#and i have things crammed into every single shelf in every place that will fit

[lunar-wandering]

i seriously need to move out cause my room isn't big enough to hold all of my stuff anymore and it's genuinely causing problems

[spadesolace]

(figuratively) cheshire! yeji x fem! reader

synopsis: were you hypnotized or were you truly in love with the girl that disappears and appears when she chooses to. maybe you've gone insane and she's simply a figment of your imagination.

spade speaks: this was supposed to be posted on the 12th but i got so busy so... i had fun with this prompt and thank jade-jini from tumblr dot com cause this prompt was lowkey rotting in my notes and it popped up in a conversation.

you’ve long been fascinated by the idea of hypnosis.

is it magic or acting - you never seem to get the grasp of whether it's real or fake. having to watch clips on youtube and questioning every single detail, from the reactions to the prompts; you’re left wondering.

you wonder if hypnosis could be used to make someone fall in love. looking at someone and immediately falling in love – not your cup of tea.

love at first sight wasn’t a trope you enjoyed. falling for someone based on their physical appearance made you feel off in some way. there are pretty girls you walk past on your way to class but not a single one that could make you go. “yeah, i’m in love with her”.

so, you merely believed that people who experienced love at first sight were either hypnotised or it was purely infatuation (or lust).

believing that you won’t experience it at all.

until you were on your late night convenience store run around the neighbourhood. with the city asleep, no cars coming by, or any possible dog to chase you; you enjoyed walking at night given that the world is asleep and you couldn’t possibly bump into someone you knew. no one sane enough would be out at 2 in the morning just to get snacks while cramming chapters for their exams.

maybe you’re a bit insane.

as you walk inside hoping no one aside from the staff to be there. in the same aisle as you, stood a girl wearing a jacket from your university, hair in the shade of a light orange almost blonde, looking at the snacks you were planning on getting. you notice the hair right away, no one in your class has that bright hair colour aside from her. it was too late to go to another convenience store.

she’s already looking at you. 

looking into her striking eyes, something felt off. there’s something about her that you never understood. how’d she’d have guys falling for her, give her the things she desires only to leave them chasing after her.

maybe she likes the chase.

you were never one to act impulsively, especially when it comes to interacting with acquaintances.

she’s looking at you, like there’s some sort of spell and you can’t look away. even forcing yourself - you’re stuck as she walks past you to the counter.

she gives off such a peculiar scent, musky, powdery, with hints of something floral. walking by you again, she could only smile as your eyes were focused on her leaving figure.

a sudden urge to follow her tries to take over you but you shake the feeling away as you look back at the now empty stack of your favourite snack that she bought.

leaving the store with your second favourite and confusion in your face. the scene replaying in your mind - you’ve seen her before but that entire thing is nothing but a huge question mark and profanities running in your mind. how can someone who is irrelevant in your life make a huge change.

what the fuck was that?

————————————————

it happened again. this time you were at the library finishing a paper. working alone, knowing that the library isn’t a place where most students would come to study but more so sleep.

peaceful, quiet, not much going on aside from the fact that she is right next to you, stopping by the shelf next to your table and scanning the row of books that aren’t even in any of your majors.

dumbfounded looking at her and taking note of every single detail there is to her. bright coloured hair is now black with a chic comfy fit that was different from her somewhat sporty outfit the night you saw her at the convenience store. red top, with jeans, and a fuzzy bucket hat. her eyes are beautiful as ever as she scans the books, finding for the one she likes or needs. you don’t know what compelled you to go over and help her out. 

“looking for something?” you smiled at her, watching the way she reacts once you’ve made your presence known.

“oh- you’re y/n, right?” surprised that she remembers your name or let alone knows your face.

“yeah, sorry, i don’t remember your name.”

“yeji.” she reaches her hand out for you. as you take it and shake her hand you’re left wondering what made you so intrigued by this girl the other night.

was it her eyes?

her aura?

or something else?

since that day, yeji was always near. in class she’ll sit next to you and help you with lessons you're confused about. at the library where you study, and she’ll be nearby reading the book she was looking for the other day, or when you’re out with friends and she’ll be there minutes after with her set of friends.

it’s just a coincidence, right? how every place you go, she’ll be nearby. some places you’ve never been to become a constant just because you see a girl with cat-like eyes every now and then.

you’ve heard rumours how she’ll make you fall only to leave you right after. it’s a dangerous game, you know it but you can’t help but be drawn in. your body has no control when it comes to her, without a doubt immediately helping her with any mundane task or if she doesn’t understand the lesson that day.

warnings here and there on how dangerous hwang yeji is but you pay no mind. not when you’re wrapped around her finger with a single please and a look from her, like you’re hypnotised.

she blends in so perfectly within the crowd, popping out of nowhere when you least expect it but one you’ve noticed is how she always asks you for a favour with that smile of hers. it would have been fine if it were only that and nothing drastic - not until that one night at ryujin’s party.

it’s embedded in your mind on how soft her lips are, caressing your face as she pulls you closer, hearing her whisper your name like a secret, and her perfume lingering in your clothing the day after that you’re scared to wash it as if it’s your last memory of her.

hwang yeji made sure you won’t forget her that easily. running away together after class, only to kiss her in private - following her like a lost puppy. every single day you’re stuck by her side, days without her felt like a step towards insanity - how did it come to this?

it started slow - finding a way to enter your life, she executed it perfectly with the little things that slowly drove you insane.

then everything went by fast - the kiss. her touches. her perfume. but her secret was where you thought you’d finally made yeji choose to settle down and not run away like a stray cat after being fed for so long. how she opened up, her walls down but yours were completely bare. she had your heart then took it, running away once she got what she wanted.

you never believed that love at first sight is real. not until you experienced it yourself that it makes you question whether it’s actually hypnosis.

hwang yeji is like the cheshire cat, she appears whenever she wants to.

“y/n, love… could you help me with this?” with that alluring smile that makes your heart skip a beat. a nod and you’re back to being her puppet lost within the midst of her collection.

like the cheshire cat, she disappears either leaving nothing or traces.

“will you stop sulking? you’re drunk, y/nn. we warned you about her and yet you still fell for her tricks.”

“the fuck do you know?! WHAT MAKES YOU THINK IT’S ONLY A TRICK WHEN YOU NEVER DATED HER!!” it was a wrong move to push yeonjun while drunk or how you clutched onto his top with tear stained cheeks. musky, powdery, with hints of something floral that you know it’s lavender at this point.

throwing a punch at him was not your best move as you’re getting kicked out - that same alluring smile with striking eyes. you hate how you fell for hwang yeji.

you’re slowly going insane as every single little thing reminds you of her. it’s insanity because how could she pull you in, take your heart and leave you bare with nothing but confusion, hatred, questioning everything.

i was hypnotised.

that’s what you choose to believe as you make your way back to her arms as if she didn’t leave you for months to rot wondering what you’ve done to make her leave you.

you’ve lost it. like alice in wonderland meeting the cheshire cat for the first time and being left curious on whether she’s leading you on or there’s a need for an exchange.

i’ve gone crazy in love.

[baoshan-sanren]

Chapter 37

of the wwx emperor au I’m thinking of calling Fuck the Canon: Happy Endings For Everyone

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 Part 1 | Chapter 8 Part 2 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 Part 1 | Chapter 15 Part 2 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 Part 1 | Chapter 22 Part 2 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28 | Chapter 29 | Chapter 30 | Chapter 31 | Chapter 32 | Chapter 33 | Chapter 34 | Chapter 35 | Chapter 36

There is no tea.

Not only is there no tea, but the Emperor’s small private study, located just beyond his personal chambers, is distinctly lacking in any accommodations necessary to serve or consume tea.

Ordinarily, WangJi would find himself irritated, even by such a harmless deception. After five days spent in the Immortal Mountain, however, he finds that he has become more patient. Perhaps not with others, but certainly with the Emperor, whose careless attitude and playful nature seem to conceal a much more complex character, one that WangJi has grown to respect.

The Lan Sect does not listen to gossip, but their new lodgings in the Jade Sword Palace make gossip impossible to avoid. Wei WuXian had lingered by WangJi’s side long past midnight, sunrise only hours away by the time they had finally parted. Yet, great many things seem to have happened since then, each one significant enough to shake the Immortal Mountain to its roots.

Before noontime tea, the Young Master of the Jin Sect had seen his betrothal annulled, the Jiang Sect had fallen out of favor, Sect Leader Nie had been given a title, and the Council seems to hover on the verge of being dissolved.  

WangJi cannot begin to guess what all of these events mean, separate or together, but he knows that Wei WuXian could not have possibly had a sufficient amount of sleep. He also knows that the world of court schemes and maneuverings, as distasteful as he finds it to be, is an inevitable reality of Wei WuXian’s existence. A part of him is even slightly curious, tentatively attempting to forge a connection between these seemingly unconnected events. Another part of him feels pity, that Wei WuXian cannot begin his day without some sort of upheaval.  

Even now, standing by the desk, wrapped in the heavy, intricate layers of the Imperial dragon robes, the Emperor is all exhaustion and tension. Less than a dozen hours have passed since they had seen each other last; WangJi had spent those hours in the peace and silence of the Imperial guest chambers. Wei WuXian looks as if he had spent them on the battleground, fighting for his life.

Still, when he sees WangJi, his face tranforms.

“Lan Zhan.”

WangJi nods in response. He is not sure when he had become fond of the way Wei WuXian says his name, but he can no longer deny the inevitable elation following on its heels. Each time, his name comes with an accompanying smile, and each time, that smile is for him alone.

“I hope you were not expecting tea,” Wei WuXian says ruefully.

WangJi does not dignify that with a response. One must adjust their expectations when faced with an Emperor who runs barefoot over the rooftops, and becomes unreasonably excited over rabbits.

“Uh, right,” Wei WuXian says, “there is something I need you to see.”

The bookcase behind the desk is filled to bursting. Perhaps, if it were only used to hold books, there would be plenty of space, and little to no chaos. But Wei WuXian seems to have filled the shelves with anything that could fit, and many things that could not, creating a precarious mess of objects that could topple at the smallest disturbance. There are numerous jade figurines of all sizes, small pots, boxes and ink stones, a few odd shapes that resemble children’s toys, books and scrolls crammed in between the objects, all with no sense or order.

It is a surprise when Wei WuXian manages to pull out three books and a flat box hiding behind them, without knocking anything to the ground. WangJi realizes that he has shifted to stand on his toes, fully expecting to have to provide assistance, or perhaps even protection from any wayward object that may come flying off the shelf to cause potential injury. No such thing occurs, however, and he places his heels back down, feeling silly for his overabundance of caution.

The flat box looks plain and light. Inside, it holds a single piece of paper, although it is immediately obvious that the paper is an Imperial Order, the Emperor’s stamp bright and bold, and difficult to miss.

WangJi does not expect Wei WuXian to simply offer the paper for perusal, without ceremony, and without any hint as to what the Order holds.

He is even more confused once he realizes that the paper is actually a declaration of succession. In the event of Wei WuXian’s death, the throne is to pass to--

He blinks. The Imperial Order is not long, for there is not much to the actual succession except naming the heir. Still, WangJi reads it again, just to be certain that he has not read the name in error.

He has not.

Well.

While he is reading, Wei WuXian is fidgeting. The dragon robes are not designed for such impatient movement, and WangJi resists the urge to grab him by the shoulders, and tell him to stop plucking at the golden thread on his sleeves. The robe probably costs more than thirty villages are capable of producing in a year.

He offers the paper back.

“I do not understand.”

“Which part?” Wei WuXian says slowly, and WangJi blinks at him.

Is there more than one part to the succession? No, he has read it twice.

“I do not understand why I need to know this,” WangJi clarifies.

“Oh,” Wei WuXian says, smiling again, but it is a nervous smile, as jittery as his hands, “This-- it is important. The-- line of succession. The person I intend to marry should know that the heir has already been chosen.”

WangJi narrows his eyes. He feels as if he had missed a part of their conversation.

His mind inevitably turns to the rumors that had flown rampant in the palace that same morning; the new title granted to the Nie Sect Leader, the dissolution of the Young Master Jin’s betrothal, and the possible dissolution of the Council.

Does-- Wei WuXian mean to marry Jin ZiXuan? It is a preposterous idea. Absolutely ridiculous.

But even so, WangJi suddenly finds that Jin ZiXuan cannot be allowed to live. WangJi will challenge him to a fight, then remove each and every one of his limbs, starting with his head. This should not be difficult to accomplish.

“You are angry,” Wei WuXian says, “I should have-- perhaps I should not have begun with the line of succession. I am not good at--“ he waves his hand, as if the motion is somehow supposed to make his words less incoherent.

He looks agitated and unhappy, and WangJi wants to help, but he is not sure how.

“You want to marry,” he says, trying to establish some logical narrative.

“Yes,” Wei WuXian says, “I want to marry. And before you disagree, I am aware that five days is an extremely limited amount of time to truly get to know another person. I have already gotten a lecture about this from A-Sang. And I have already gotten a lecture from your uncle, who can be extremely rude while remaining polite, a skill I admire, but do not want to confront again. Not if I can help it. And I-- I know life in the Immortal Mountain is probably not what you had in mind if-- if you had marriage in mind. Before today. But I think-- if you are willing to give it a chance, I could make you happy. I would like to try. To make you happy.”

There is a lag in WangJi’s understanding, as each sentence needs to be rearranged in his own mind, just so he can comprehend its meaning. Still, even with the lag, it takes him an abominably long time to fully grasp what Wei WuXian is saying.

Once he does, he finds himself shocked into stillness.

“Are you--“ Wei WuXian looks as if he means to move closer, than stops himself at the last moment, “You look-- more angry now. Than before. I understand that this is not an ideal proposal, what with the-- lack of gifts and ceremony and everything else, but--“

He sighs, apparently forgetting that his hair is neatly arranged, because his fingers make a mess of it in moments.

“An offer of marriage should not make you angry, Lan Zhan. I thought we-- does the idea of it bother you that much?”

WangJi needs to speak. Wei WuXian is capable of drawing thousands of incorrect conclusions before WangJi can formulate a single sentence, and WangJi needs to prevent this from happening, as soon as possible. But what is he supposed to say?

Clarify. This is always a good strategy, especially with Wei WuXian.

“Are you asking me to marry you?” WangJi says carefully, fully expecting Wei WuXian to laugh and deny it.

He believes that he had made his peace with the fact that the Emperor really likes him, whatever that means, when coming from a Divine Ruler. But marriage is-- something else entirely.

Even saying it out loud sounds ridiculous.

“Yes!” Wei WuXian exclaims, “Yes, I am asking you to marry me.”

“Why?” WangJi blurts out, incredulous.

