, trying to get a better view.

“Mongolian customs are certainly interesting,” Cai Yan says to Li Yanqiu. “Borjigin has always been very cordial when we were in Shangjing.”

Li Yanqiu nods; the envoy adds, “His Highness sincerely wishes to ask Your Highness for a handwritten letter in order to soothe his yearning for you.”

As soon as he says this, everyone starts to laugh, thinking to themselves that this barbarian’s trying to speak Han, but even his vocabulary is wrong.

Cai Yan lets out a breath. “Since that’s the case, let’s get some ink and paper out here.”

Lang Junxia steps forward, “It’s freezing and Your Highness’s hands are going to get cold. There’s no need to do this yourself. I can write on your behalf.”

The envoy seems to be thinking about this, and as he’s about to speak, Lang Junxia cuts in, “It’s been many years and I rather miss His Highness as well. He should be eighteen by now — is he married yet?”

“His Highness is out on the battlefield fighting for the Khan. As a highly valued grandson of the Khan, he is not yet engaged.”

Lang Junxia gives Li Yanqiu and Cai Yan a bow before he takes a seat set at the side of the pavilion, and taking the brush and ink, he begins to write. Cai Yan easily comes up with a few conventional greetings, and Lang Junxia writes them down; it’s no more than things that happened during their years at the Illustrious Hall, and the letter begins with reminiscing before the subject turns to the relations between their empires.

From behind the bushes, Duan Ling’s mouth quirks in a slight smile as he listens. He can’t see the look on the envoy’s face but he already knows that Batu has become aware that Cai Yan is impersonating him. He has no idea how Batu has managed to guess though.

Soon, the envoy is bringing up certain topics regarding their time at the Illustrious Hall, passing on Batu’s words. He speaks of the Illustrious Hall’s headmaster, as well as Helian Bo, testing him between the lines. To his surprise, Cai Yan manages to respond to all these inquiries flawlessly.

“Our crown prince also wanted to know if Your Highness has met with Zongzhen.”

“I nearly got dragged to Shangjing and became a study partner for him.” Cai Yan smiles as he answers, then he heaves a sigh. “Destiny does make such fools of us. If I really did end up going, maybe dad would still be here, and we’ll all be alive.”

As soon as those words leave his mouth, silence falls over the garden.

“Your Majesty?” Mu Jinzhi says very quietly.

“Rong’er,” Li Yanqiu says, “don’t think about that all the time anymore. How many times have I told you that already?”

“Yes,” that’s all Cai Yan can say.

Listening to all this quietly from behind the bushes, Duan Ling feels rather complicated all of a sudden. As he looks up, his eyes meet Wu Du’s through the leaves to find Wu Du watching him, his gaze full of tenderness.

“His Highness would also like to ask if Your Highness finds him more to your liking, or finds Yelü Zongzhen more to your liking.”

And now everyone is feeling even more awkward, all of them are finding that it’s such a humorous way to ask this question. And so Cai Yan says to Li Yanqiu, “Mongolians are all like this, straight arrows.”

“Seems like Yelü Zongzhen and Borjigin often vied for your affections,” Li Yanqiu jests, “it seems you get along with others well.”

Cai Yan immediately denies this humbly, and says to the envoy, “Naturally, I’m closer to your crown prince.”

Mu Kuangda’s expression darkens and he coughs, but Cai Yan is pretending he hasn’t heard, and continue to say to the envoy, “We really have no idea where the sword of your realm is, but if we do manage to find it, it’ll surely be an honour for us to return it. Wuluohou Mu, do put that in the letter as well.”

Lang Junxia finishes writing the letter and gives it to Cai Yan. Cai Yan takes the seal from his attendant, and puts his stamp in the bottom left corner.

The envoy says cheerfully, “Though it’s not in Your Highness’s handwriting, upon my return, I can at least say my mission is complete.”

“Is there anything else that Borjigin would like to say to me?”

The envoy falls quiet for a moment, and he looks this way and that as though he would like to say something. At that moment, Duan Ling keeps getting this feeling that the envoy still has other plans.

But to their surprise, Li Yanqiu says, “It is cold and the days are short. You should return to the palace while it’s still early. Come over in the evening, and let’s talk.”

Cai Yan hurriedly acquiesces, and Li Yanqiu gets up without saying anything more; everyone bows to see him out. After Cai Yan sees Li Yanqiu and Mu Jinzhi off, he doesn’t take his seat again, but remains standing, glancing over at the envoy. An attendant steps up to him; it is the new arrival Feng, who says to the envoy, “Do you have anything else to say? If you do not, His Highness will be leaving as well.”

Li Yanqiu’s departure seems to have left the envoy’s plans in disarray. Cai Yan says, “If there’s anything else, please speak with Chancellor Mu. Passing your message onto these officials here is tantamount to passing it to me.”

The envoy looks over at the assassins standing farther down. “Our crown prince would like to have a wrestling match with Your Highness once more.”

“What?” Cai Yan’s face clearly shows how impatient he feels, and suddenly he gets suspicious that he may be falling for some trick. His gaze sweeps over the envoy’s Mongolian attendants, questioning whether Batu has come along with the group in disguise — it’s not an impossibility.

Paranoid, Cai Yan is still looking the Mongolian envoy’s attendants up and down. “It’s not like he’s come, so how are we supposed to wrestle?” He says, while at the same time he’s fully preparing for Batu to show himself.

Fortunately the envoy is replying with a smile, “Oh? Does that mean Your Highness is agreeing to a match?”

Oh, Cai Yan, you idiot, Duan Ling thinks. Even when Borjigin doesn’t show up he can still prank you like this, which makes me wonder whether it’s fortunate or unfortunate that you ended up sitting in that position.

Cai Yan’s mind is in utter chaos, feeling that anything he may say could be used against him. Luckily, Mu Kuangda cuts in now with a smile, “If so, then why not let us each choose one of our own to represent His Highness and your crown prince, and get a good match in? Once we’ve fully enjoyed ourselves we can all go home, and not have to stand here in the cold all day. I’m an old man, not like you young folks who grew up in the north.”

The envoy says, “That’s exactly what we were meaning to do. Our best warrior Amga will represent our crown prince. But I wonder which warrior will fight for the Empire of Chen?”

Nobody says anything. You’ve got to be kidding — act like clowns and wrestle with a boorish fool? That’s just downright humiliation.

Duan Ling knows the envoy will definitely say something like “in all the vast territories of Chen, is there no one who’d dare wrestle with one of our warriors” or some such. The kind of stuff that comes out of Batu’s head, well, Duan Ling knows that like the back of his own hand.

“Which warrior?” Being here at all makes Cai Yan flustered and irritable; he wishes the fight would be over already so he can leave. The longer this goes on, the more likely they’ll see flaws in his act.

“Chang Liujun,” Mu Kuangda says.

Chang Liujun is about to answer, but then Wu Du has taken a step forward. “Then do allow me to spar with your warrior on His Highness’s behalf.”

Duan Ling’s heart sharply rises up to this throat. Mu Qing doesn’t even know what to say, his expression clearly expressing “why is he so keen on showing off” as he looks at Duan Ling. But Duan Ling knows that the “His Highness” in Wu Du’s mouth refers to him, and not Cai Yan. In Wu Du’s eyes, the real main character of this formal birthday celebration visit has been standing behind the bushes — the Duan Ling who hasn’t shown himself.

“Wu Du has not fully recovered from his injuries.” Zheng Yan says languidly, “I better take his place.”

“There’s no need to trouble the two of you.” Lang Junxia gives Cai Yan a nod.

“How about this …” Cai Yan’s head spins through a series of possibilities and says, “Wu Du’s injuries haven’t fully healed, so why not …”

But Wu Du disregards everyone else in the garden, and draws the Lieguangjian from its sheath by his waist. A bright metallic whistling rings through the area. Suddenly, all goes quiet.

Mu Kuangda says with alarm, “Wu Du!”

At Wu Du’s provocation, the expression of the warrior from the other side immediately darkens.

I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎

Cai (Cai Yan’s last name) and Cai (vegetable) are homonyms; “Cai Dog” was also what Batu used to call Cai Yan when they were kids. ↩︎

#相見歡 #fei tian ye xiang #joyful reunion #xiang jian huan #fox translates things

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imnotoverlyobsessive · 3 years

Text

Aight my dudes here’s chapter four of Oopsie Daisies have fun. Thanks again to @edward-or-ford for editing!

Looks Like Someone Picked a Whole Bushel of Oopsie Daisies Chapter Four: Shadows

You’re all I want and I don’t know why. This new addiction is all I know, and it’s safe to say that I’ve lost control. - 2 in the Chest, 1 in the Head, New Years Day

Mabel knew a great many things. She knew how to fix rips in tights and leggings without making it noticeable (and if it was noticeable, it was fucking fabulous, okay?). She knew how to straighten and re-curl her hair in just the right way. She knew how to contour her makeup to change the way her facial structure appeared, and how to paint a mug while keeping it dishwasher safe.

Mabel was, of course, interested enough in those things to learn about them. What she was not interested in is how things work. It was far more important that they do work rather than how, as far as she was concerned. So whenever her Grunkles, dad, and Dipper got together to watch a marathon of How It’s Made on the Shack’s frankly ancient TV, both Mabel and her mom were bored out of their minds.

She was forced to learn plenty in school, thank you very much. It was winter break. She didn’t wanna learn on winter break. Gross. That’s the exact opposite of what winter break is for, and Mabel was of the opinion that doing otherwise is positively blasphemous, but under the careful tutelage of her mother, she’d long since stopped trying to understand the males of the species. Or rather, the males of her family specifically (she’d managed to obtain a vague grasp on the male minds outside of her family, or at least some of them, she thought. Perhaps the boys at her school were just easy to read, or maybe it was teenage boys in general. Not that they were strictly logical in her mind, of course; she just understood how their brains worked to some degree).

And so, an hour after they return to the Shack from the hike, Mabel found herself standing at the kitchen counter, carefully stacking the fifty-seventh (she hadn’t counted, of course, but it was indeed the fifty-seventh) mini marshmallow on top of its companions in her mug of hot chocolate while the beginnings of their silly show blared in the background.

She was humming an old BABBA song as she plucked another marshmallow from the bag, swaying her hips back and forth to the beat in her mind. She stopped when she heard the sound of footsteps, looking over her shoulder to see Dipper shuffling into the room on socked feet.

He was looking everywhere but her. Mabel found this unusual, but what was infinitely more odd was the way he walked over to her quietly, dropped a folded piece of paper at her feet, and then promptly moved to open the fridge as if nothing at all had occurred.

Dropping the marshmallow into her mug, she reached down to retrieve the paper.

“Uh… Dip, you dro-“

“What do you think I should have to drink?” Dipper cut in quickly, the words sloppy and thrown together without proper enunciation.

Mabel blinked. He didn’t want her to ask about it, that much was evident. A note for her, then, perhaps? A secret note?

“Well… I’m having hot chocolate, myself,” she suggested.

“With an obscene number of marshmallows, I see.”

Mabel gasped and put a hand to her chest. “Me? My dear brother, I am positively offended that you would even suggest such a thing!”

He grinned. “Maybe I’ll have some more cider.” He poured himself a glass and left the room before Mabel could think to ask about the paper again.

Glancing around to make sure nobody was coming, she turned back towards her mug, just so, if needed, she could shove the paper into her sweater pocket unnoticed and pretend she was still preparing her hot chocolate. She unfolded it carefully. Dipper didn’t write her handwritten notes. She was a bit excited (more than a bit, but she would never admit to such a thing). Sue her. His handwriting was messy, and she had some minor difficulties reading it, but she did manage to decipher it after a brief moment of staring at the page.

I need to talk to you in private. Once everyone’s gone to bed here, I’ll pick you up from Candy’s. I’ll text you if anything goes wrong.

In private? Mabel’s heart might very well have stopped. She’d never been alone with Dipper. This afternoon had been the closest she’d ever come to it. Even then, though, they hadn’t been actually, truly, genuinely, legitimately alone. Their parents had been right there. And then they’d been interrupted. Their parents were always there.

She was so nervous, so focused on the way her heart was pounding in her ears, that she completely forgot to put the marshmallows away.

—————

If Mabel could see how nervous Dipper was as he pulled on his jeans and shoes, she wouldn’t have believed it was in any way related to her. If it was somehow proven to her that it was related to her, however, she would have been thrilled beyond all measure.

But Mabel couldn’t see Dipper, as he was on the other end of a text message that read leaving now, and so she remained wholly unaware of the absolute terror he wasn’t bothering to keep from his facial expression, as there was none of the usual audience present.

With no one around to request an explanation, Dipper felt no need to keep his anxiety in check as he placed his shaking foot on the last stair of the Shack.

He was about to walk over to the coat rack by the front door when-

“Dipper,” rang out his father’s voice, the low tone sounding like a roar in the quiet of the house.

Dipper whirled around to face his dad, who was seated in an armchair hidden in the shadows of the living room. It was no wonder Dipper hadn’t noticed him before he spoke; he could’ve been a shadow himself.

Dipper was relieved it was too dark for Mr. Pines to see his expression clearly, the man’s face obscured by darkness. He instead concerned himself with his body language and voice. He hunched himself over as if he were barely awake and faked a yawn.