“Why?” Wei WuXian repeats, the dumfounded expression on his face a perfect reflection of WangJi’s own feelings, “wh-- what do you mean, why? Because I fell in love with you. Why else would I marry someone?”

“You--“ WangJi’s throat is completely dry, and seems to have shrank into nothingness.

It is difficult to breathe, let alone form words.

This is utterly ridiculous. The most ridiculous thing WangJi has even heard, seen, or experienced, in his entire life.

And yet, he wants to hear it again. He wants Wei WuXian to say it again. The rush he had felt at those words cannot be described. It is obliterating.

Wei WuXian inches closer, his posture careful, “I still cannot tell when you are just angry, or so furious that you might try and kill me, so-- do not try and kill me? I should have probably led with the declaration of love, huh? I can try again. Lan Zhan, I am in love with you. I would really like it if you would marry me, and become the Emperor Consort. Your uncle has already given permission, and the Council is about to do so as well, or Empire will no longer have a Council. The throne already has an heir, so the succession is nothing to worry about. And since I cannot imagine sharing my life with anyone else, I can swear to take no other spouse, as long as we are both alive in the world. Is that better? Did--“

WangJi does not plan to move.

He does not plan anything. The chaos of thoughts and emotions rushing through his mind can hardly be called thinking, let alone planning. Therefore, he is astonished to find himself acting so brashly. But Wei WuXian does not waste a single moment with something so banal as surprise.

His arms immediately wrap around WangJi’s shoulders, as if they belong there. There is a faint, lingering taste of pears and honey on his lips. His mouth is soft, his breaths hot and fast, his heartbeat a forceful thunder against WangJi’s chest. The exquisite texture of the Imperial dragon robe under his hands has nothing on the actual shape of Wei WuXian’s waist. WangJi can feel the ridges of his spine through the material, enticing but also fragile, and raked with barely perceptible tremors.

Wei WuXian smiles against his mouth, then laughs, his lips pressing a quick kiss to the tip of WangJi’s nose.

“Is that a yes?” he says, “Please tell me that means yes.”

WangJi is not yet capable of forming words. An extremely advantageous hindrance, because he cannot simply accept an offer of marriage, regardless of his feelings.

The bright smile on Wei WuXian’s face begins to fade, and WangJi feels panic, that he cannot explain himself quickly and succinctly, the way the situation demands.

“Lan Zhan?”

“I cannot accept,” WangJi says.

Wei WuXian blinks at him, then shifts slightly, as if to pull away. WangJi refuses to release him, his arms wrapping more securely around the silk-clad waist, fingers clutching handfuls of delicate material.

Perhaps he does so with more strength and urgency than necessary, because Wei WuXian stumbles, catching himself against WangJi’s chest.

“I want to accept,” he clarifies, “but I cannot. I must speak to uncle first.”

“Oh,” Wei WuXian says, “That-- but he-- I have already spoken to your uncle.”

“You have spoken to many people,” WangJi points out, “Everyone whose opinion you care to hear. Other than myself.”

Wei WuXian huffs, his restless fingers now plucking at the thread of WangJi’s robes instead of his own. WangJi would grab his hands to prevent it, but this would mean releasing his hold, and he does not think he is capable of doing so, at least not yet.

“I should be allowed to do the same,” WangJi says, “You must give me time.”

Wei WuXian’s fingers have now found their way to the collar of WangJi’s robes, and the brush of them against the skin of his neck is extremely distracting. The logical part of his brain insists that this is an inappropriate way to have a serious conversation. A marriage, especially one that would make him the Emperor Consort to the Divine Ruler of the Shan Empire is perhaps the most serious conversation that can possibly be conceived.

But Wei WuXian’s hair smells like pears, sweet and heavy, and he keeps biting his already reddened lip. The other part of WangJi’s brain, the one that does not care for logic or propriety, insists that he should stop speaking and kiss him again, regardless of the seriousness of the conversation.

Lan Zhan, I am in love with you.

His arms tighten of their own volition, and Wei WuXian huffs out a laugh. It is a small laugh however, and there is and nervous edge to it, carrying over into his voice.

“How much time? Because-- what if-- what if you think about it, and then-- decide that you do not want to marry me?”

“Then, I suppose you will have to marry Nie HuaiSang,” WangJi deadpans.

Wei WuXian splutters for a few moments, the expression on his face rapidly shifting from shock to displeasure to pure exasperation. Considering how many times Wei WuXian has managed to exasperate him in turn, WangJi does not feel bad.

“Do not joke,” Wei WuXian says, “I am serious. Your uncle had given permission, but he does not like me, and he will tell you all the reasons why marrying me is a terrible--“

“Wei Ying,” WangJi says, effectively cutting off the flow of words, “I want to marry you. I will not change my mind. But you must give me time.”

He is utterly unprepared for Wei WuXian’s bright smile, the warm glow of delight that washes over his face, the tiny crinkles in the corners of his eyes. He is even less prepared to be kissed again, but he is more than willing, Wei WuXian’s mouth eagerly searching for his own.  

They should have spent the past five days kissing. Any moment that WangJi had not been kissing Wei WuXian now feels an unacceptable waste of time, one he has every intention to remedy. Although Wei WuXian seems as invested in this plan as he is, he cannot seem to help smiling into the kiss, his lips often darting to press to WangJi’s cheek, his chin, the side of his nose. It is sweet and silly, his restless excitement, and WangJi is now certain that Wei WuXian had been right.

He will be more than capable of making WangJi happy.

[edgeofmyniall]

ten: take me there

storypage | playlist | taglist | thoughts

“Tell me 'bout your mama, your daddy, your hometown, show me around. I wanna see it all, don't leave anything out.I wanna know everything about you then and I wanna go down every road you've been, where your hopes and dreams and wishes live, where you keep the rest of your life hid .I wanna know the girl behind that pretty stare. Take me there...”

“Sit on my face.”

“Do what?” Ginger’s voice rang shocked and hushed. She would be mortified if her parents overheard her.

“You heard me.”

Ginger’s heart raced. She felt like a teenager again fumbling through her words with the boy she liked. Her face turned beet red and her mouth was dry. She, for once, had no words. She wished for this moment for weeks and now the first time she is able, she’s starting to chicken out. At twenty-six, she was acting like a sixteen year old with a boy sneaking into her room.

“My parents will hear me,” she whispers her excuse. She could feel her hips being magnetically pulled to Niall’s mouth. She wanted him so bad.

“Not if you keep quiet,” Niall laid down on the bed with his head resting on the pillow Ginger hadn’t slept on in two years. It smelled faintly of Ginger’s perfume, and as Niall made himself comfortable, Ginger stood in the middle of her room biting her nails.

“What if we get caught?” Ginger asks. Her dress sways from her anxious movements. Niall lifts his head for a mere moment.

“Ginger, you’re an adult. Grow up and let me eat you out!”

Nervous, Ginger strides over to her bed. She knows the bed squeaks when a person rolls over or moves too much. She uses the dark headboard to her advantage, her grip tight on the wood as she straddles her hips over Niall’s chest. Her heart is racing and she knows that her agonizing wait will be over soon. She’ll ride his face until her body passes out from exhaustion and the thought thrilled her.

She holds her wait as she hovers over Niall. His black eyes grow as he looks at the naked and exposed vagina of Ginger. “Yer not wearin’ any panties,” he growls, his dick hardening.

Ginger giggles as she girlishly bites her lip from excitement. She doesn’t know when the right time to roll her hips on Niall’s mouth will be. Are they going to talk or get straight into business?

“You have the perfect pussy,” Niall reaches over Ginger’s thigh and his thumb slowly circles her clit- the sensation almost taking her over. She arches her back and her breathing is eradicated. “The perfect legs, tits…” Niall breathes as he imagines taking Ginger’s big breasts inside his mouth. The way her nipples feel against his tongue. “Perfect voice to scream my name…” He licks his lips as Ginger begins to unconsciously rock her hips.

“Niall,” Ginger breathes- her eyes open from where they had closed on their own. Niall’s words had lulled her into a passion coma. His face was beautiful. Every single feature of his was her favorite. And she wanted more than anything to see her cum all over his face.

“C’mere…”

She rolled her hips over his mouth, his tongue lapping her entrance. She forced her fist to her mouth to contribute as a filter from her moans. She found her rhythm as she rocked her hips letting Niall’s nose hit against her swollen clit. Niall’s lips linger on the fleshy pick skin as he delves his tongue inside of her tasting her wetness. She was so wet for him. And he wanted to taste her forever.

Ginger swallowed a scream as NIall’s nose rubs against her clit as his tongue dove deeper inside her. Her legs began to shake as a fire burned inside of the bottom of her torso. Her muscles tighten in her body as she rolls her hips vigorously against Niall’s mouth. His hands dig into the sides of Ginger’s hips as he rubs his nose along her clit for longer. His tongue flicks against the pink walls, his tongue feeling the groovy roof of her womanhood.

Ginger feels her body about to expire, but rolls her hips harder, pushing herself farther down on him. She wants Niall’s tongue deep inside her. Her knuckles bleed white as her grip on her wooden headboard becomes harder. She knows the build up is becoming too much for her and she feels herself about to squirt.

Hearing Niall whine as her moaning continued was what pushed Ginger over the ledge. Her undoing flowed into Niall’s mouth and over his chin and cheeks. She screamed into her hand as her vision blurred and her body convulsed her thrusting into sparatic rolls. The crashing waves of her orgasm stifled the room as Niall grunted inside of her.

She lets her grip of the headboard go and Ginger falls against the bed. Her feet were still straddling Niall’s face as her legs laid across her chest. She tried to catch her breathing as her heart raced from pleasure, but she felt the bed bounce slightly underneath her heavy body.

She turned to find Niall tugging his dick in his hands. She had been in her own world of recovery hat she didn’t hear Niall’s pants unzip. His eyes were screwed shut as he tried to stifle his moans. Watching Niall get himself off made Ginger’s nipples ache. She wanted to taste him again. She wanted him inside of her still.

“Fuck,’’ Niall whispered as he grabbed the back of Ginger’s head and brought her mouth the tip of his cock. The warm salty cum spurted inside her mouth. The taste of Niall overcame her and she pulled her head against Niall’s grasp and swallowed his undoing. The two fell into silence as they tried to wind down from their sexual experiment. The only sound was the heavy breathing and the lone stomach growl that came from Ginger. The two fell into a fit of laughter before Ginger sat up on her elbows.

“Wanna grab some lunch?” Ginger quirked her brow up. She knew exactly where she was taking him.

“As long as I can have you for dessert…” Niall said, his voice hinting for another round.

Ginger had already opened her bedroom door, purse on her shoulder when she retorted in a sing-song voice: “Always.”

~~~~~~

Ginger was leading Niall down the sidewalk downtown. The shops were open and almost everyone they passed Ginger waved to. They were holding hands as she tugged Niall to the comic book shop that her middle school friend’s uncle had opened.

“You seriously know everyone here?” Niall stated as an observation more than a question. The sun was beating down on the two of them as Ginger licked her cookies-n-cream ice cream from the old time parlor they had just left.

“It’s just Brian. He used to drive my school bus,” Ginger smiled as the glass door dinged as she pushed it open with her now free hand from letting her grip from Niall go. The store was lined with shelves on the three walls. The glass windows that let people look in was covered with vintage posters of superheroes and villains. Niall thought he had stepped into hell when all of the shelves were crammed with toys, collectibles, and figures that were in such a disarray that his stomach knotted. Lining the walls and shelves were glass cases that were filled with memorabilia and toys lined the top of the glass. The back of the store was taken over by bags of dice and cards of games that Niall didn’t recognize. The glass case that was home for the register was the neatest spot in the store. The inner shelves were lined with first edition comics that were held in plastic protective sleeves.

Ginger licked her ice cream as she left Niall to his own demise. She thumbed through old comics that were alphabetized. Niall slowly walked around the glass counter to look at the shelves. There was just enough space in this small compacted store for one other person behind the counter. Everything seemed to tower over him. He didn’t understand Ginger’s desire for messy. He wanted things neat and in their place, but Ginger threw her stuff around and called it her “organized mess”.

The one small trinket that stood out to Niall was a Funko pop figure that the company had made into a key chain. It was something he thought Ginger would like and he found it quite funny. He took the key chain off the shelf and carried it around the store, hiding it from Ginger when she would glance at him. Her smile warmed him. He was a lucky guy, finding a woman that liked to be around him and loved him for his antics. He was lucky that even as a global superstar Ginger saw passed the bright lights and money of fame and saw the real Niall. There was never time that he had doubted the intentions of her. She was real in a world dying to fake it out. She was honest in a room full of liars and she was vulnerable in a room full of hardened hearts.

When Ginger turned to leave, Niall smiled as he pushed the glass door open, the small brown bag held in the same hand.

“Whatcha get?” Ginger bit into her waffle cone. The white and black ice cream was smeared on her nose. Niall reached out and wiped the sticky residue with his thumb and tasted the sweetness of her ice cream.

“Nothin’ really, just a souvenir,” Niall smiled as they went into the next shop.

It was a local boutique that had transformed from a printing shop. The brick wall was partially covered with painted stucco. The lilac walls were lined with pictures of various spots of Laurel Springs. The store was filled with a few people, none of which Ginger paid any attention to. She was more concerned with looking at the clothes and listening to the pop music playing. She was humming as Niall followed her around the women’s clothing. She swayed her head back and forth as the songs continued to play. Niall took notice of the few people staring at her…or him- he wasn’t too sure. He kept his head down and watched Ginger hold a yellow flowy shirt. She shrugged her shoulders and put it back on the metal rack. Niall felt out of place, like an ant under a microscope looking for his anthill, but it was worsened when his newest single played over the speakers.

He was afraid Ginger might make a big deal out of it like she does when they’re alone in the car or cooking, but she only smiled to herself as she looked up at him and wiggled her eyebrows.

Niall stood with Ginger’s melting ice cream cone as she tried on various shirts and pants. His favorite was a pair white washed ripped jeans that fit Ginger’s curves just so with the black bleached band tee. She looked beautiful and perfect and he wanted to take her in the middle of the boutique.

When Ginger paid, she threw her half eaten cone in the public trash. Outside the sun was shining and the wind was gently blowing. Ginger drive Niall around to her “famous spots”: where she and her friends hung out regularly, where she had her first kiss, where she started her period. Everything she said, every word she spoke Niall clung to. He was soaking Ginger in like he was a sponge. He wanted to know all of Ginger and she was showing every aspect of her life. Even the parts she didn’t want to show.

It was in a local restaurant where they stopped for a small snack, that a ghost from Ginger’s past appeared. Pushing a flowered stroller was a blonde bombshell that was followed by a small toolset boy and a built man. Ginger’s heart stopped. She felt her face go flush and her legs begin to shake. After all these years, he still was just as handsome as he was in high school.

The small boy tugged the man towards the blonde beauty and when the father looked up, he saw the woman who loved him when he least deserved it.

“Ginger?” the man asked as he stopped at the couple’s table. He balanced a diaper bag on his shoulder.

“Hi Danny,” Ginger smiled. A little too big for Niall’s comfort but he remained silent. There stood the asshole that crushed Ginger’s heart all those years ago. He balled his fist in his lap as his leg bounced.

Ginger stood and embraced Daniel in a hug. He still used the same cologne and it was intoxicating. Her arm rested on his firm bicep before letting go. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. When did you get into town?” Daniel blushed before looking over to his wife who was standing a few feet over from him looking annoyed.

“Just today. We went shopping,” Ginger gestures towards Niall with her hand before becoming embarrassed, “Oh this is Niall, my um….”

“Boyfriend,” Niall stood and shook Daniel’s extended hand firmly. He squeezed his hand enough to know that he was the alpha male. “I’m her boyfriend.” Niall draped his hand over the dip of Ginger’s back, pulling her closer to him.

“I’m Daniel. Ginger’s friend.”

“Yeah, that you were,” Niall remarked, his voice harsh. His brow was furrowed and the grip on Ginger became tighter.

“Um well I better go. Lila is giving me the look,” Daniel awkwardly laughs. He smiles at the two of them, his eyes lingering on Ginger. “Nice seeing you again.”

The couple sit back down at the table and as the server refills the drinks, Ginger’s phone dings.

~~~~~~

“So you’re tellin’ me that you had your first kiss under the bleachers?” Niall and Ginger were standing at the fence of the high school football stadium. It was getting dusk and the two were on the last leg of their journey before going home.

“Yeah well, I thought it was romantic at the time. He was a total killer with his braces,” Ginger laughed. Niall’s hand rested on her back as her phone went off once again.

“Someone’s popular,” Niall said, a bad feeling growing in his stomach.

“Yeah, it’s my friend Taylor… she wants to meet up tomorrow,” Ginger lied.

“Mm.”

~~~~~~

Dinner at the Blake house was everything Ginger described. They went around the table after blessing the food to say what they’re favorite part of their day was. It was Niall stepped inside of a fifties television show.

“Showing Niall around,” Ginger smiled as she took in a bite of her father’s homemade burger. She grabbed another fry off her plate and waved it around. “The comic bookstore looked a little empty.”

“And what about you dear?” Pennie asked. Her graying black hair was pulled into a low bun. Her face done small wrinkles and laughing lines. Niall pictured Ginger looking like this when she aged.

“Meeting you guys,” Niall smiled as Jack clapped his hand on Niall’s back. This was the family he never had, but the secrets he knew was what kept him far away. He couldn’t trust Jack after knowing he cheated on Pennie.

After dinner, Jack and Niall took Texas outside for an evening walk and so they could talk man to man. Ginger and Pennie stayed in the kitchen to wash the dishes.

Pennie hip bumped Ginger whose hands were submerged in soapy water. “He’s a catch, Ginger,” Pennie looked at her daughter and smiled. “Even if…”

“Mama, I- I don’t know what to say. I tried to stop it but…” Ginger trailed off, her voice cracking as tears bellowed up.

“I know, Stella told me. She always overshadowed you and you just let her. Dad and I wanted to help but we felt like this was something you needed to learn,” Pennie rested her head on Ginger’s shoulder. “As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters, baby girl.”

“Love you, mama.”

~~~~~

“So you dated Stella and now you’re dating my daughter?” Jack pulled out a pack of spitting tobacco as the two men walked down the dirt driveway to walk the family dog. Niall stuffed his hands in his front pockets, trying to concentrate on anything beside this conversation.

“Yeah seems so.” Niall said coldly. He had an issue with Jack simply for the fact that he repeatedly hurt Pennie, a woman he barely knew.

“Were you and Stella together when you and Ginger got together or was it…”

“Sir, no disrespect, but you should be the last one worried about how me and Ginger got together,” Niall huffed. His chest was hot as he thought of Ginger’s phone digging over and over again.

“I see Ginger told you about my past,” Jack breathed in deep, “you probably think I’m a piece of shit, don’t ya?”

“Yes,” Niall was honest with his answer. “If you didn’t want Pennie, why not call off the marriage? Why do that to her and Ginger? Stella?” It was a long minute before Jack answered.

“You see son, sometimes your heart dictates what you want. I wanted Pennie and the other girl. There’s no questioning it. I loved both of them. At the same time, but what I thought I wanted wasn’t what I needed. What I needed was a good ass kicking,” Jack smiles before he continues. “You still love Stella?”

“I care about her, yeah.”

“And you love Ginger?”

“With everything. I actually see myself settling down with her,” he spoke the words he had been feeling for all those quiet months. “She’s my best friend.”

“Ginger is your Pennie. You realize what you needed before things got too messy,” Jack swung his arm over Niall’s broad shoulders. “You make her happy.”

“Yeah…” Niall isn’t too sure about the latter anymore.

~~~~~

Ginger was in the shower when her phone dinged again. Niall was laying in her bed when his curiosity got the best of him. He knows looking leads to heart break but he had to know. He picked up the phone, letting the screen light up and his heart ached as he placed it back on the nightstand. He knew this was too good to be true.

Ginger walked in towel drying her hair. She sat on the bed and leaned to Niall, her lips gently scraping against his beard. “How about that dessert?”

Niall did something he promised himself he would never do. He lied to Ginger.

“Not in the mood,” his voice harsh as he rolled over. The lights cut off and he heard Ginger tapping the screen of her phone.

~~~~~~~~~~~

@oyesmendes​ @klairelavarias​ @dontgiveupthedayjob​ @hannahollan1181 @kare38 @verorax​ @stayclose-holdsteady​ @halfpinthoran​ @angrynarry​

[tiliamericana]

Muay Thai: 1.10

“Does it taste okay?” asked Agatha, looking up at Nairi across the table. Her eyes looked different without the glasses, a little tireder, less focused.

“It’s really good,” said Nairi, swallowing a mouthful of her pasta. “I don’t really know what I’m doing in the kitchen, so any meal I don’t have to figure out myself is a good one, you know?”

“Well, thank you for the ringing praise,” said Agatha drily.

“I—sorry,” said Nairi, “it is good, I do mean it.”

Agatha’s mouth twitched up with a small smile. “I know. I was only teasing.”

“Oh, well, sorry for being stupid then,” said Nairi, smiling back at her.

Agatha laughed as she pushed herself up from the table, collecting their bowls. “You’re not stupid, Nairi.”

“Thanks,” said Nairi, shifting so that Agatha could move past her to get into the kitchen. Her apartment was cramped; a single bedroom tacked on to one living space, and her round kitchen table was crammed into the corner. Nairi’s legs were a little long for it. She hesitated, watching Agatha cross to the kitchen. “Do you want a hand with the dishes?”

Agatha smiled at her, running the sink. “No, I’ve got it, I’m fussy about how I wash them. I appreciate the company, though.”

Nairi nodded, getting out of the slightly too-low seat to join her by the sink, leaning awkwardly against the countertop and crossing her arms as the smell of dishwash detergent started to tickle her nose. Nairi watched her scrub the bowls and felt a slight tinge of self-judgement: she’d run her dishwasher to clean three mugs earlier in the week. “So, um, did you get much done today?” she asked instead of thinking too hard about it.

“Hardly anything,” said Agatha, rolling her eyes. “I was in two classes today. I hate dealing with freshmen so much—they’re only barelyenrolled by their own inclination.”

“You don’t like teaching much, do you?” said Nairi, fiddling with the cuff of her sleeve where it was tucked under her elbow.

“Not at all,” said Agatha, wrinkling her nose. “Especially now—I’m trying to finish prepping this article for peer review and journal submission and it’s absolutely nerve wracking. It’s only my second time trying to get published and the first paper went through two rounds of rejections before I got anywhere. How was your day? No classes for you, right?”

“No, closed on Tuesdays and Sundays,” said Nairi with a nod. “Weekends tend to be free for more people though, so if business picks up, I might change it.”

“You had a nice sleep in and a lazy veg day, then?” said Agatha, smiling as she rinsed a cup and set it on the rack.

Nairi shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. I took some lunch over to Linden’s studio and we chatted.”

“Really?” said Agatha, and she paused. “Oh. That’s odd, Linden doesn’t really like taking people over there.”

“Yeah,” said Nairi slowly, trying to figure out the weird note in Agatha’s voice. “I think she wanted to talk about a painting she’s making me, she keeps telling me my living room is too boring.”

Agatha nodded, draining the sink. “That makes sense,” she said, reaching for a kitchen towel. “She’s very firm about art and atmosphere, your bare walls must offend her on principle.”

“I think so, yeah,” said Nairi, trying to keep her tone light. “She keeps telling me I’m going to go insane if all I have to look at is plaster and brick.”

Agatha laughed, stepping away from the sink. “She’s a bitch like that. Do you want to stay tonight? I don’t have to be on campus ‘til noon tomorrow, so I can promise not to rush you out in the morning.”

Oh, this was going to be a thing, wasn’t it. Nairi hesitated. “I’d like to,” she started, trying to pick out her words with care, “but I told Linden I’d stay up so she could check in after her job tonight, and she thinks it’ll be about one.”

“That’s okay,” said Agatha, smiling at her as she rehung the kitchen towel and stepped into Nairi’s personal space. “I sleep very solidly, so if you need to call her you can just step out, or, you know, wake me up if you need to sound the alarms.”

“Oh,” said Nairi, and she smiled awkwardly back at Agatha. “Cool. I guess that works out then.”

Agatha kissed her cheek. “Great. Do you want to watch something? I’m afraid I’m terribly boring—I recorded a documentary yesterday, it’s about giant squid.”

She was smiling as she said it though, and it wasn’t like Nairi found anything interesting when she turned her TV on. She’d gotten a DVD player with it, but she didn’t own any movies. She’d thought about it, but nothing really looked… interesting.

Agatha had a small shelf of DVDs next to her entertainment unit. She could always ask about it later.

“It sounds good,” she said, turning and following Agatha to the couch. “I’m afraid I’m terribly boring, I don’t know anything about giant squids.”

Agatha laughed as Nairi sat down, shifting closer to be next to her, leaning in against Nairi’s side. Nairi thought about it for a second, then wrapped her arm around Agatha’s shoulders. This seemed to be the right thing to do, Agatha kissing her cheek with a warm smile before turning her attention to the remote as she set the recorded program to play.

Nairi tried to pay attention to the show. The voice was soothing and passionate about the topic, well-informed as they tried to educate her on the probable facts about what was apparently a very controversial fish. Cephalopod? Apparently squid weren’t fish.

…Apparently squid weren’t the same as octopuses either.

Agatha’s hand was wrapped loosely around Nairi’s, her fingers a little too warm. Nairi thought about brushing her off, but her hand was really just hanging there, Agatha was the one holding it. Fuck, this was so much more to think about than it should have been. Agatha hummed as the narrator with the smooth transatlantic accent posed a question and laced her fingers more tightly with Nairi’s. Too late, damnit, how was she bad at sitting on a couch?

She’d always been bad at people, though. Staying away had been fine, she’d always been good at keeping people at arm’s length, how the fuckwas she supposed to let someone be close. She wanted this, didn’t she? It felt nice to be touched by people, without judgement, or grabbing. It didn’t hurt, and she missed it when they didn’t. Linden liked touching and being touched, Agatha did too, and god, she just felt lonely when she thought about it—

This was fine. It was fine.

Agatha’s thumb was rubbing a small circle on the back of her hand. Nairi squeezed it gently and rubbed her own thumb in return, making Agatha sigh and tuck her head into the crook of Nairi’s neck. Nairi shifted to let herself sink a little into the corner of her couch, bringing her legs up so that she and Agatha were lying almost parallel. It was comfortable. Agatha’s couch was squashy and good, and a thousand times better than the piece of shit in Linden’s studio. Not as wide as Nairi’s, but she’d just bought the most expensive couch that would fit in her apartment.

Agatha’s pulse against her fingers ticked up a notch and she shifted to lie against Nairi fully. This was actually good; the warm, reassuring pressure through their clothes, the presence of another person against her, soft and quiet. Like this she could pretty much ignore the too hot, moist sweatiness of Agatha’s hand in hers and focus on how nice it was to exist in the same space as her without being on guard.

She had no idea what the show was talking about now, the smooth accent was talking about depth and pressure units, the screen almost black with the ocean. She couldn’t hold onto the words; they slipped through her ears like she was in a dream. It felt like every breath she took was out of sync, a second behind the motion of her chest, like every normal movement was happening on a delay. Like she was just… visiting her own body. It wasn’t bad,necessarily, just… Odd.

“—ri? Are you okay?”

Nairi willed her head to move towards Agatha. It took far too long, but she got there eventually. She licked her lips, suddenly feeling like her mouth was too dry. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said.

Did she always sound like that? All distant and weirdly pitched?

Agatha didn’t seem perturbed by it, so maybe she did. She leaned in towards Nairi, her lips moving, she was saying something else but Nairi couldn’t tell what it was. She saw Agatha’s lips connect with hers before she felt them. This was fine.

Totally fine. Nairi couldn’t really focus on what she was doing; it was like she was swimming while still wearing her clothes, or that one time she’d had to wade through chest high mud. One metaphorical foot in front of the other, it was just moving, just touching, that was all she had to do, then eventually they’d stop, and she was going to get clean, and have warm clothes, and there’d be a dark, safe place where she could sleep.

Agatha was nice, nicer than her, and she couldn’t even feel how sweaty her bare skin was anymore, it wasn’t as good as through the clothes, but it was probably nice, still fine—

Soft laughter reached her ears, and Nairi muzzily turned her head, finding Agatha’s face, her glasses-less eyes unfocused and smiling. “Tired, night owl?”

Not really. Nairi nodded anyway. “I have to—” she started to say, but her words were coming too slowly. When had the documentary stopped?

“Check in with Lindy, I know,” said Agatha, kissing Nairi’s bare shoulder. “We should get some sleep first, you can set an alarm?”

Nairi tried to imagine climbing into an actual bed with another human being at that moment and her brain flipped sideways. “It’s okay, I’m not tired,” she said, pulling herself to sit upright. She just needed to clear her head, that was all. She was fine.

“Alright,” said Agatha, sounding faintly amused. She reached down and picked up Nairi’s shirt from where it had dropped, handing it back, and Nairi pulled it over her head, trying not to look too relieved. It was just cheap cotton, but it was like wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, removing some of the tension in her head and her hands. Agatha kept talking without her. “Do you want some tea? I’ve got a box somewhere, I think.”