“Dad, you scared me.”

“What are you doing up this late?” Mr. Pines asked.

“Getting a glass of water. Woke up thirsty,” Dipper explained, careful to keep his voice tired-sounding.

“Mmm,” Mr. Pines nodded. “Kitchen’s that way,” he pointed in the opposite direction Dipper had been walking in, as if Dipper didn’t live there and was not fully aware of the Shack’s layout (note: Dipper was indeed fully aware of the Shack’s layout and could certainly navigate it half asleep).

“Huh?” Dipper said with false bleariness. “Oh, right.”

Shuffling into the kitchen, Dipper poured himself a glass of water and moved sluggishly back to the living room with it in hand.

“Goodnight, son.”

“Night, dad,” Dipper mumbled with more fake sleepiness.

If Mabel had seen it, she wouldn’t know what to feel. But she hadn’t seen it, because Dipper was on the other end of a dad’s awake, we’ll have to tomorrow text.

She also couldn’t see the expression he made when she replied, asking why he couldn’t just text it to her, and not to keep her in suspense, nor could Dipper see her inflamed face (and neck and ears, if we’re honest, but don’t share such observances with Mabel) or the way she was biting her lip nervously, perhaps he might not have been as nervous. Perhaps he might have even been hopeful.

But alas, neither twin had the other in their sight, and were therefore doomed to be eaten alive by their anxiety and respective insecurities.

If one knows anything about teenage girls (and perhaps even a fair percentage of women as well), one is fully cognizant of the rather unfortunate tendency many of them have to analyze, reanalyze, and overanalyze each individual word, action, and tone of voice that emerges from the object of their affection.

In Mabel’s case, she was seated on the cold tiles of Candy’s bathroom, back leaning against the locked door. It was late enough that Grenda and Candy were asleep, thankfully. Recently, Mabel had been taking forever to fall asleep. Which was strange, because she had never had any issues that could be anywhere near insomnia before. Thus, everyone else fell asleep before she did.

It wasn’t her fault. Honestly, it wasn’t! It was just that Dipper was so damn attractive and sweet and funny, and how could she sleep when she could only fight her thoughts of him while conscious? He plagued her dreams, so she couldn’t even escape him in sleep the way she used to be able to do. He had invaded her every thought, every moment, every breath. He was in her bloodstream. In her veins. She could not escape her yearning for him.

And so, as she sat on the bathroom floor staring at her phone, at Dipper’s last text of I need to tell you in person, she typed out a slow, resigned okay and leaned her head back against the door.

What was going on with him? He’d told her so many things over text before and it had never been an issue. Why was this different? Maybe he was only insisting on telling her in person because they were so close distance-wise, which wasn’t a regular occurance, of course, but maybe he’d have been perfectly fine with telling her whatever it was over text if she hadn’t been visiting Gravity Falls? Or maybe he’d want to FaceTime or Skype instead? Or maybe it was so very important he tell her in person that he’d actually been waiting since the last time they had seen each other?

But what could be so important? How was it so important he needed to tell her in person? Was it truly so different than every other thing he’d ever told her? Countless stories and anecdotes and complaints and late-night phone calls and existential discussions; how was this different?

No matter how much she thought and analyzed it (which, rest assured, was a great deal indeed), she kept coming back to one thing, one unthinkable, horrifying, terrifying, heart-wrenching, devastating scenario:

What if he’d found his soulmate?

What else would have been so important, made it so essential he told her in person? The more she thought about it, the more it made sense.

Dipper had never mentioned how he felt about the prospect of having a soulmate. He knew how she felt about hers, and having a soulmark, but he’d never shared his own feelings with her in return.

Which was fair, honestly, because soulmates and soulmarks were intensely personal things. She might as well have asked him to strip down and do some nude modeling for her (which, side note, that sounded positively heavenly. She never drew him or painted him where anybody could see; only in the secret sketchbook she kept in a locked drawer in her bedroom, and those drawings were primarily focused on his jawline and facial structure, although she had drawn his butt on more than a few occasions. And his arms. And his torso. What could she say? She looked at him a lot, studied the way he moved, and he inspired her to create. In any case, she’d absolutely love to see him naked, obviously, because who wouldn’t, but to draw him… get it together Mabel, you’re getting all worked up!), which… was not going to happen, tragically.

He’d never shared anything regarding his soulmate with her. That meant, of course, that he hadn’t found his yet, nor was he in the unusual soulmarked-but-not-knowing-with-whom situation that Mabel herself was in. As indicated by his insistence on telling her in person (which he had, of course, never insisted upon before, or even expressed a passing desire to tell her something in person rather than digitally), whatever it was must have been more important than anything he’d ever told her.

What was more important than him finding his soulmate? She couldn’t think of another possibility. Couldn’t even fathom it, no matter how hard she tried. Unfortunately, she couldn’t really fathom the possibility that he might’ve found his soulmate, either, but that was primarily because she didn’t want to.

What would that be like, to watch him with his soulmate? Knowing Mabel’s luck, she’d never find out who hers was (she’d clearly been around him her whole life and had yet to find him, so what were the odds she’d figure it out later? Once she left school, she’d probably start experiencing withdrawal symptoms, which would be horrible, but she had long since accepted the likelihood of that), and since she saw Dipper regularly and talked to him all the time, it wasn’t likely she’d get over him.

Family gatherings could be a real bitch.

Which meant, of course, that Mabel was doomed to suffer withdrawal symptoms for the rest of her life while watching the man she loved, who just so happened to be her twin brother, find his soulmate, fall in love, get married, and have children. It was when she considered things like that that the idea of regularly consuming Smile Dip sounded fan-freaking-tastic. At least then she’d be too out of it to suffer.

Mabel wasn’t one for wallowing in self-pity and misery. She was a fairly positive person. Whenever she found herself moping or depressed, she could usually pull herself out of it. In that respect, she was tremendously lucky, as not everyone was capable of that.

But with this, loving Dipper (or rather, being in love with Dipper, which she very much was)... there was this sadness deep inside of her that she just couldn’t seem to shake. She could tuck it away in the back of her mind, pretend it wasn’t there. At least for awhile, anyway. But it never left. Not really. It was always there, in the box she’d locked it away in. Sometimes, though, the box broke open, and it would consume her, like shadows consuming light.

When she thought of Dipper with his soulmate, smiling at a nameless, faceless stranger, beaming at his wedding (knowing Dipper, he’d insist she be a bridesmaid. What agony that would be), holding a child that wasn’t Mabel’s, could never, ever be Mabel’s (Mabel would probably be the godmother, too), the shadows never failed to consume her.

She pulled her legs to her chest, resting her forehead on her knees, and let the tears fall.