“Yeah,” said Nairi, seeing an opportunity to get some space and clinging to it. “Thanks. I’m just gonna, wash up.”

“Of course,” said Agatha, leaning in and kissing Nairi’s cheek before she stood. “There’s fresh wash cloths and proper soap under the sink.”

“Thanks,” said Nairi, doing her best to stand up and cross the room at a normal pace.

The cold water was a blessing on her hands. She left the door open a crack so that she could hear Agatha bustling about the kitchen, and she splashed some water at her eyes as she heard the tell-tale clank of a stove top kettle being filled and the gas clicking on. Her face seemed to come into focus as she stared at herself in the mirror over the sink, and she let the water run for a moment, watching a droplet slowly climb down the side of her nose and onto her cheek.

She shook her head and turned the hot tap, letting the water warm as she opened the cupboard under the sink. There was a small selection of bottles too tall for the drawers, each labelled something like “face”, “hand soap refill”, “moisturiser: body”, in identical looking printed stickers. There was a small stack of wash cloths next to them.

Nairi hesitated and grabbed a bottle of face wash and the first wash cloth from the pile. It was soft, and the soap was gentler than hers, smelling of rose and something herbal. She washed her face and hands slowly, rinsing off afterwards. The cuffs on her shirt sleeves were damp, faintly scented once she finished, and Nairi tossed the cloth into the hamper before putting the soap bottle away. She didn’t know exactly why you’d bother to use separate soaps for your face and hands, but it felt nice.

A safe topic of conversation, probably.

It took more effort than she’d care to admit to make herself open the door and go back to the main room. She couldn’t stay in the bathroom all night though, and the window was too small to climb out of.

When she came back to the kitchen Agatha had changed into sleepwear and a robe, looking very cosy, and she handed Nairi a mug of grassy chamomile tea. The ceramic was almost too hot to touch, setting Nairi’s raw fingertips on fire as she took it. She took a burning sip, giving Agatha an awkward smile in thanks.

“It’s a little late for me,” said Agatha apologetically. “But I sleep fairly hard, so I promise not to stab you when you come in.”

Nairi forced a laugh, not sure how else to respond. “Thanks. Sleep well?”

Agatha nodded, smiling warmly at her. “I will. Tell Linden to get home safe for me?”

“Sure,” said Nairi.

Agatha leaned up on tiptoe and kissed her lightly before Nairi could say or do anything else, then padded across to the bedroom with a small wave.

Nairi watched her shadow move around in the space between the door frame and the floor for several minutes before the light shut off, leaving her alone in the main room of the apartment. She glanced at the couch, and turned on the spot, taking her tea over to the table and sitting in the chair in the corner. There was a stack of books on the counter next to her and she grabbed one at random. It was a well-worn paperback branding itself a ‘classic’, and the decidedly vintage style of writing with the cramped print demanded a high level of focus that Nairi threw herself into, determined not to think of anything else.

Between it and the chamomile her nerves eventually soothed, and by the time her phone chirped with Linden’s text her mug was empty and she was no longer hyper-aware of her own heartbeat. The quiet hum of Agatha’s electronics and the difficulty of parsing what was happening on the page kept her present and relaxed.

She set down the paperback, reading Linden’s dry check in.

Lind A: out safe omw home Lind A: very boring dude no danger except for warts :p Lind A: gonna bleach my feet lol grabbed a taxi no mugging i promise xox

Nairi tapped out a quick response.

Glad I don’t have to kill anyone. Agatha says get home safe.

Lind A: safe and comfy :) Lind A: tell her she’s a bitch lol Lind A: get some SLEEP!!

Will do.

Nairi waited a few moments, but there was no further response. She set the phone down and looked over to the dark door of Agatha’s bedroom, legs tensing a little with the shift to move to stand. She chewed her lip, staring, then picked up the book and leaned back in her chair again.

[rosesisupposes]

108? -C.C.

Lover Prompts: #108 “call my bluff, call you “babe”, have my back, yeah, every day”

pairing: losleep

word count: 1,276

content tags: nonbinary Remy, fem Logan, sleep deprivation, higher education, projecting!

Remy was so fucking tired.

Not that that was surprising. They were trying to maintain a job while taking classes full time. And their program was a lift. They knew this when they accepted, knew what they were getting themselves into.

So really, they had no excuse.

They swallowed a yawn and picked up the next book in the trolley, checking the numbers with a glance and placing it back in the middle of the shelf. God, how were there so many left? It felt like they’d been trundling through nonfiction for forever, and yet the trolley felt basically full still.

This day was never going to be over.

“Rem, is that you?” a soft voice said from behind them. They turned to see a woman in a neat bun and dark-framed glasses poking her head around a shelf. 

“Logan, hey gurl!” they drawled, flipping their classmate a peace sign. 

Instead of being immediately charmed, she frowned, emerging fully around the corner. “Weren’t you here this morning before class, too? It’s nearly 9pm, how many hours have you been working?”

“Ya know, work-study, gotta get that hustle!”

Logan pursed her lips. Even for a masters student, she managed to look more like a professor than a pupil. But that was definitely something to do with her commitment to wearing a collared shirt and tie every day, deviating only to add a sweater in the winter. Or maybe it was the general aura of put-together-ness that so few grad students managed to achieve.

Or maybe it was that ability to look down her nose despite only being just over five feet and making her target feel absolutely scrutinized. Like Remy felt at this particular moment.

“We share a full class schedule, there is no way that you can fit in that, all our coursework, and more than a single shift at the library into a single day.”

“Maybe I’m just that amazing, sugar,” Remy replied with a wink. They hoped it would exasperate her enough that she’d leave and they could just finishing re-shelving. If they finished before 10, they might have time to finish that reading for tomorrow they’d only gotten through half of over a frantic lunch break.

Instead, Logan’s frown deepened. She crossed her arms as she asked, “And are you ‘amazing’ enough to do all that and get a proper night’s sleep?”

“Oh, of course!” They lied. They cupped their face in one hand, fluttering their lashes at the much shorter woman. “You think I get all this without beauty sleep?” Why wouldn’t she leave? Flirting was all fun and games but Remy really needed to finish this.

“I don’t believe you. Therefore, I will help you.” Logan walked over decisively and picked up a book from the trolley, studying the label and the shelf with the same intensity she brought to all her studies.

“Wait, what?”

“You are clearly stretching yourself too thin. Burning the candle at both ends just gets you a metaphorical pool of wax and singed fingers. I care about your wellbeing, so, I will assist you in finishing this task.”

Remy blinked at her. Then they looked down at the book they’d just picked up. The numbers looked fuzzy for a moment, then resolved back into clarity. Oh, yeah, that would be the 18 hours straight of wakefulness making itself known. Maybe bunhead had a point.

“Wait, you care about my wellbeing?”

Logan didn’t turn towards Remy. She just kept shelving, steadily working through the trolley. If it wasn’t for a slight dusting of red in her golden cheeks, Remy would have thought she didn’t hear them. 

“Also, I apologize,” she said, as if she’d responded. “Most of these books were checked out by me, so I am partly to blame for the amount of work you have to do.”

Remy nodded. That part made sense at least. They looked at the titles. “So, astronomy?”

“Yes.”

“…stars?”

“Among other things, yes.”

“Cool.”

“I find it to be quite fascinating, yes.”

“Or should I say, not cool, because burning gas!”

Logan paused in reshelving. “Was that a pun?” She glared down her very short nose. “You better not be a pun person.”

“Don’t you mean a punny person-”

“No, desist, cease-”

Remy grinned. “Fine, I’m done. Too easy.”

Logan sniffed with dignity and kept shelving. Remy resumed as well, and soon the section was complete. 

“I need to move this to history, next, but thanks for the help, Lo.”

Logan shrugged. “I can continue helping, I have no pressing deadlines.”

Remy stared. “You didn’t take out all the history, too, did you?”

“No, but I enjoy- uh, the activity. It’s satisfying, don’t you think? Putting everything back in its rightful place?”

Remy pushed the trolley as they responded, “Yeah, that’s true. Easier to see the physical progress with this than slogging through Levinson’s reading assignments, amiright?”

“Oh, absolutely, and we never even finish discussing the material!”

“Professors, my dude, they’re a trip.”

They resumed shelving in relative quiet, but comfortably so. It was much better than the oppressive silence that was a normal shift in the stacks. 

“How many hours a day are you working?” Logan asked after a time.

“Uh, as many as I can cram in, really. Loans are a bitch.”

“Yes, but you do need to maintain your health, too-”

“I’ll sleep when I’ve got my degree, I’ll be good.”

“Remy, that’s a terrible mindset,” she said sternly, putting a book down to glare. “You’ll burn out and then none of this will be worth it!���

Remy looked down. “Yeah, but I mean. Can’t really afford it otherwise.”

“Pardon my language, but bullshit,” Logan responded. “You’re incredibly clever, there are so many organizations that would give you a scholarship. There’s even a queer alumni group that specifically awards academic achievement in the queer student body, I’m sure you could get that and others.”

“Lo, hun, I’m not exactly Ms. Future Valedictorian like you, I don’t get that sort of thing.”

“Not when you don’t try!” Logan’s eyes were alight, like she got in the middle of in-class debates. “I can help you!”

“I really don’t get why you’re so concerned with how I’m surviving this existential prison we call grad school.”

Logan looked down. A hair fell loose of her bun, a single black straight across her cheek. “I’ve noticed you in class. You barely speak, but when you do it’s always so insightful, even if not phrased as artfully as one could imagine. I think you’re really quite clever.”

Remy felt themself blush. “Hardly, not compared to you. Everyone knows Logan Ngyuen is the one to watch. Hell, if I stay in this program too long you’ll probably be teaching me in five years.”

“I speak the language the professors want, it’s true. But you always bring in the human perspective that academia loses sight of. And I think that’s really important. I think you’re important, Remy. And your health is too.”

Remy wasn’t sure how to respond, so they just shelved another book, sliding it into place. “Thank you,” they said finally.

“Anytime,” Logan responded, her cheeks still a little pink. “Do you need to do anything else to wrap up your shift, or is this the last of it?” Remy looked down and saw that the trolley was finally empty. 

“Uh, just gotta put this at the end of the stacks and tell Ms. Falstaff on the way out.”

“May I accompany you? I’m heading back to the the dorms anyway.”

Remy smiled. “I’d like that. Thank you, babe.”

She turned a little more pink, but smiled all the same. “Any time, Rem.”

[nuricurry]

Saint Seiya | Hyoga/Ikki; “don’t paint me black when i used to be golden” PG-13

He’s got a flat in Omsk that uses when he needs to run away. It’s small, above a little corner shop, selling liquor and cigarettes and stale chips. It’s where he buys his rolling papers, because the babushka that owns it never asks about his age. She just likes when he’s around, because he looks like her son who went off to die in the war, and he lifts heavy boxes for her and sweeps the stairs without her asking. The room smelled old, but that was mostly because of the books that filled it, crammed into the huge bulky bookcases that Hyoga managed to squeeze in until the shelves sagged and it looked as if they might tip over. Most of the books he’d never read; they were in languages he didn’t speak, Croatian and German and Gaelic and Italian, books about science and the stars and plants and trees, books that talked about wars he had never heard of and places most of the world long-since forgot existed. They were books he had run his fingers over hundreds of times in his life, books that he could remember seeing as a child, all neatly ordered and carefully arranged. In his house, they were fit where they could, shoved on top of each other and stacked on tables and chairs, none of them given the proper place they should. He brought Shun there once, when they were caught between figuring themselves out and needing company. He remembered what he looked like in that small room with it’s peeling blue floral wallpaper and water stained ceiling. His eyes had traveled around, taking it all in-- Hyoga’s unmade bed, his chipped china, the dusty lace curtains that hung in the window-- and he had smiled at him and said it was lovely. What was funny was that he knew he meant it; where Hyoga saw chaos and mess, Shun saw a home, filled with things that Hyoga wanted to hold on to, things that clearly meant something, if he bought a whole apartment to put them in, rather than let them be thrown away. They shared the bed at night, him and Shun, because there was only one and they were beyond a point of awkwardness or shame in being close to one another. They would lie on the mattress on their sides, face to face, and Shun would listen to him talk. He would tell him about how his mother gave birth to him in Moscow, but she grew up here in Omsk and he had come here hoping to find some family of his, only to learn they had all moved away or died. The house she lived in was gone, turned into a shopping center, and the only record to be found was of her was her name at the local church and the day of her baptism. They talked about the books, all collected from the cabin he lived in with Camus out in the wilderness for those eight years. He couldn’t read them all, and honestly, many of them he didn’t want to, because he was never as analytical as Camus was. He didn’t really need to know how the world worked and why it did. He just lived in the moment, he just had to make it through each day, and that was enough for him. Yet, even knowing so many of them would never be opened again, he couldn’t bear to throw any of them away. Camus had touched them at some point, his eyes had scanned them over, which meant Hyoga couldn’t get rid of a single one of them, in memory of him. That was what the apartment really was for, when it came down to it. Storing his memories, trying to hold onto them and make them last by locking them away, as if that would keep them fresh, keep them safe. Shun, as he knew he would be, was sympathetic. He didn’t discourage his hoarding, didn’t criticize or encourage him to put those sorts of things aside. He just held his hand when Hyoga spoke about how he liked when the old lady downstairs called him ‘Pasha’ because it was like having a grandmother for the first time, he offered to get him a drink when Hyoga would get a headache from crying, he wouldn’t say anything about the creaking floorboards and lumpy mattress and leaking pipes and paper-thin walls of Hyoga’s glorified memory box. He just told him it felt like home, and offered to bring him new sheets and maybe a nice rug and a plant to liven up the space. Shun said those things because Hyoga didn’t tell him the whole truth. Shun didn’t know about the box under the bed, the box of Camus’ clothes that he kept tucked away under lock and key. He didn’t tell him about keeping his coat, his shirts, his gloves, because they were things that Camus had worn and touched, they still held traces of his distinctive scent. He didn’t tell him that the chipped dishes they used at dinner used to be his mother’s rescued from the remains of her sunken ship years ago and hoarded in his room where no one could find them. He didn’t mention the book that had dog-eared pages about the Kraken and sirens and Leviathan, creased and folded over by what must have been a young Isaak’s hand. He didn’t tell him about how he kept those things because he believed that they might have even traces of those he lost, a bit of their smell, a strand of their hair, even fingerprints would have been enough, because it was physical proof that they had been alive, that they existed and that once, Hyoga had been able to love someone without being afraid of that love destroying them. It wasn’t like that anymore. Hyoga had learned his lesson, had learned it in the hardest way possible. The only person who knew about Camus’ clothes and his mother’s china and Isaak’s book was Ikki. He had found the box by accident, one time when he came to the flat broken and bleeding, uncovering it when he was left alone after Hyoga went downstairs to ask for a needle and thread to sew up the wound. Ikki claimed he had been trying to find bandages when he pulled out the box. He asked about it, because it was strange for Hyoga to have a box of clothes he never wore that would never fit him, delicate painted tea cups, and a tattered book of fairytales hidden away in a box under his bed. He didn’t know why he told him-- it was not as if Ikki was ever sensitive about those things, not like Shun was-- but maybe it was because he wasn’t Shun or Seiya that he told him. Ikki was not someone who would look at him with pity when he talked about imagining that the books paper had absorbed some of Isaak’s spit from licking his fingers to turn the page, or wanting to find even traces of his mother’s fingerprints on the teapot, or about wearing Camus’ coat because it was the closest he would ever get to being held in his arms again, now that the man himself was gone. Ikki just took in all that information, he just listened, his face impassive, his eyes unreadable, before he closed the chest, and put it back under the bed. The next time Ikki was in the flat was when Hyoga brought him there because they needed to get away from everything and everyone, because he had finally talked about the fire that burned under his skin every time he was within any proximity to Ikki and Ikki echoed those words back. He hadn’t been thinking about the chest, the memories, the mementos; he was thinking about finally trying to work this fever out, but before he could, Ikki asked to see the box, and Hyoga dragged it out for him, though he didn’t understand why. Ikki pulled something out of the inner pocket of his jacket, and placed it in the box, right on top of Hyoga’s things. It was a handkerchief, and when he gently pulled up the corner of it, he saw a dried, pressed flower tucked inside. Ikki put his past inside of Hyoga’s memory box, and he let him, because he knew how much it hurt to carry around the love he knew killed someone. Maybe he thought it would bring them closer. Maybe he just wanted Ikki to find some illusion of comfort and peace like he had, forcing himself to think that compartmentalizing something meant it no longer affected him, when in fact the opposite was true. Maybe he just liked knowing that part of Ikki would always be within his reach, even if that was a part of him he had cut out, like one cuts out a tumor and puts it in a jar to sit on a shelf, a reminder of how terrible life can go, and how short it all is, subjected to the whims and forces of fate. Ikki comes to his flat in Omsk more than anyone else, and it becomes a place that Hyoga defines as ‘for them’. Parts of Ikki’s life navigate their way there, from socks and spare shoes to keys to his bike, and a case of his favorite beer always available in the fridge. They stay there, in the winter, and sometimes in the summer, when they’re allowed to get away and no one is asking anything of them, when they’ve paid their dues and given all there is to give. They eat overpriced takeout at the rickety table, they fuck on Hyoga’s lumpy bed, they sleep side by side together, and when he wakes up in the morning, sometimes Ikki’s still there. They brush their teeth in the same sink and Ikki’s leather jacket hangs on a hook next to the doorway, but lingers there more often than it’s missing, and it feels fragile, like a snowflake made from spun glass, but he holds onto it, as one of the few things he has that he desperately, so badly, doesn’t want to break. But wanting things doesn’t mean they happen. Trying to be better, trying to forget that he has destroyed every person he’s ever loved, does not stop it from happening again. 

They fight. They argue. Hyoga asks him for things that Ikki won’t give him-- things he says he can’t. Ikki snaps at him. He reaches his breaking point louder than Hyoga does. “Just sit here and rot in your fucking mausoleum, Hyoga,” he tells him before he leaves, and Hyoga knows he won’t come back. So he picks up his jacket, his fingers slipping easily over the familiar, creamy texture of the leather. He holds it, he smells it, he tries to find any traces of Ikki’s heat, of his hair or his skin, undeniable proof that this was his, that he lived and breathed in this jacket, and that he existed in a world that Hyoga lived in too, inside this flat. Then, he folds it, putting new creases in the jacket before he puts it in his box, tucking it under his bed with all the other things that belong to the people he destroyed simply by loving them. 

[oxxofanfiction]

Draco Malfoy FF  1-1

Female!Oc 

Monster From Hell - Draco x Female!OC

                                                  Chapter One

 The small London house was almost ordinary. . . well, that was until you looked into who lived there. The Goodwinds were far from ordinary, all were wizards and witches, their lineage spanned back to Helga Hufflepuff, one of the four founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 

 Michelle had waited for her letter to get accepted into the school, Her brother and father and mother all had gone to Hogwarts, but thoughts still roamed in the young girls mind What if I’m different? What if I’m not good enough? Does the school have enough students already? The thoughts always filled her mind every night before bed, But today July twenty-fourth made the whole house stir with excitement. Michelle had gotten her letter of acceptance.

 “Father, will we be able to go to Diagon alley soon?” Fraser, Michelle’s older brother asked. He was no stranger to the wizarding world and was already accepted into the school a year prior. He told Michelle tales of Hogwarts and the great hallways, professors everything. Michelle and Fraser had told each other everything since their mother’s untimely demise. They stood to their word of never keeping secrets, throughout all their childhood they had told each other everything and we’re notorious partners in crime. 

 “Yes, dear boy we shall go tomorrow seeing as it is” Their father checked his watch “My goodness time flies it is already ten. You kids must get to sleep! Big day tomorrow, no dilly-dallying!” He said as he sent the two kids upstairs. 

 As the two we’re getting ready for bed Frazer told Michelle about the professors, starting with Snape, “Snape. . . now, Snape, he is a tricky one. Even to me, he can be rude so if your not Slytherin do not, and I repeat do not disobey him, and make sure to pay attention in his class as he sometimes can be harsh.” He waited a minute then said “McGonagall can be rude, but most of the time she is a very nice woman and very understanding of any house. Sprout. . . she is a character, floppy had, a little woman about your size probably. She is lovely, she is Hufflepuff’s head I believe. Ravenclaw is…” He took another moment silently thinking “Flitwick… feisty little goblin man. Don’t get on his bad side, his detentions are okay not the worst but you do have to hear the god awful first years try to sing so that’s a downside” he chuckled at the memories of Hogwarts, “You’d know wouldn’t you, we got so many letters of your behavior, Frazer, father thought he would have to go to Hogwarts and apologize to Dumbledore himself!” Little Michelle said flailing her hands in the air angrily, though only as a joke. 

 “Well, I’m sorry. . . and luckily next year you won’t have to read them with father” he started going off to his own room, turning around and saying “Goodnight. . . Don’t let the Corn Faries bite” He ran off to his room at that comment, knowing that Michelle uses to be deadly scared of cornish fairies, she just shook her head and went to her room. 

 A single bed in the corner, her curtains we’re black and grey, her room painted just grey. . . she was never a fan of lot’s of color, it hurt her eyes when looking at vibrant colors. . . easter was never a favorite holiday of hers due to this fact. She quietly walked to her bed, pulling the warm duvet over her tiny body. Sleep soon found way to her as dreams of Hogwarts and Magical creatures danced around her mind.

. . .

“Up! Up! Up! Come on little jackrabbits! To showers! Busy Day come on children, Up! Up! Up!” Mr. Goodwinds voice boomed in the hallway. Groaning and reluctantly getting up Michelle made her way to her shower. Her morning grogginess disappeared quickly as she remembered in just a few days she would be at hogwarts and needed to get supplies. 

 Once downstairs and prettied up she grabbed her satchel, slinging it over her shoulder. Her hands trailing down her to her sweater, tugging at the end of it nervously. Her brother came down the stairs still groggy. 

“What’s your problem, your fiddling like a nervous coon” He inquired grabbing a bag of crisps from the stand.

“I just have never been…” She fumbled with the words for a second before restating “I’m just nervous, it shouldn’t matter but what if no one likes me?” her hands were now picking at her nails. A habit she has had since her youth.

“People will like you, Elley, Don’t worry if they don’t and if they have a problem, fuck them” 

“Langue, I did not raise someone from a barn son,” Their father said slightly slapping the back of Fraser’s head. Michelle quietly chuckled at this, her brother always found a way to get in trouble. Fraser looked up to her smirking and mimicking his father with silly and ugly facial expressions, pointing his finger at nothing, mimicking the yelling of his father. Luckily Mr.Goodwind had his back turned. As soon as their father turned back around they both stood to attention. “Are we ready?” Mr.Goodwind asked suspiciously. Both of the kids nodded vigorously standing up and taking their father’s hand. 

 Suddenly the three were in Diagon Alley, Michelle had only been once or twice before for her brothers’ necessities and “care packages” to hogwarts. 

 Michelle’s father quickly ushered her into a store, which if she remembered correctly was a wand store. Inside the small shop, the walls were covered in small boxes crammed into shelves. It was very unorganized but also had a sense of organization to it, like it was so stressful that it was calming. Michelle’s eyes danced around the room, looking at the hundreds, maybe even thousands of boxes that contained wands. She never really thought so many people could be a wizard or a witch. She had never even been in a room with more than one hundred witches, and seeing all the wands just proved that she knew very little on the world of witchcraft, though studying vigorously since a toddler.

 The old man which Michelle assumed was the owner of the store came up to her and her father introducing himself as, “Mr.Ollivander, and… oh my Mr.Goodwind, it was just last year your son came for a wand. My, my, my” He said clicking his tongue before his gaze went down to Michelle, “You must be Michelle, well how about we find you a wand young lady?” He said heading to a shelf. Michelle gulped nervously, her father placing a reassuring hand on her back as she gave a smile laced with worry.

 “How is this, a cedar wand. . . fit for a very loyal young wizard… or erm witch” He said handing the wand to her. He waved his hand a bit as to show her what to do, suddenly papers off his desk starting flying everywhere, “Definitely not that” he mumbled under his breath, Michelle mumbled sorry, but Mr.Ollivander said “It’s fine, a Potter just visited me just a few hours ago… absolute mess he left” he chuckled at the memory. Mr.Goodwind suddenly cleared his throat “Potter… as in James Potter’s son?” He asked. Ollivander nodded his focus mainly on finding a wand for the young witch. 

 “Ah here, an Acacia wand and has a phoenix feather core at 13 inches long, perfect for a great and powerful wiza- witch” Michelle carefully took the wand and swirled it around making all of the papers neatly restack onto the desk, Mr.Ollivander smiled lightly at her and nodded knowing that was the right wand for the young witch. 

  Michelle and her father continued to each store, getting ink, robes, a cauldron, her eight books, vials, a telescope, and so on. They passed by a shop filled with animals, which caught the young girl’s attention. Reluctantly her father allowed going in the store, knowing she would most likely be leaving with an animal now. She browsed the wide variety of animals, a certain cat seemed to call to her though, it was a sphynx it had darker area’s on its skin, and its eyes we’re a shocking color of yellow, one ear slightly nipped at the end. Mr.Goodwind looked to his daughter and back at the cat, his face basically read really this thing Michelle looked up to him smiling lovingly.

  “Can you shut that poor excuse for a cat up?” Fraser asked her as they arrived home. Michelle gasped pulling that cat out of its carrier and snuggling it, “She can hear you, you rude goblin” Michelle pet the cat, it purred in her arms. Chills ran down Frasers’ body at the sight “Just don’t let your freak cat touch me okay” Michelle started walking closer to him as he backed away. Then she started running the cat in hand. 

“Come on Fraser! Fluffy wants to meet you!” Michelle yelled out chasing her brother with her cat.

“Fluffy! Quite ironic wouldn’t you think” He yelled running up the stairs. His sister in close pursuit with the “demon cat” in hand. Fraser quickly made his way into his room, slamming the door shut and locking it. Michelle huffed outside his door, “How rude”

[ertrunkenerwassergeist]

Born Into the Wilds - Chapter 14

I did it! My brain is mush now, but I managed to finish it. XD My patience is zero.

Here’s the Link to AO3.

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In which invitations are issued, future plans for the war are made and a wild Gladio appears.

Featuring: family drama, Galahdian Clan politics, crafty old men, a bitter old woman, a training exercise, Iris being a precious bean, Gladio being Gladio, Nyx and Libertus being idiot dorks, Tredd the flame brain and many more

Warnings: mention of not-quite incest (the relation is 3rd cousins, so quite close)

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Hadnissa glossary:

oirkar = chief, clan head; lit.: leading person; a title makti-oir = war chief, commander-in-chief, warlord; lit.: leading/first hunter limeschti = traditional welcoming tea mahir = mother; woman who birthed me; affectionate form gisdrauht = Storyteller ahtri = spirit; umbrella term for everything from actual nature spirits to the presence of their ancestors wognesfahli = insult; lit.: cloud head; describes a thoughtless and/or reckless person

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Organizing a Gathering of the Clan Heads on top of everything else was a logistical nightmare. They were all a very prideful bunch, which meant that over the next few days, while Insomnia slowly imploded with speculations, Nyx visited every single oirkar in person to announce the Gathering. It wouldn't have been half as bad, if he hadn't had to suffer through half an hour of drinking tea with every single one. Even Murus Ostium, Libertus' uncle.

It got especially awkward when he had to go to Clarice Utris. The old woman was oirkar of her Clan and also a relatively close cousin to his mother and held a strong dislike for everything with the name Ulric. It was so bad she had nearly cut all Clan support Alyxa Utris was due, when she had married Ilias Ulric against the wishes of her Clan Head.

“To what do I owe you the pleasure of your visit, makti-oir?” Clarice Utris asked with a caustic voice.

She had been old when they had still been on Galahd, and now she was even older. Her wispy snow-white hair was done in her Clan's braids – two thick braids that started at the temples and held the rest in a bun at the back of her head; men tended to pull it into a tail – and her gaze was as sharp as ever. Nyx felt like a child again that tried not to cower in front of this intimidating woman with her tall stature, wide shoulders and muscular arms.

“Thank you for granting me entrance to your lands,” Nyx intoned, despite the fact that none of them currently had any lands to grant entrance to, and held out his left hand.

He knew Clarice Utris was left handed and hated it, when people greeted her with their right hand. It was ridiculous, but right now he needed to be on her good side. Well, as good as he was ever going to get. She eyed it like a gryffin would its prey, before she grabbed his wrist in a greeting of equals.

Her grip was strong and firm despite her old age. Normally a oirkar would have declared a successor by the time they hit 70 at the latest, but the Utris Clan was one of the few exceptions. Age didn't count so much as the ability to swing a hammer in the forge did. As long as Clarice Utris could do that she would remain oirkar, even at the age of 87.

“No harm shall come to you, makti-oir, while on the land of the Utris Clan. Be welcome and take rest at our hearth,” Clarice Utris said with no inflection whatsoever in her voice.

Nyx nodded and followed her inside the apartment. It was small and utilitarian, with the largest room barely fitting a small couch, an armchair, a coffee table and a huge shelf. The highlight was the actual fireplace, which was most likely why the old woman had chosen this place to live. One of the only frivolities – if one wanted to call it such – was the wooden fire bird statue by the entrance.