#gravity falls fanfiction #gf fanfiction #Pinecest #Mabel pines #dipper pines #fanfiction #fanfic #looks like someone picked a whole bushel of oopsie daisies #my writing

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thegreatlibraryfangirl · 3 years

Text

Ephemera Meta

New little project! I’m going through all the series’ ephemera to see which ones might be available/discoverable by Khalila or Wolfe or the Curia/researchers post-series, because

a) potential angst

and b) in general knowing what Archivist Khalila will and won’t know.

Note, there is an absolutely valid interpretation that I am ignoring completely when I make this list: the interpretation that every single ephemera is only shown to us, the readers, because the Library has copies of it.

That aside, I’m going into this with a couple of rules.

1. The Library monitors Codex messages and journals. That shouldn’t necessarily mean that they store everything, but it does for my purposes lol. So assume all Codex messages and journal entries are available in some Obscurist records somewhere unless their destruction/transference to the Black Archives is mentioned.

2. If it’s a paper note to the Artifex/Archivist, I’m assuming it’s kept secretly in their offices unless its destruction/transference to the Black Archives is mentioned.

Why would they keep incriminating shit in their offices? Because at no point do they think they’re going to lose power. The Archivist sets up the arena showdown at the end of Smoke and Iron being so confident in his victory and in his power over the Library that he invites the Scholars to come and WATCH him murder the “rebels”. That goes tits up, then the Archivist flees. There’s no time for him to get rid of anything from his office.

3. I’m assuming that everything sent to the Black Archives was destroyed, though there is some wiggle room here because the pack did both read and take texts away. (We know they didn’t take away everything they read - see Glain in Sword and Pen talking about poisonous gases.)

Yes - available for Khalila/Wolfe to find.

No - unavailable.

Ink and Bone below!

Prologue:

text of a historical letter, the original of which is kept under glass in the Great Library of Alexandria, and Codexed under the Core Collection

Yes.

Chapter 1:

Decree of the work submitted by the Scholar Johannes Gutenberg in the year 1455. Restricted to the Black Archives under the order of the Archivist Magister, for use of Curators only.

This is a potential question mark - Black Archives say No, accessible to Curia says there might be a copy or two floating around.

No (for now)

Chapter 2:

Text of a letter by Thomas Paine of the Territory of America, written in 1795. Consigned to the Black Archives; not available to the Codex. Access strictly controlled. Marked as SEDITIOUS CONTENT.

Is this available via the Library, absolutely not. Do I believe there are handwritten copies of this floating all around Burner territory and that this gets printed very, very quickly.

Yes (in a weird way)

Also it’s fascinating that Caine chose Alessandro Volta as the censorious Archivist here - the inventor of the electric battery. Guess it explains why the Tower has electricity.

Chapter 3:

Text of a note sent via Codex to Jess Brightwell from his mother. // A separate note from Callum Brightwell, attached to the same message. Suspected of hidden coded messaging and reviewed by Obscurists. Found to be inconclusive.

Here is all the proof we need, very early on, that the Library reads Codex messages.

Yes.

Chapter 4:

Text of secured Library correspondence between the Obscurist Magnus and Scholar Tyler, stationed at the Oxford Serapeum. // Handwritten paper message from Scholar Tyler in Oxford to Morgan Hault

With much regret I am calling this paper note lost. It was sent on paper to Morgan, and I don’t see how she could possibly have kept it through the upheavals of canon - nor why she would, given its incredibly incriminating nature.

No.

EDIT. IMPORTANT EDIT. This maaaayyyy be what the Artifex refers to in chapter 10′s ephemera “there is ample evidence from Scholar Tyler and other discovered correspondence that the postulant Hault is, in fact, an Obscurist.” So they may have it.

Yes????

Keria’s “secured correspondence” seems much more likely to have been kept - though what does secured mean? Secure to send, or held securely? Eskander can access it, surely.

Yes.

Chapter 5:

An excerpt from a work entitled On Press-Printing: A New Beginning by Research Scholar Christopher Wolfe, submitted to the Artifex for peer review and brought by him to the Curators of the Library. Marked as SEDITIOUS CONTENT and sent to the Black Archives by the order of the Archivist Magister, for his eyes only.

We know that this (well, a similarly-titled work) was in the Black Archives. I love @rosalind-of-arden‘s idea that Santi took it, but I’m also intrigued by the “for his eyes only” bit. When we see the Black Archives, it’s just storage. Morgan specifically checks it for traps etc and doesn’t find anything stopping anyone from using the huge Codex, or touching any book.

So does that mean that the Archivist can pull this up to his Codex? I’m claiming that it does, and that there might be a copy sat on a Blank somewhere even if the original WAS burnt.

Yes.

Yes, I’m stretching, shut up. Notes to pick at later: Keria does say that Wolfe’s work is all put in the Black Archives, rather than just destroyed outright.

Chapter 6:

Text of a message in the hand of Scholar Wolfe, directly to the Artifex Magnus // and his response.

No details about this being paper or “secured” or whatever, so I’m saying this is on record.

Yes.

Chapter 7:

Text of a letter under the name of Scholar Christopher Wolfe to Aristede Danton, father of Guillaume Danton. Not written by him. // Message sent the same day in the hand of Scholar Wolfe, addressed to the Artifex Magnus. //A reply from the Artifex to Scholar Wolfe, received the same day.

This is available,

Yes.

I also personally think it was written by Santi - it’s stuffed full of terrible propaganda-y bullshit but I’m not sure who else it could have been. Note, “Oxford expeditionary journey” oh god.

Wolfe’s note/reply is also available. Note, Aristede is an Ancient Greek name.

Yes

And I am really fighting the urge to go off on multiple tangents a) handwriting as identity b) how often was stuff forged in Wolfe’s name.

Chapter 8:

Private paper note from Obscurist Magnus Maryanna Sfetsos to Lingua Magnus Cao Xueqin, 1750. // Text of a message from Lingua Magnus Cao Xueqin, 1750, to the Archivist Magister // Text of a reply from the Archivist Magister, written the next day.

The paper message I think must be gone, unless it’s been preserved secretly by Cao Xueqin‘s descendants?

The Curia messages are visible - no reason for them not to be, especially not to Archivist Khalila Seif.

Yes

Note: you can see that this Archivist is incredibly corrupted and dangerous and buys into the “god-king” stuff too from Cao Xueqin ‘s very careful message.

Chapter 9:

Directive from the Obscurist Magnus to the Aylesbury High Garda commander. Confirmed in his reply, without annotations.

Yup, no reason why this wouldn’t be kept. Sorry Wolfe, your mum’s on record as saying you’re dispensable, AGAIN.

Yes

Chapter 10:

Codex message from Scholar Christopher Wolfe to the Artifex Magnus // Response from the Artifex Magnus to Christopher Wolfe.