It must have once been a large town house, made out of brick with large windows and an unusually sweeping roof. Located at the upper edge of Little Galahd, it was close to the stairs that led up to the main highway of the city. Nowadays five apartments were crammed inside.

Clarice Utris offered him the armchair to sit and wait, and vanished into the kitchen to make some tea. Nyx sat down and plugged at the clothes he wore. Tunic and trousers were a hunter's grey at the base and melted into intricate patterns of different shades of browns and greens with splashes of other colours in between. Athina had practically shoved them into his arms after rooting through his closet and declaring most of its contents unfit for meeting the oirkari in his role of makti-oir.

A tray with two earthen cups and a round bodied tea pot was set down on the coffee table. Clarice Utris did not spare him even a glance as she prepared what Nyx now identified as limeschti – the official welcoming tea.

Despite having already greeted him, she set a cup down in front of him and took her own in her hands and spoke the traditional words: “Be welcome. We grant you safety in passage through our lands, and a place at our hearth for as long as you wish to stay. No harm shall come from me and mine. Fire and sun as my witness.”

“May your hearth burn strong and bright. No harm shall come from me to you or yours, during my journey through your lands. Fire and sun as my witness,” Nyx said, raised the cup until it was level with his eyes and then took a sip.

The tea had a very smoky quality to it.

“Now tell me, makti-oir,” Clarice Utris spoke after she set her cup down, “why do you come to me only after you have already visited the Lazarus?”

Nyx blinked and bit the inside of his cheek to not blurt out the first thing that came to mind. Instead, he took a calming breath to keep his words as polite as he could make them.

“The Lazarus are brokering an alliance with Clan Ulric. Allies take precedence over the other Clans, as a woman of your standing is, without a doubt, well aware.”

“Family takes precedence over allies.”

It took everything Nyx had not to bark a bitter laugh. Though judging from her expression, the smile he gave her was too sharp. Family. What a joke. An Utris had been his mother. An Utris had been his sister. But where had the rest of that Clan been after Ilias Ulric's death? His mother had barely managed to feed the three of them during the winter afterwards.

“For there to be familial ties, they must be acknowledged first, Oirkar Utris.”

The wrinkles on Clarice Utris' thin face grew even more pronounced. “You had a mother and a sister that were counted amongst this Clan.”

“Mahir and Selena were family before they were members of Clan Utris.”

The old woman's lips twitched as she glared at him. Nyx was very careful not to let any of his inner conflict show on his face. He would have loved to call the members of Clan Utris his family. A long time ago. Now he didn't quite know how to feel about them, other than the dull ache he always got when he saw Archyll and Ariadne. They had been his sister's and his favourite cousins.

“Alyxa would have been happy with the match we had for her,” Clarice Utris said, and it sounded like a challenge.

“Maybe she would have. Maybe not,” Nyx said, trying to be as diplomatic as possible about this. “But in the end she found her greatest happiness with Ilias Ulric.”

“You could have been one of ours,” she said then, something wistful in her eyes. “You could have been my grandchild. The name Ulric brings nothing but death to those who are close to them.”

This time Nyx felt his jaw drop open. “You don't get to do that,” he whispered. “You don't get to do that. You don't get to hide your bitterness behind what happened to my Clan. The simple matter of fact is that mahir did not want to marry her third cousin, no matter how much you wanted it to happen.”

Fuck.

Nyx closed his eyes for a second in the following silence. He should not have said that. No matter how true it was.

“Out,” Clarice Utris breathed.

Her face had gone bone white behind her natural tan. Her hands shook as they balled themselves into fists on her knees.

“Get out!”

Nyx heart thundered in his chest as he stood up. For a moment he looked down at the old woman seething with anger, then he spoke the words he had come for in the first place.

“Clarice, Oirkar of Clan Utris. You are hereby invited to the Gathering of Clans, which is to commence in three days time at midday in the storyteller's yard.”

He marched out of the apartment without another word, down the stairs and out onto the street. The air was humid and it smelled nauseatingly of exhaust fumes. Nonetheless Nyx took a deep, calming breath. This could have gone better. Why couldn't that old hag simply let it go? He glared up at the underside of the road above him, as if his gaze alone could make it catch fire.

No, he told himself firmly. No, don't go there. Down that road lie too many painful memories.

With an annoyed grunt, he turned around on his heels and walked into the mass of alleyways leading further into Little Galahd. This had not been the last home he would need to visit today.

Ethin Sarcina welcomed him into his home with a jovial laugh and a firm shake of his wrist. The man was a welcome distraction with his good mood and truly delicious chocolate covered blackberries. Nyx listened for nearly ten minutes to the glowing praise the older man had for his grandniece, before he managed to inform the man of the Gathering.

“Clan Sarcina is honoured to be so high in your regard,” Ethin said with a solemn gravitas that was only pronounced by his mane of shoulder length hair.

Nyx didn't even bother to ask how he knew.

“It was a wise decision to go to the Lazarus after talking to the Ostium,” the older man continued and subtly shifted his weight on the cushion.

The Sarcina came from the smallest island in the south. There, tables were low and people kneeled on cushions on the ground. Nyx had no ideas where that custom had come from, but he certainly was no fan of it. His toes were growing numb.

“If I may be so bold in asking: whom will you visit next?”

Nyx' gaze wandered over the tea set on the table between them. From the tea cups without handles made out of porcelain, to the flat teapot that looked like a disk in Nyx' eyes and the wide rimmed snack bowl, all set out on an intricate table cloth depicting colourful birds.

Should he answer? On one hand he didn't want to inflate Ethin's ego even further, on the other, he would know soon anyway.

“Khara and Najad,” he said at last. “Then the Arra, the Bellum, the Patientia and the Altius.”

Ethin hummed, gaze thoughtful. “A packed schedule you have there, Nyx Ulric.”

“Yes,” Nyx agreed and made a face.

Tomorrow would be even worse. He'd have to take a free day to manage them all, and if he was really unlucky, he would have to ask Libertus to tackle the lowest ranked Clans. Which wouldn't go over all that well.

A calculating gleam entered Ethin's eyes. “You went to the Lazarus after the Ostiums because you're brokering an alliance with them. But that can't be all. A personal favour? No matter. The Najad are high up the list because they were personal allies to your father. The Arra are the record keepers, they are always amongst the first ten Clans to be invited. But why the Patientia after the Bellum? The oldest gisdrauht is a Patientia, after all.”

It took Nyx a second to realize that this was a question he was supposed to answer. “Because it was the Bellum that got so many of us out of Galahd. They deserve to be honoured for that.”

“Very true. But following that logic you will deal the Pontos Clan a grave insult. Didn't they help as well?”

“The Pontos were amongst the first to flee, took nearly all of their ships, loaded them with what goods they could, and lost half of them to the waves anyway. Regard for them is low.”

In Nyx' opinion they had gotten what they deserved, though it pained him to think about how many Galahkari lives had been lost in their foolishness.

“And you would risk insult to everybody else should you place them too high,” Ethin nodded and took a sip of his tea.

Nyx tilted his head in acknowledgement and bore the older man's renewed gaze. Approval was clear in his green gaze, it made Nyx feel like he had just been tested without realizing it. It was disconcerting.

“Now, don't look at me like that, Nyx Ulric. You may have the standing, but I would never give my grandniece to an idiot.” Another lingering look. “I will personally see to an outfit for you to wear during the Gathering.”

Ethin held up his hand to pre-empt Nyx' attempted protest.

“Please, do not protest this. If we were on Galahd, this wouldn't nearly matter as much, but the sad reality is that we're not. The mainlanders will notice sooner or later and when they come to investigate, we need to make the most of it. For them, illusion is more important than fact, and it's high time we use that.”

This would be a lot easier a pill to swallow, if Nyx wasn't the figurehead in all of this. He had no particular desire to play into the Lucians grand notion that he was a king.

“Thank you for your help, Oirkar Sarcina,” he chose to say instead of all the other things tumbling through his head.

“Of course,” the older man acknowledged.

Thankfully the hard part of this conversation was over after that.

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After a light lunch and a change of clothes, Nyx went to work.

“I'm thinking of getting some units back into the old stealth tactics,” he said to Luche as they watched a mock battle between Troop Zwihr under Libertus, and Troop Kihna under Kepho No-Name.

Both troops consisted mainly of heavy hitter front line fighters. Libertus tended to go more in the direction of ambush tactics, while Kepho was like a hard hitting hammer. Blunt and blind force, but when directed very effective. Right now Libertus' people were winning.

Next to him, Luche frowned. “The tried and true method of hiding in trees and attack from above? That worked in the jungles, but won't do so on plains and within Niff bases.”

On Galahd the trees grew strong, sturdy and tall, able to carry people many metres above ground without trouble, but here on the mainland, trees were feeble things that looked more like tall bushes.

“That's not what I meant.” Nyx cast the blond a look. “What do you know about the Ostium way of fighting?”

Luche took a few seconds to contemplate his answer. Down in the field Libertus and his hunters had managed to encircle Troop Kihna, whose members started to drop out of the fight even faster now. It spurred them to fight with a grim determination.

“Very strong, but also very fast. They are most likely the only ones who can wrestle a gekkan bare handed and not only not die, but also win. They are cunning to a surprising degree.”

Nyx nodded. “Most people tend to only focus on their strength. But they forget the Ostiums also have a very close bond with snakes. Snakes are fast, snakes are cunning, and they also know how to hide, how to camouflage themselves and strike from an unexpected position.”

“You want to turn Zwihr into another stealth troop? That's not a good idea, Nyx.”

“That's not what I meant.” Nyx gave an exasperated sigh. “But it would be beneficial, if some of our units and troops weren't so static in their functions. Libertus makes a great front line fighter, he's strong and knows how to use the hunters under his command for maximum impact, but half the time I want to put him with Tahrolin Troop for an ambush. What if we make Zwihr Troop into both front line fighters and an ambush force?”

“It might work. Might, mind you. You'll need a diversion. A force that will manage to absorb first contact with minimal losses and stand it's ground.”

They both watched as down below Kepho managed to rally his remaining hunters into a circle formation facing outwards, using localized shield spells to defend themselves. No, that was not quite right. The hunters formed pairs, where one cast shields and the other attacked. Right at that moment it turned into a battle of attrition. If this were a real battle, losses would be heavy on both sides, though the defending force would make the enemy bleed for each step they took. Nyx whistled in appreciation. So Kepho was not just blunt force, he was also a tree with deep roots and a thick bark.

“I guess we found our diversion,” Luche stated.

A few minutes later the fight ended in a stalemate. Libertus stank of sweat and Lucian magic when he stepped up to them, after making sure his people were alright.

“Kepho's one tough son of a bitch. Hadn't expected that. Wait, since when are they here?”

“Who?”

Nyx turned around and saw Gladiolus Amicitia along with whom he assumed was his younger sister, lurking at the edge of the training compound.

“Don't turn around like an idiot, you dumbass,” Libertus hissed.

“Alright, alright. Still, what are the Lord Shield's kids doing here? Don't they have lessons or something?”

“His Grace must have told them the Gilgamesh story,” Luche concluded after a moment.

“'His Grace'?”

“Yes, Nyx, 'His Grace'. I learned some of the finer points of Lucian nobility – like you should, as well. The Lord Shield is a Duke, the Duke of Taelpar to be exact, and as such is addressed as His Grace. Lord Shield is the title used to show his capacity as the Shield of the King.”

“Great, that's just great,” Libertus grouched and rolled his eyes. “I'm not dealing with that. If those two want to talk, they better not expect me to come to them. So, any conclusions to that exercise?”

“Yes, actually. Luche and I were just talking about it. How do you feel about being the snake hiding in plain view?”

Libertus blinked, then grinned. “Ah, a snake amongst the leaves. You think it'll work?”

Nyx nodded. “If we take the initiative and attack instead of defend, yes. Everything east of Tealpar Crag is mostly clear of Niffs. If we find a way to stop their sovereignty over the airspace, it'll be firmly within the Crown's hand again. The enemy has currently only two bases on the western side of the Crag. The closest is Tollhends Stronghold. It guards the main crossing over the Crag. We have that, they can't just move their ground troops further inland.”

“Hmm. A surprise attack from within?”

“Basically yes. That's the general idea for now. Can you do it?”

Libertus scratched his stubble in thought. “With a whole lot of training, maybe. I'd need to talk to Draskelio, Ares and Nube about it.”

Draskelio Furia, Ares Bellum and Nube Dala were the lead hunters of the units under Libertus' command. All three of them were good hunters with Draskelio being the oldest in his mid forties and Ares the youngest at 33. Nyx didn't know them very well, but he was confident they would be able to pull it off.

“What do you think, Luche?” he asked.

“Ares will me on board without much prompting. Put a strategy in front of him and he can come up with the tactics to make it happen. And the bloodier a nose the Niffs get, the better. Draskelio is very forward, and he very much prefers to hit the enemy straight in the face, so to speak. But if you convince him to do it, he will keep to the plan. Nube I don't know very well either, but from what I have seen and heard, she fights smart instead of running straight ahead.”

While Luche talked, Libertus' eyes had flittered multiple times over Nyx' shoulder where the Amicitia siblings were lurking. Nyx concentrated and heard quiet shuffling over the sounds down in the training field, where Arl Unit was setting up a perimeter now that he fight was over. The next exercise would be a capture the flag kind of deal.

Libertus' face morphed through several expressions before it settled on annoyed. Nyx shared a look with Luche, who returned his gaze, eyebrows raised.

“Alright,” Nyx said. “Libertus, after the Gathering you'll start the preparations. Do we have a plan or something for the Stronghold? One of the demolition units could rig something up for training, if we do.”

“I will look into it,” Luche nodded.

“What? Uh... yes, okay,” Libertus said. Then, he switched into Lucian. “Damn it, kids. If you want something come here and say it!”

There was a light scuffle behind his back, at which point Nyx decided to turn around. The moment his eyes landed on the Amicitia siblings, they both froze. At once the boy pushed his younger sister behind him and gave a deep bow of respect. The girl brushed off her brother's hand to do the same.

“Your Majesty,” the boy said. “We are very sorry to disturb you.”

His younger sister nodded.

Nyx made a face at being called that, yet again. Behind him, Libertus gave a snort.

“Don't call me that.”

“But father said you're a king,” the girl chirped from half behind her brother.

How old was she? Ten?

“That's not a title we use,” he answered, patient.

The girl just didn't know any better.

“Well, what do you use then?” she wanted to know.

Stumped, Nyx looked at Luche, who was looking at the siblings in consideration. The blond man was definitely planning something. The question now was: How much of a pain in the ass would it be for Nyx?

“If you need to use a title for him,” Luche spoke up, “then call him makti-oir.”

Gladiolus tilted his head. “Makti-oir,” he repeated carefully.

All three Galahkari did their best not to wince at the butchered pronunciation. The 'r' was articulated to far back in the mouth, the 'a' was too long and the 't' sounded wrong.

“What's that mean?” the girl asked.

“First Hunter,” Libertus spoke up.

At once both Amicitias' eyes were on him. The boy's considering, searching, and the girl's just plain curious. What by Pitioss had the Lord Shield been telling them? Before one of the two could open their mouth to ask another question, Libertus asked one of his own.

“What are you two doing here? You should know how dangerous it is to walk into an active training field!”

“Gladio wanted to see you, so I decided to come along, so he wouldn't do something stupid,” the Amicitia girl said and walked around her brother, more confident now, though she still stayed close to him.

“Iris!” Gladio hissed.

So her name was Iris. Nyx should really make more of an effort to remember it. Giving a charming grin, Nyx crouched down so he was closer to an eye level with her.

“Thank you for making sure your brother wouldn't get into trouble,” he said and winked.

“You're welcome!” Isis grinned.

Nyx did his best not to laugh at the face her brother made. “Now, would you tell me why you and your brother came here?”

Iris looked up at her brother who gave her a nod. “Father told us about the Blademaster, and the story Lord Ostium told him and King Regis. Is he really our cousin? We never had much extended family before. Father also said that Lord Ostium is your Shield now, because he beat the Blademaster in a fight, and that Gladio had to learn how to be a proper Shield.”

“You better ask him that yourself, Iris. It's very impolite to talk about people like they aren't there, when they're standing right next to you,” Nyx said and stood up.

The siblings looked expectantly at Libertus, though Gladiolus looked decidedly more embarrassed than Iris. He was not exactly a boy anymore. His features retained no baby fat, which made him look older than he was, though Nyx guessed him to be in his late teens. He was taller than all of them, and had a solid musculature that faintly reminded him of an Ostium, though that might just be him seeing things.

Libertus looked between the two siblings, clearly considering things, before he sighed in defeat. He had never been able to say no to kids, and had often looked after his younger relatives. Still did, when time permitted it, and to Nyx, it looked like the Amicitia siblings had just been added to the list, no matter how much his hunting-brother may grouch and complain about it.

“Okay, first of all don't call me Lord Ostium. Neither of you. I ain't no lord. I just make sure that guy-” he jammed his thumb in Nyx' direction “- doesn't kill himself with one of his stupid ideas.”

Nyx made a scandalized sound, which caused Iris to giggle. Gladio frowned, thoughtful.

“But you beat the Blademaster and proved yourself worthy of being a Royal Shield. You deserve being called a lord.”

No one who didn't know him well would notice, but by this point Libertus started to struggle to keep his temper in check.

“For you Lucians, that may be so. But to us Galahkari, it was justice served. We don't give people titles like lord, for doing something we deem important.”

It was Iris, with all the wisdom a child possessed, who asked the most important question: “What do we call you then?”

“... Libertus. Just call me Libertus.”

“Nice to meet you, Libertus! I'm Iris and this is my brother Gladiolus.”

Libertus gave a solemn nod as a greeting. Nyx had to stifle a grin at the scene. Iris' face gained an expression that was probably supposed to be business like, but could only be called cute.

“Are you going to do it?” she asked.

“Do what?”

“Teach my brother.”

Gladio hissed something at Iris while the Galahkari present shared glances. Libertus looked pleadingly at Nyx, who looked at Luche, who looked at them both in exasperation. They were saved from having to answer by a small explosion going off on the training field.

At once, Nyx whirled around, lightning crackling along his arms and hands, and hissed like a startled cat, ready to pounce at the source of danger. Only there was no danger. Down below, Tredd gave off a slew of creative curses, before he called up to their group.

“We're alright, in case you wanted to know!”

“Tredd!” hissed Nyx. “You fucking idiot!”

From the corner of his eye he could see the Amicitia siblings startle. Gladio had pushed Iris back behind him and gone into a ready position, a summoned sword in hand. Libertus had positioned himself at Nyx' shoulder, ready to fight, while Luche was ready to take the rear.

Now, Luche actually rolled his eyes and muttered something about idiot distant relatives, while Libertus spat his own curses back at Tredd, before making sure the siblings were alright.

“Fuck you, too!” Tredd yelled back, much to the scandalized looks of Gladio and Iris, who may not have understood the words but certainly their intent.

With a quiet growl Nyx jumped down – to the loud protest of his hunting-brother – and warped with the clap of a lightning bolt. This was still strange, warping without using much, if any, Lucian magic. Though his control of it was still pretty much hit and miss, so he overreached himself, stumbled, and tumbled to the ground.

Above him, Tredd laughed.

To save some of his dignity, Nyx could only do one thing: He kicked Tredd's legs away from under him. With a thud and a curse, he landed in the dirt next to Nyx.

“Very mature of you,” the redhead grumbled.

“Right back at you,” Nyx shot back, voice still a deep rumble.

“Whatever got your whiskers in a twist,” he heard Tredd mumble, but chose to ignore it.

This time.

They stood up and dusted themselves off as best as they could. Both of them were dressed in a strange mix of their Kinglsglaive training uniform and their traditional hunter's garb.

“What exactly were you doing?” Nyx asked.

Instead of answering, Tredd waved him over to where the rest of Arl Unit was standing. Two of them were putting out the burning dirt, while another tried to scrub off the soot from her face, and the rest were discussing amongst themselves what might have gone wrong.

On the scorched ground, still half visible, were lines made out of crumbled coal. They had been part of a circle along with a few sigils and runes. Nyx raised an eyebrow.

“A daemon trap? You tried to make a daemon trap with a fire element? No wonder it exploded.”

“Yes well, if it works with water as a base, I don't see why it shouldn't work with fire.”

“Maybe because fire is fickle with too much of a temperament?” Damn, that had sounded condescending, hadn't it?

Tredd sneered. “You got a better idea? We're nowhere near the ocean, and using earth as a base is a really bad idea anywhere close to Duscae.”

Nyx scrunched his face in thought. “Lightning?”

The redhead opened his mouth to argue, blinked, and closed it again, a thoughtful look on his face. The fingers of his right hand trailed over his chin.

“Damn,” he whispered. “That might actually work.”

Without another word he turned around and started barking orders. The members of Arl Unit scrambled to obey them. With a good-natured huff, Nyx turned away to leave the nut jobs to their work. Tredd knew all about weapons, true, but he was also an artisan, and one of their duties had always been the construction of new wards and other things.

That's what the Arl and Sevah Units were at their core: Trap and ward specialists respectively. Most of their members belonged to the Furia, Lazarus and Sarcina Clans as a result.

He warped back up to Libertus and Luche in two quick bursts of Lucian magic. This time he stuck the landing perfectly. The Amicitia siblings watched him with large eyes. Nyx ignored them for the moment. Maybe they would go away? Unlikely, but a man could hope.

“So what did Tredd do?” Libertus asked in Lucian.

Nyx raised an eyebrow but responded in kind. “A fire based daemon trap.”

It was amusing to see how Luche's face grew slack and his eyes became unfocused as soon as the words registered. Meanwhile Libertus did a passable impression of a fish on land.

“He did what?” Luche demanded after he composed himself.

“You heard me.”

“That idiotic ahtrii damned wognesfahli...” The rest grew intelligible as Luche turned around and marched off. The last thing Nyx could hear was something along the lines of “That fire brained dumbass could have blown us all to Pitioss and back!”

Nyx looked at Libertus, who looked back. His lips twitched and the next moment both of them were howling with laughter.

“Did you see his face!”

“He was gaping! Gaping!”

They looked at each other and burst out laughing again. Nyx' cheeks started to hurt and tears gathered in his eyes. It took a while to calm down enough to notice that the two Amicitia were still there. Both were staring at the grown men like they had lost their heads. Nyx nearly laughed again.

“Shouldn't you two be at school or something? Does your father know you're here?” Libertus demanded.

Gladiolus' face gained a defiant expression. Oh dear.

“Lo- Libertus, I would be honoured to spar with you in the future.”

His hunting-brother tried to stare the boy down, but he held his gaze, head held up and spine ramrod straight. It came very close to a parade rest. After a while Libertus sighed and threw his hands up.

“You know what? Fine. You've got guts, kid. But we're going to talk about this. This evening, 19:00 straight at the Rose's Thorn. You're late even one minute and this whole deal is off.”

“Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!”

The kid saluted. Actually saluted. Nyx bit the inside of his cheek and did his best to make a serious face.

“Thank you,” Iris parroted.

They both bowed to Nyx with a mangled “Makti-oir” and finally left the Glaive's training ground. Nyx and Libertus stared after them.

“Libs.”

“Hmm?”

“I'm proud of you.”

“Fuck you, too. What the fuck did I just do?”

“Seems like you got yourself a little apprentice.”

“I don't even have a job that warrants an apprentice. And he's way too old anyway!”

“Now you're just being mean.”

Nyx grinned and took a step away from Libertus. His hunting-brother sputtered, then threw himself at his best friend with an echoing war cry.

[mysteriousdane]

Did anyone say tiny and cozy homes? Yes? AWESOME! I think it’s pretty clear that the new SP Tiny Living is all about building (and furnishing) - so ya girl right here actually made it out of CAS to get a good feel for what this pack really has to offer... and now I’m here to share my opinion on this pack’s build and buy with all of you!  °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

Big thanks to SimGuruFrost and the EA Game Changers program for providing me with early access to this new stuff pack - as always I’ve been super grateful and excited to check out this new content! ♡

Here’s everything Tiny Living has to offer build/buy wise (excluding the one actual build item which is the door seen on the very first picture of this post)! 35 new items including beds, tables/desks, TVs, some decoration and more!

I am no builder but I made an attempt... I looooove small builds in Sims 4 - so with just 32 tiles of actual living area, I built myself a tier 1 micro home! Fenced in areas that are fully closed count as living area, too, so that’s why I had to be a little more creative with the area behind the house. Who needs a gate anyway

Bigger living areas create different tiers of houses that are equally as cute (64 tiles for tier 2 tiny house or 100 tiles for tier 3 small house) - but the bigger the house, the fewer the lot perks!

So let’s talk about that murphy bed... Probably the main ‘selling point’ of this pack (other than the general idea of living in small homes of course) is the bed - everyone saw it in the trailer, and I feel like we’ve all been excited to add this to Sims 4. 

The bed comes in 12 wooden swatches and it consists of the main component, the bed itself, with or without a loveseat. The second component is the bookcase (with slots for decoration) that will automatically stick to and merge with the bed on both sides!

So the main feature of this bed is that you can bring it up and down to create more space (and a seating area if you use the loveseat version) - this is so so perfect for the small builds, and I loved being able to cram as much stuff as possible in this small area by using the feature. Just keep in mind that your sims will still need room to get into the bed! 

Moving on to some other features... With the patch that came out before the release of Tiny Living, we got the ability to place TVs on many more surfaces and this works so well with small areas like the one I put in my build!

Anyway, the rest of the living room furniture (not all pictured) have similar swatches to the bed and everything else in the pack - and it all just looks so nice and cozy! I love the look of the new small tables, the dressers, and the armchair (and matching loveseat) - I can definitely see myself using these in so many different types of builds, too!

With the new desk, you can make an adorable tiny study area! I didn’t realise this but I have a weakness for desks like the one from Tiny Living that have a slightly raised part where decorations can go perfectly - and it fits in in so many spots, too! Looks even better if you use some of the new decorative items, too, hehe.

What about the kitchen? While it would’ve been nice to get new counters that maybe took up less space, a smaller stove/oven or even a small fridge like the one from Discover University, I didn’t actually expect any of these things. That being said, we did get a small (but tall) dining table (not pictured) with some matching chairs that also go well with island counters PLUS some ridiculously cute decorative pieces for the kitchen - so I’m still pretty satisfied!

So the bathroom... With a stuff pack, we rarely (or never??) get tons of items for every single category in a house and that’s totally understandable. The bathroom stuff in this pack consists of a new sink, a toilet, a mirror and a decorative shelf. Pretty decent! I would’ve preferred a smaller shower (similar to the one from Discover University) over another toilet, though, but maybe that’s just me. 

Soooo... here’s my final thoughts: I really genuinely like this pack! The general idea of small homes caught my interest immediately because furnishing big builds in this game will forever be a struggle (in my opinion)... so the idea behind this pack is right in my alley! 

Keeping in mind that it is only a stuff pack, I didn’t expect a huge amount of nifty features like the murphy bed - but it would’ve been nice to have more furniture that really would work well in a small home (smaller shower or maybe even a sink + shower combo, a smaller fridge, pull-out tables or things like table top stoves), but I understand that stuff packs are kind of limited and they don’t usually add that many features with just one stuff pack. If you have Discover University specifically, though, you can easily combine some of the dorm friendly furniture with this pack’s items - and that’s pretty neat! 

My build consists of nothing but items from the base game and Tiny Living, and it is available RIGHT NOW on the gallery (ID: SimoneAW or #MysteriousDane)! 

[momtemplative]

Four Seeds.

Very little experiential information comes in from the outside world these days. The ports, energetic and literal, are closed for the foreseeable future. The ships have been docked.

So, every piece and part and bit of this house—as well as the people in it—suddenly feel like they are all posing for extreme close-ups. Corners that had been ignored for time immemorial are now simply untenable—how did I not notice that mess before? The top shelves that were wooly with dust are now slick and glossy. Random shoe boxes that had morphed into being part of the shelves (we began to stack things on top of them) have been cracked open like time capsules—so that’s where all the finger puppets went! Jesse even cleaned out his desk when he brought it upstairs and found the plastic polka-dot costume-jewelry rings we used to get married at the courthouse, two weeks before our actual wedding twelve years ago!  

There are many treasures yet to uncover.

We also observe the bliss that comes from the alignment of two glorious things: decent weather and a spacious backyard. When we bought this house twelve years ago, we had no idea that our backyard would become such a cherished commodity. That, come Spring of 2020, we’d be rejoicing every single day we stepped foot on our chipped-up deck and muddy yard.

The yard is the scenic backdrop to a heavy percentage of our day. A few days ago, the dog gallivanted passed with a dead fetus of a mole rat dangling from his lips, and then dropped the rubbery carcass at his feet. I screeched and Ruthy heard that screech and ran my way yelling “What is it, Mama?!!” And, well, it felt as if all of humanity was contained in that tiny moment.

A while back, we planted five bean seeds that we got as a gift from my sister-in-law’s baby shower. We—Ruth and I—placed them deeply in rich soil in a medium-sized terra cotta pot. During the few days, Ruth treated the pot like a tiny sandbox for her toy figurines. I reminded her that dirt-play was for outside and told her we need to protect the baby seeds if we want them to grow. So, she flooded them with water then covered the soil with an entire bag of cotton balls to “Keep them warm.” 