Nothing to say this is private in any way.

Yes.

Chapter 11:

Text of a private paper correspondence between Frederick Brightwell and his uncle Callum Brightwell, written in a family code for safety and decoded to read.

I don’t see how the Library would have this.

Chapter 12:

Ciphered message sent via Codex. Sender and recipient both erased in a manner that indicates tampering from within the Library. // Handwritten message from the Artifex Magnus to the Archivist, sealed and sent to the Black Archives. Marked for immediate disposal.

Ok, so if I’m interpreting this correctly, the MESSAGE exists on record within the Library - the Artifex just got him and the recipient (Burners) erased. So that’s a Yes, with a useful note that that can be done.

The handwritten message is a No, with interesting detail that it was sealed (envelope?) and marked for immediate disposal. Note: More things that can be done.

Tangent note: headcanon for why it was marked for immediate disposal - it’s talking about murdering Wolfe, and we know that Keria has access to the Black Archives.

Chapter 13:

Text of a handwritten note from the head of the Burner faction in London to Danton in Toulouse.

No reason to assume this was kept/detected by the Library.

No.

Note, I missed this and had never realised that Postulant Danton literally was the son of a Burner.

Chapter 14:

An urgent communication from the Obscurist Magnus to the Artifex Magister. // Reply from the Artifex Magnus to the Obscurist Magnus.

(This is alerting him to Thomas, ugh. And then the weirdly obsessed Artifex bitches about Wolfe still being alive) I don’t see why this can’t be in the Library records, both of them.

Yes

Chapter 15:

A handwritten message from Obscurist Magnus Keria Morning delivered to her son, Scholar Christopher Wolfe.

Ugh this is such a raw note. It only stays if Wolfe kept it, which is up to individual headcanon. I don’t think he did. No.

Note: there are public intra-city trains in Alexandria, Jess gets one to get him to the High Garda compound)

Chapter 16:

Transcript of the questioning of Postulant Thomas Schreiber by the Artifex Magnus, transferred to the Black Archives under orders of the Curators.

oh god Thomas. This has been sent to the Black Archives, I’m assuming it was destroyed, but it’s so very emotive if someone DOES find it that I’m tempted to finagle it out. Maybe more than one copy was made and stored in the Artifex’s office, maybe one of the pack took it out of the Archives. So, No but headcanon Yes lol.

#the great library #Rachel Caine #Ephemera #the great library meta

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my-major-is-k-howard · 4 years

Text

Lover

Inspired by “Lover” by Taylor Swift. This chapter might be my favorite chapter of the whole story (although the one after this is up there too). Thank you to everybody who has been reading my work. It really means a lot to me. You have all my love. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ And, as always, enjoy!

Word Count: 2585

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3

————————————————————

Ch. 4 - I’ve Loved You Three Summers

Anne admired the Polaroid a little longer before moving on to the next picture on the line. Tears pricked the edges of Anne’s eyes as she admired the next photo, flooded with memories from that day. It was barely a month after the event at the club but this picture had a completely different set of emotions attached to it.

Cathy’s novel had finally finished the editing process and she had specially requested six books to give an exclusive preview to the most meaningful people in her life, the queens. The Polaroid pictured the first time Anne read the contents of Cathy’s novel.

Little did she know at the time, the Polaroid would also hold one of the most important moments of her life within its white borders.

~~~~~

“You’re gonna let me have a sneak peak though. Right, Cathy?” Anne asked her girlfriend with pleading eyes.

“I already told you, Anne! You’ll see it along with everyone else,” Cathy laughed. Cathy clutched the books she was holding a little tighter, preparing just in case the gremlin decided to launch an impromptu raid on her precious stash of novels.

“But why can’t I look before them? I’m your girlfriend! Don’t you love me?” Anne pleaded, jutting out her bottom lip in a childish pout.

“I love you more than you know. But, that doesn’t mean you get special treatment this time,” Cathy smirked. Anne let out a fake gasp and clutched her chest as though she’d been shot.

“This is the utmost betrayal, Cathy.” Anne did her best to look hurt but the mischievous glint never left her eyes.

“I’m sure I’ll make it up to you soon,” Cathy whispered. Anne swore she saw a look of fear flash in Cathy’s eyes but it was gone before Anne could properly register it. Anne closed the gap between them and pressed a loving kiss to Cathy’s lips that was quickly reciprocated by the other girl.

“Will you show me the book now?” Anne cheekily asked as she pulled away.

Cathy chuckled to herself before responding. “You have the patience of a child in a candy store.”

Somehow, Cathy managed to fend off Anne’s persistent nagging and attempts of stealing the novel until the other queens arrived.

Anne opened the front door in a hurry and quickly ushered the other queens to the living room where Cathy was waiting for them. Cathy chuckled at seeing the queens’ confused expressions at Anne’s lack of greeting.

“I’m sorry. Anne has practically been begging me to show her the novel, and I don’t think it’s possible for her to wait any longer,” Cathy giggled.

“It took you all long enough to get here too,” Anne mumbled but she smiled at all of the queens to show she had no actual hard feelings. Anne took a seat next to Cathy on the couch as the other queens sat down around the room.

“I think I speak for all of us when I say we are all extremely proud of you, Cathy,” Aragon said as she chose her spot next to Jane. “You’ve worked so hard on this book and we know you poured so much of yourself into it.” Aragon smiled at her goddaughter as she finished speaking.

“We love you, dear, and we are so honored to share this special moment with you,” Jane added.

Anne turned to see that Cathy was shyly wiping away a tear from her eye before she spoke. “I wouldn’t want to share it with anybody else. I love you all and you each mean so much to me. You’ve encouraged me to keep working on this novel and pursue my dream of being an author, and because of that I am now holding physical copies of my dream. So, thank you.”

Cathy smiled at each of the queens, ending with Anne who was looking back at her with adoring eyes. Anne had always been her biggest supporter in being a writer. She was immensely proud of how far her girlfriend had come, especially now as she was holding her novel that was about to be published in her hands. “I’m so proud of you,” Anne whispered to Cathy, noticing that her eyes glistened at her words. “You’re amazing, Cathy.”

“I love you,” Cathy whispered back and pressed a kiss to Anne’s cheek. Anne smiled and watched as Cathy got up and gave each queen a copy of her novel. As she returned to her place next to Anne, Cathy shyly handed Anne her novel. Anne gingerly took it in her hands.

Anne took in every detail of the cover. She traced each of the golden letters of “Her Story” with her finger, admiring the title Cathy had chosen. Then, her eyes focused on the name under the title. Catherine Parr. Her Cathy. Anne once again was filled with pride at the thought of her girlfriend finally achieving her dreams.

“Oh, look at the dedication page!” Kat squealed, snapping Anne out of her thoughts. She looked up to see her cousin holding Cathy’s book in one hand and her pink Polaroid camera in the other.

“Kat! I hadn’t even noticed you brought your camera,” Anne commented.

Anne saw fear flash in Kat’s eyes which seemed very out of place. “Oh, um, yeah! I brought it along because-”

“She got this new type of film for her camera and she’s been very excited to try it out,” Cleves finished, giving Kat a pointed look that left Anne very confused. She heard Cathy breathe a sigh of relief next to her, so Anne turned to face her.

“Babe, are you okay?” Anne asked, suddenly worried about her girlfriend. Cathy seemed very tense as she clutched her copy of the book. When she met Anne’s eyes however, her anxiety visibly melted away. She placed her novel on the side table before responding.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” Cathy smiled at Anne to assure her girlfriend that she was indeed fine. “But you should turn to the dedication page. It’s my favorite part of the book.”

Anne grinned at Cathy before opening the cover and flipping through the first few pages of the novel to finally get to the dedication page. Tears pricked at the edges of her eyes when she saw what was written there:

For my wonderful fellow queens Catherine, Anne, Jane, Anna, and Katherine. You all inspire me everyday to be the best version of myself.

Anne smiled when she read those words, knowing that Cathy truly meant what she wrote. She cared so much about her friends, and using the dedication page of her novel was a small token of gratitude in Cathy’s eyes for the love the queens had given her over the years.

Anne turned to Cathy and kissed her on the cheek. “That’s really sweet, love.”

Cathy blushed before responding. “Turn the page, Annie.”

Anne looked at Cathy for a confused second before turning the page of the book. On the other side of the dedication page, Anne noticed that there was a handwritten message addressed to her. She recognized the handwriting immediately as belonging to the woman next to her. She shot Cathy a quick glance, noticing her shuffle for something in her pockets, before returning her gaze to the words on the page.

My beloved Anne,

It’s been 1335 days since you asked me to be your girlfriend and my life has become the most magical dream every day since then. I never thought that a single person could make me as happy as you make me but, as always, you manage to surprise me. Since that warm autumn day, I have fallen in love with your beautiful laugh, your adorable smile, your stunning emerald eyes, your unique sense of humor, your gentle whispers in the middle of the night, your desire to protect the people you love, your big heart that you show in everything you do, your warm and gentle kisses... you. I’ve fallen in love with every part of you.

You’ve read my journal that I gave you last Christmas which expresses the raw and unfiltered emotion and love that I have for you. This novel is a refined version of that same love. It is inspired by you and I dedicate this book to our love. You have always encouraged me to write and to keep pushing toward my goals. I don’t know what I did to deserve such a supportive and loving girlfriend but I thank my lucky stars for that every day.

Anne, I love you more than I could ever hope to express in a lifetime but I want to spend the rest of our days trying to show you how much I truly love you. I want to wake up next to you every morning and fall asleep in your arms at the end of each day. I want to visit the library and small coffee shops with you. I want to hold hands and kiss in the rain. I want to cuddle and watch movies together. I even want to annoy Cleves with our kissing whenever we have the queens over for a movie night. I want to cry with you on your worst days and celebrate with you on your best days. I want to travel the world with you and have new adventures. I want to have children with you. I want to grow old with you. I want everything.

1335 days ago you asked me to be your girlfriend but I want them all. Every single day for the rest of our lives. So, Anne…

The message stopped abruptly, leaving Anne very confused and emotional. She wiped the tears that were trailing down her cheeks away before saying, “Cathy, you didn’t finish the-”

The flow of Anne’s words immediately stopped when she looked up at the sight before her. Cathy was no longer sitting on the couch. Rather, she was right in front of Anne, kneeling down on one knee. Anne gasped as she saw Cathy reach inside her pocket and pull out a small velvet box. Anne could feel the tears pooling in her eyes and threatening to pour down her face as Cathy slowly opened the box to reveal a beautiful diamond ring, adorned with two emeralds adjacent to the diamond.

Cathy took one of Anne’s hands in her own and looked up at her girlfriend with a vulnerable look, laced with hope but also fear visible in her eyes. She took a shaky breath before speaking.

“Will you marry me?”

Anne could no longer hold back the deluge of tears when she heard Cathy say those words. Tossing the book in her lap aside, Anne squeezed Cathy’s hand and nodded. “YES! Ohmygod Yes!”

Cathy broke into the widest smile before also joining Anne by bursting with happy tears. Anne squealed with joy before hugging Cathy. Of course, clumsy as she was, Anne used a little too much force and knocked both of them to the ground. The newly engaged couple broke out in laughter, sprawled across the floor and still embracing one another. Anne peered into Cathy’s mesmerizing brown eyes, getting lost in the intensity of love that they reflected. Anne leaned in and pressed a firm yet loving kiss to Cathy’s lips, immediately melting into Cathy.

“So, like, aren’t you going to put the ring on her finger? Do you even know how this works?”

Anna’s words broke the couple out of their bubble of bliss and brought them back to the real world, where the queens were quietly watching the interaction play out. Anne looked around and saw Jane wiping away her tears while Aragon was dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. Cleves had a wide grin plastered on her face while Kat looked like she was holding back a squeal of joy. Kat was also cradling a new Polaroid picture that Anne was desperate to see already. Before she could mention anything to Kat, Cathy quickly spoke up. “Of course I know how this works, Cleves! I didn’t spend six months preparing for this moment not knowing how this works!”

Cathy’s response was rushed and the deep blush on her cheeks gave away her embarrassment. She parted from Anne and reached for the velvet box that she had dropped when Anne had all but tackled her to the floor. Cathy pulled the ring out, then reached for Anne’s left hand.

Anne swooned as Cathy slowly slid the ring onto her finger, looking up to meet the eyes of her fiancée. Her eyes glistened with tears once again when she saw the look of adoration on Cathy’s face as she admired the ring on her hand. Anne followed her gaze and took her first proper look at the ring on her finger. The thin band of gold held a beautiful diamond in the center with two smaller emeralds on either side of the diamond. It was absolutely stunning and Anne fell in love with it immediately. It was almost like it was made for her.

“Do you like it?” Cathy asked nervously. “If not then we can exchange it for-”

“Are you kidding?!” Anne interrupted. “I love it! It’s beautiful, Cathy!”

Anne kissed her fiancée fervently before showing off her ring to the other queens. Her friends admired the engagement ring, each taking their turn to complement its beauty before Anne went back to her spot next to Cathy who had returned to sit on the couch. Cathy opened her arms and Anne immediately cuddled into her, resting her head in the crook of Cathy’s neck.

“Soooo, Kat. You just so happened to be testing new film out, huh. What a coincidence,” Anne stated sarcastically.

“I may have mentioned what I was planning to them beforehand, love,” Cathy said to the girl in her arms. “Kat, did you manage to get a good picture?”

“Yeah, I think so!” Kat answered excitedly. “It’s starting to develop now.” She gestured to the picture she was still holding.

“I wanna see!” Anne exclaimed, not able to wait any longer to see her and Cathy’s special moment frozen in time. Kat obliged and handed the picture to her older cousin. Though it was faint, Anne could make out the details of the picture. Anne was holding “Her Story” in one hand while the other was clutching Cathy’s hand. Anne had a hopeful expression on her face, only a few seconds away from bursting into tears. Cathy was down on one knee in front of her, gazing lovingly at her soon-to-be fiancée with the same hopeful expression reflected in her eyes. The ring gleamed beautifully in the light, as if the diamond was refracting sunlight at the same time that the photo was taken.

Anne heard Cathy sniffle above her and she turned to see her wipe away a few tears that were falling down her cheeks. “Thank you, Kat. It’s perfect.”

“It was my pleasure. I’m just glad I didn’t ruin the surprise,” Kat answered sheepishly, remembering her near slip up earlier.

“And you were close too,” Aragon responded. “We’re just lucky that Anne is an oblivious idiot 99% of the time.”

“Hey! It’s only like 86% of the time, Catherine!” Anne shouted back.

The queens laughed together, all elated by the life-changing events that they had just witnessed.

After a few moments, Cathy broke the comfortable silence. “I think it’s time we bring out the champagne. Don’t you think, Anne?”

“Yeah! Let’s get the real party started!”

#parrlyn #parrleyn #parrlyn fanfic #six the musical #six the musical fanfic #anne boleyn #catherine parr #anne boleyn x catherine parr

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fmdjoosungarchive · 3 years

Photo

【✧】━━━━ ♥ H A P P I N E S S a l b u m d e t a i l s ♥ ━━━━【✧】

features:

1 visual novel (photo & lyric book)

1 album cd

1 of 6 random bookmarks

1 of 4 random photocards

1 of 2 folded posters

happiness, stylized as HAPPINESS, is the second album, third solo comeback, and first full-length album from element’s sun.

the album concept came about while thinking of the tracklist for the album, i remembered mono had opened up again, which i had thought of for sung’s first album, and obviously didn’t end up using. considering the emotional content of the album had a lot to do with states of negative emotion, i wanted to include other songs not from mono that i’ve wanted for sung, but didn’t have place for, being nosedive and happiness. as maria helped me come to the realization, mono is an album that is really hard to break apart because the production is harmonious. so, sung, who loves books, came up with the idea after deciding on using nosedive, to bookend the songs from mono in. nosedive introduces the concept, happiness rounds it out in a personal way. essentially, a prologue and epilogue. each song from mono functions like a chapter of a book, and one continuous storyline of experiencing and accepting strong emotion. so the format of the cover, and photobook, mimic a novel, to express this concept.

all handwritten-looking lines (the tracklist on the back of the album, the song lyrics on the bookmarks, the lyric pages in the photobook) are handwritten by sung. the bookmarks are also hand-drawn by sung. as sung’s mun i decided to take a stance on one of the vague lines in tokyo, because sung water element, i aquarius, and waves are easier to draw than words not said. top to bottom, left to right, the lyrics are something like “someone will be consoled by looking at your thorns for sure” (moonchild) “like fruits ripen after flowers wither away” (everythingoes) “i’ve already become a part of you” (seoul) “i’m sorry, i can’t give up on myself” (uhgood) “life is a wave that sometimes you cannot see” (tokyo) “when it rains, i feel a bit like i have a friend” (forever rain) the purpose of these bookmarks is to give comfort to those who use them, and remind them of the messages he attempted to convey through the songs. (& thank you to luna for helping me make sure the lines make sense standalone!)

a running theme with the concept of this album, is that the cover and title seem bright, over the top, and... for lack of a better word, happy. however, it’s all a facade. pictures from the photobook mix between dark and bright, the cd’s emojis are used only in online, distanced experiences. and the cover itself is a mishmash of everything just that side of Wrong. i was originally inspired by the cover art for j-hope’s hopeworld album, as well as these edits [x] (pls reverse image search for the creators, i’m so sorry it’s been too long n i don’t rmr where they came from)

to take away all the mystery and explain everything, the main color of the book is yellow, a color associated with happiness. the title and sung’s stage name are stylized in big, blocky, dramatic letters. the focus piece starts with an irl polaroid, with real tapes, and real stickers. stickers read ‘hope’ and ‘love’ and feature hearts, smiley faces, and rainbows. everything within the polaroid, however, is fake. the colors are wonky, compared to real life. a mountain backdrop rounds a cliff, and a waterfall that’s actually a cassette tape that’s losing its color. all of the happiness, the color, the music, is dripping out, and even dripping into the ‘real world’ part of the piece. it expresses both how people hide behind a fake mask of happiness, and how emotions are real, the full rainbow spectrum of them, and need to be felt, otherwise they will leave completely, even the best emotions of them.

it’s an album cover that seems a lot happier at first glance than it truly is. this is continued onto the back, where the biggest words there are ‘cheer up’ and ‘be strong’, when, if reading the actual ‘synopsis’, you would find that the point is to not rely on giving others these words.

as the table of contents states, there is also a foreword/author’s note, handwritten by sung, which i will Probably write out as well, but this is already so long i’ll leave that for a separate post.

also, if u hate any of this, pls b nice to me anyway lmao i’m not an artist n a bih is fragile n has been working on this for Months n Months so pls b nice,, tho i WILL say i’m super proud of that cassette. the best thing i’ve ever drawn

#era: happiness #aesthetic #self para #(wc: over 600)#i put sm thought and love into this so anyone who reads all dis gets a cookie #per usual tumblr will probably fuck quality so open pics if u wanna zoom in and see everything!!#n yes im already using pics from jongins solo #i'm more disappointed i couldnt find a place for the Painted Nails #anyway ill shut up i love this era smsmsmsmmmssmsmsmsm

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dolly-decadatia · 3 years

Text

Notes 12/1/20 s.c book

Incorporate altered consciousness into practice as soon as I move to Nevada.

Reach state of ecstasy during rites- incorporate Invocation of Lust rite from LaVey?

Eww so much gender binary bullshit... kind of toying with the idea of pop culture paganism using Spike and Drusilla but grossed out by the gender binary and heteronormativity of the god and goddess and I don’t want that ickiness all over my comfort characters. Something to ponder further.

Reincarnation is brought up. Not sure how I feel about that either. This all made so much more sense to me when I was like 12.

Magic is the practice of moving natural energies to effect needed change.

I’m like 2 pages in and he’s annoying me already. I was definitely remembering Scott Cunningham with a nostalgia lens.

Next chapter is The Deities. Skipping this completely.

Chap 3 Magic:

2 main sources of energy: personal power, earth power.

Personal power- is the life force that sustains our earthly existences. We absorb energy from the moon and sun, from water and food. We release it during movement, exercise, and sex. Even exhaling releases some power, though we recoup the loss through inhaling. In Magic, personal power is aroused, infused with a specific purpose, and directed toward its goal.

Earth power- is that which resides within your planets and in it’s natural products. Stones, trees, wind, flames, water, crystals, and scents all possess unique, specific powers that can be used during magical ritual.

No matter the magical system, personal power must be infused with the need and then released.

I am more than comfortable incorporating negative Magic in my practice. Scott is super judgmental and priggish and I am not feeling his sanctimonious ranting on the topic.

You don’t need elaborate rites every-time. If nothing else, light a candle, settle down before it and concentrate on your magical need. Trust yourself.

Chap 4 tools

The broom- oh lawd he really thinks there were Wiccans during the burning times before Gardner was born. I can’t with him....

Anyway the broom is used for spiritual cleansing (don’t let the bristles touch the ground). Visualize the broom sweeping out the astral buildup that occurs where humans live. This purifies the area to allow smoother ritual workings. Since it is a purifier, the broom is linked with the element of water. Thus it is also used in all types of water spells including those of love and psychic workings. To make your own broom the classic formula is a ash staff, birch twigs, and a willow binding. The ash is protective and the birch is purifying. The willow is religious and therefore non applicable. A tiny broom of pine needles can also be used. There are many old spells involving brooms 🧹. In general the 🧹 is a purificatory and protective instrument used to ritually cleanse the area for Magic or to guard a home by laying in across the threshold, and under the bed, in windowsills, or on doors 🚪.

I personally like cinnamon brooms 🧹. I used to customize them for the sabbaths when I was Wiccan with colored ribbon and sprigs of the appropriate herbs or flowers. I miss doing that.

The wand:

Instrument of invocation. Also used to direct energy, draw magical 🧙‍♂️ symbols or a circle ⭕️ on the ground, to point towards danger ⚠️ while perfectly balanced on a witch’s hand ✋ or even stir a brew in a cauldron. The wand represents the element of air.

Traditional woods used for wand: willow, elder, oak, apple, peach, hazel, cherry 🍒 and more.

Can even use a wooden dowel and carve and/or paint it.

Crystal can also be used.

Any stick you find will be infused with energy and power.

Censer:

Incense burner. I liked the gold swingy ones because they remind me of Spike but I’m uncomfortable with the concept of a breeding pair of deities and don’t want to taint spike and Dru by pigeon holing them into those gross roles. Really really like that censer though... will have to ponder.

When no specific incense is called for in rituals and spells, use your own intuition and creativity in determining which blend to use.

Spirits can be called to appear in visible form in the smoke rising from the censer. He said “command” which seems rude and I don’t vibe with bullying spirits. I want to be their friends. He also said this is not a part of Wicca. I’m not Wiccan sooooo. C’mon incense ghosties. It’s party time at my place .

Sitting while breathing slowly and watching the smoke can be an entrancing act, and you might slip into an alternate state of consciousness.

Cauldron- ancient vessel of cooking and brew making, steeped in magical tradition and mystery. (Grain of salt- he’s talking about Wicca which is not ancient at all.) the cauldron is the container in which magical transformations occur; the sea of primeval creation. The cauldron is often a focal point of ritual. During spring rites it is often filled with fresh water 💧 and flowers 💐; during winter ❄️ a fire 🔥 may be kindled within the cauldron but the reasoning behind this is very religious so.....

The cauldron should be should be iron, resting on 3 legs, with its opening smaller than its widest part. It can be used for scrying by filling it with water and gazing into it.

Athame:

Used for directing energy not cutting. Often dull, usually double-edged with a black handle because black absorbs power. When the athame is used in ritual a bit of energy gets stored in the handle for later use. A sword can be used (like in Church of Satan rituals) if space permits. My trailer is so small it’s tempting to temporarily use a pocket knife until I move 😂. Scott says knives are phallic but pre op trans men aren’t shaped like knives. Coming out has really opened my eyes to how bullshitty concepts of yonic or phallic are. Not feeling it.

Bolline -

White handled practical working knife you actual use as a knife unlike the athame.

Crystal sphere- used for divination. They remind me of Dru because anything psychic does but like I said- I don’t want to disrespect Drusilla by show horning her into the Wiccan idea of goddess. Can be used to store energy or receive messages. Periodic exposure to moonlight, or rubbing the crystal with fresh mugwort will increase its ability to spark our psychic powers. It may be the center of full moon 🌕 rituals.

Cup- simply a cauldron on a stem. Scott calls it a fertility symbol. Gross. Not in my practice. Contains ritual beverage imbibed during ritual. I need to decide what my liquid will be. It was cranberry juice when I was a teen witch, wine as an adult, and Jack Daniels when I was a pop culture pagan (for spike). Cup can be any substance. I have an awesome baphomet goblet in the storage unit I can use. I still love satanic imagery.

Pentacle- Wiccan specific. Non applicable.

Book of shadows- can be handwritten or digital. Ideally rites should be memorized which is daunting with my learning disability and memory issues brought on by depression but I’ll try.

Bell-

Ritual instrument of incredible antiquity. (Source needed on that, Scott). Ringing a bell unleashes vibrations that have powerful effects according to its volume, tone, and material of construction. Also rung to to ward off evil spirits (what does he mean by that? Let’s not be frigging fluffbunnies) to halt storms or evoke good energies. Placed in cupboards or hung on the door, it guards the home. Bells are sometimes rung in ritual to mark various sections and signal a spell’s beginning or end.

As you collect each tool, you can prepare it for ritual. If old, it should be stripped of all associations and energies; you don’t know who owned the tool or what purposes it may have been used for. To begin this process, clean the tool physically using the appropriate method. When the object is clean and dry, bury it in the earth or a bowlful of sand or salt for a few days, allowing the energies to disperse. An alternate method involves plunging the tool into the sea, river, lake, or even your own bathtub 🛁 after purifying the 💦 by adding a few pinches of salt 🧂.

Use common sense and don’t wreck your tool with water or salt if the material would get wrecked.

After a few days dig up the tool, wipe it clean, and it is ready for magic 🪄. If you use the 💦 method, leave the object submerged for a few hours, then dry it.

There are consecration ceremonies later In the book. Use common sense and edit them as needed to make them non secular or hunt on tumblr for alternate methods.

#atheist witch #secular witchcraft #witch journey #pop culture paganism #ex wiccan

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