I reluctantly removed the terra cotta pot from the front window where it received the best lighting and radiating warmth, but where it was equally under threat of Ruth’s tiny fingers and endless curiosity. I placed the pot temporarily on the porch, safely out of reach but still in the (albeit chillier) sun. Then I promptly forgot to bring it inside that night when the temperatures plummeted. (When I awoke and peered out the front door to see the little pot out there, soil nearly frozen, my heart sank. I figured those guys were goners.)

The pot wound up on an out-of-reach shelf, then the kitchen table, then the back deck. It went through multiple re-locations, temperatures and lighting variations, all to keep it safe from little fingers that love nothing more than the feel of dirt.

It felt like one of those social experiments that was forced on the youth of yesteryear in school, where they had to pretend to be a parent to an egg, a watermelon, a doll, something non-sentient. There I was, taking painstaking care of my terra-cotta pot filled with, what appeared to be, just soil.

If I’m being honest, I was sure we had abused those five little bean seeds well beyond growth. I tried to imagine their little cosmos beneath the soil. Was it a forgiving place? Ahhh well, I thought. Damn shame.

Until, a few more days later, Opal called from the kitchen— “MOM!!! LOOK!”

I found her peering at my terra cotta pot with a wide grin. Behold, there were four tiny sprouts that had harnessed all their imperial magic, their godly juices, their tiny but most potent life forces to come forth into the world.

Once they broke through to the open air, nothing could hold them back. They grew so quickly you could almost see it with bare eyes. We paid close attention and reported on them numerous times a day. “How are the spouts?” “Honey can you check on the sprouts?” “Is the soil dry?”

I returned them to the front window because I couldn’t resist the accommodations, even if I did notice occasional dirty piles around the edges of the pot alongside a Daniel Tiger Figurine waist-deep in the dirt. But at that point, the sprouts seems less vulnerable, more teenage-like. If they were out in the garden, they'd have to hold their own with any-which backyard creature. I figured now they could handle—benefit from, even—some light adversity.

They got so tall I had to tie them with pipe-cleaners to a stick, for lack of a trellis. I’d have waited a bit longer to plant them if I had expected them to thrive so suddenly and so wildly. We needed just a little more time before they could go into the outside vegetable bed. But they were clearly outgrowing their home in the pot, like the hermit crab in the book Ruth had been reading in preschool before the shut-down.

Then one morning, Ruth emerged from behind her play tent wearing a backpack for pretend school, slouching from its visible weight on her shoulders.

“Whew, this backpack is HEA-VY!” she said, fishing for the acknowledgement of her strength from either Jesse or I or both who were in the vicinity.

She trailed off in another direction, audibly talking to herself about the plants.

Jesse and I exchanged a look of precise understanding and quick-stepped in her direction.

Indeed, Ruth had crammed the entire potted plant into her small backpack.

I gasped when I saw the sprouts, a good 10 inches tall now, shoved to fit in there, like unruly hairs manhandled into a fitted cap. To her credit, she must’ve put the pot into her backpack with some level of care, because there was very little dirt in there. She even packed the little tray underneath! She also left the zipper open to give them air. But the sprouts— those fragile strands that had already weathered so much—were discolored from their bends and from where the leaves had snapped or bent straight in half.

Oh dear. I said.

“I just wanted to bring them to show and tell,” Ruth said. Eyes waiting and hungry, like gaping vessels for us to tell her how she should feel right now. 

Jesse said. “Oh honey, it was an accident. You didn’t know.” Sweet girl was as proud of those small-scale bits enchantment as I was. Proud enough to take them to pretend show and tell. 

I extracted the terra cotta pot from the backpack with nimble surgeon fingers. I placed it on the kitchen table, the way a paramedic would lift a body that had sustained an uncertain amount of injuries onto a gurney. I tried to smooth out the sprouts as if I were running my fingers through hair, avoiding the larger knots. I released a bloated, audible exhale.

And that is where the four wounded sprouts currently reside—in their own little personal ICU—until we receive further information. Time will tell.

March 30, 2020

[selkiestory]

It was surprisingly easy to fall asleep that night even if a stranger was sharing his bed. He made sure he planted himself firmly on the opposite side of the bed. Too bad Marcas didn’t know that Aed rolled about in his dreams, but when the redhead woke in the middle of the night - limbs sprawled and foot pressed firmly against the the other teen’s back - his guest remained sound asleep.

‘“I’m used to sleeping in the waves”’ Marcas would probably say.’

Aed pulled the covers over himself again and squinted at the bright light. He forgot to move his curtains back and the full moon shone over the ocean, but also right into his eyes.

It was quiet.

One last calm night before summer turned to fall. The redhead grunted and rolled away from the window to face the door. It was too comfortable to get up and draw the blind.

As he waited for sleep to return he studied the other’s resting profile. His companion’s long hair gave the image of spilled ink on his ridiculously pale skin. The teen admitted that the other was handsome, but it was strange for someone as fit as Marcas to be so fair. Only hard work outside could result in muscles like those. It shouldn’t have surprised him that Marcas refused to put his pyjamas on after coming back from the shower. It had taken much persistence to convince the teen to at least wear some boxers before they went to bed. The only piece of clothing Marcas seemed comfortable with was his cloak, which he now had tightly in his grip as if it were a safety blanket.

The thought made Aed snicker. He quickly grabbed a pillow and pressed it over his head to muffle the noise. What a strange day today was.

Well he might as well get more rest. The teen leaned into the darkness of the pillow and, after what seemed like hours, finally went back to sleep.

*

The next morning the teen woke to an empty bed. For a split second he considered all of yesterday to be a dream before seeing his clean room and Marcas’ discarded set of clothes. Shivering in the morning air  Aed quickly dressed - the usual collared shirt and sweater - and went downstairs.

“After all, Aed doesn’t let just anyone into his room.”

“I really appreciate this. I won’t let you down.”

‘Well that’s that.’ His parents had come to their decision rather quickly. It was embarrassing that his Mam had to mention him, though. He waited another moment before slipping into the dining room and making a beeline for the kitchen.

“There’s some left overs on the stove,” Flann patted the space next to her, “after you heat them up please come here. I have something to discuss with you.”

“I know already. Marcas is staying,” Aed flicked the stove on and waited for the oatmeal to warm, “but are you ok with me not working with Dad?”

“You know we support you no matter what.” The teen ducked his head to hide a blush.

Marcas entered the kitchen and began washing his bowl. He offered Aed a smile and waited for him before they both returned to the living room.

“I have to go to work, now, so please clean up after yourselves. Aed, I’m waiting for a form to go though. You should be starting by Friday.”

Flann leaned over and Aed gave her a one-armed hug.

“Have a good one, Mam.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling a bit better. Remember to put some water on before I come home!”

The room went quiet as Aed started on his oatmeal. It was a bit awkward with Marcas just sitting there, but at least someone was home.

“So what túath are you?”

He paused from his oatmeal and gave the teen a blank stare.

Marcas elaborated upon noticing his confusion, “Ui Fidgente? Ciarraige Luachra? Corca Duibhne?”

Oh. The old tribes.

“Don’t know. Grandparents probably told me, but forgot.”

“Hm.” Marcas seemed to be scrutinizing him.

“What? That was ages ago,” he took a gulp of milk in his defense, “...what’s your tribe?”

“Murtagh. What do humans do then now days?”

“We have regular families and surnames. For example I'm Aed Carrick.”

“So you grew apart?”

“...” He had never thought of it in that way before, “Not really...I mean, annoying as she is, I don't hate Ena. My Grandma and Grandpa come often. And everyone in the village more or less gets along.”

The younger looked perplexed, then shrugged as if he just accepted that things were different.

“I guess I’ll be meeting them soon enough.”

Deciding to cut the chatter Aed cleared his throat.

“About last night...”

To his surprise, Marcas broke eye contact, the teen suddenly finding Aed’s oatmeal very interesting. Aed narrowed his eyes.

“What did you do?” If he stole anything...

“It got really hot. But if you saw, then you saw that I kept my cloak on.”

“Oh uhh” That was not what he expected...must have happened after he fell asleep, “I wasn’t talking about that.”

“Oh.” Marcas ran a hand through his hair, “then...what?”

“My research. If you’re going to help me, you’re going to need to learn how to read... and write since you probably can’t do that either.”

He saw the younger take on a guarded look, but pressed on.

“You’ll need to jot down figures for me and note descriptions of coastlines at the very least.”

After realizing that he wasn’t being made fun of, Marcas’ expression relaxed into a lazy smile.

“Alright. When do we start?”

“Now is better than never,” he crammed the rest of the oatmeal down, his mind buzzing with plans. A big swallow and he gagged. Shit. Wrong pipe.

His glass was pressed to his lips and he took it gratefully. The younger patted his back as he choked his way through the last of his meal, too busy getting air into his lungs than to shrink away from the teen’s touch.

“Thanks…” the redhead finally managed after a few minutes.

“Anything for a friend,” Marcas replied, hand comfortably resting at the base of Aed’s lower back.

Aed quickly pushed back his chair and tidied the kitchen instructing the other to meet him in his room.

The teen was lounging on his bed when he returned.

“It’s so weird, but I can definitely get used to beds.” Marcas bounced a bit, “there were some of them on Blasket, but they were all banged up. ‘Too busy partying anyway to use em, even if they were fixed. I like em though. They’re softer than rocks.”

“What do you mean? Blasket was abandoned a while ago” Aed shuffled through his books trying to find a simple enough one begin with. Creatures of the West Atlantic, 1000 Leagues Under the Sea, Earth Encyclopedia... He didn’t have any children’s books come to think of it.

“Which is why it’s the perfect spot for us. The times when we turn human could be dangerous if actual humans see us.”

Aed threw him a look that the redhead made sure clearly conveyed his exasperation.

It was hard to ignore ridiculous claims if they were shoved into his face at every opportunity. Yesterday, only his mentally exhausted state caused him to consider the teen’s story to be real.

“You really are stubborn,” Aed bristled at Marcas’ amused tone, “I thought you would be more accepting to the otherworld considering you were able to call me.”

The teen gave up on his shelf and considered his options. He could go to the library tomorrow and borrow some kids books (and get strange looks), or he could try and nick one from the school library when he went to check on his experiment he left behind. But if he got caught that would mean more questions...

He heard Ena’s voice from downstairs and smacked his head. Of course. Ena had most of his hand-me-downs.  

Aed left the bedroom and opened the door to his parent’s room where his sister slept. He picked a thick alphabet book (the chew marks from raising two children had considerably worn down the pages) and tossed it to Marcas when he returned.

“Come to the desk. You aren’t going to learn if you lie around all day.”

“Alright, Mr. Carrick,” the younger plopped down on the single chair and smoothed out the creases in his jeans. He picked up the book and smirked at the bite marks.

“I didn’t know you guys had a dog.”

“It’s Ena’s,” Aed noted with appreciation that the book was held correctly this time. The kid seemed to be a fast learner.

Having no other option he leant against the corner of his desk and pointed at the first brightly colored letter “So there’s the alphabet, and each letter…”

---

When he woke there was an empty spot next to him. Again. For someone so chatty, Marcas could be quite stealthy when he wanted to.

A bit of cautious hope rose with him as he got out of bed and dressed. Today would be the day they both started their jobs and resumed his research. Although they hadn’t made enough progress yesterday to actually begin reading instructions, Aed had given him a test: report back on the patterns of deep sea currents during the week. Those were easy enough to remember to ask, that making tallies would suffice. Although not exactly what he wanted to look for, he had data to compare to that at least...it still felt foolish that he was going along with the teen, but it was the only way today was going to feel productive.

“Me first!”

Before he could open the bathroom door, a flash of orange ran inside.

Sometimes it’d be nice to be an only child…

While his sister hogged the bathroom he stole a few more books from her room. His Mam was already downstairs. Dressed and ate breakfast by now, too. He understood. After all, she was the one who taught them to always arrive to things 15 minutes beforehand.

*

“Look at you, so handsome on your first day. Your tie is so straight!”

“Yeah-yes. I still remember how to do it from graduation.” Aed muttered as he bent down so Flann could push back his hair. Every last bit of red in its place.

“I know you’ll be fine at any job. Just remember to smile.”

And they were in the open air. The sky was grey, and the sea smelled extremely fishy. Aed couldn’t see anyone out among the waves…

They dropped Ena off at school then walked back through town past the grocer's and the post office, past the three pubs and the bed-and-breakfast to the little white bank on the end of mainstreet. When they entered he recognized a couple of his former classmates chatting in the back, and quickly sought out work. He already started later than them, so he had to play catch up. There was no time to socialize.

After being introduced to the bank manager, Osirin, he was sent to work. Sorting mail was plain enough, but book keeping was especially dull when it wasn’t for research. At least then he could visualize the meaning behind the numbers.

When 5 o’clock came, the teen had to contain himself from sprinting out the doors.

As soon as they stepped inside, Ena charged. Flann chuckled as Aed blocked Ena, the youngest Carrick switching to cling to her Mother instead. His sister stuck out a small hand and waved a bright pink paper at Aed.

“We had free time so I drew!“

He was able to discern that the crude image depicted two people fishing...but the fat grey ovals in the water were too big to be fish.

“It’s Dad, Marcas, and Marcas’ family,” the girl proudly explained.

Aed rolled his eyes.

*

The three had finished their dinner and Aed helped Ena with homework before retreating to his room. All of the books from yesterday’s ‘reading class’ were still stacked on his desk. He gave them a long look before busying himself with changing. Research would need to be done in order to teach efficiently on the days when Marcas returned. Luckily Cárnach was small, so boats came back almost every weekend. The easiest way would be to ask Ena. She was still in primary school, so she’d remember her curriculum.

He peeked into her room. Fast asleep.

Returning to his room he flipped through the books for a few minutes before pacing to the window. The sea was vast. A contradiction of pitch-black water and shimmering light from another clear night...but he still could not see any boats in the distance.

It could have been him out there in the dark sleeping above the fish. His father must have seen something in Marcas to take him abroad within a day of meeting him. But then again, he had spoken up for Marcas and his Dad had always respected his opinion.

He was glad. Glad how quickly his family had accepted the teen. It was almost too easy how Marcas settled in. If he really was a selkie, wouldn’t he want to go back to the sea as quickly as possible? In the stories they always left. But then again in stories they were always beautiful ladies. This was different. Marcas would return.

His gut feeling nagged at him. Did he just miss another opportunity? First uni now-no. Stop that.

The other’s story was unusual, but not enough for him to believe in selkies. And if Marcas wasn't a selkie he would have to return.

But it didn’t make sense for him to make up his story, did it? So far only he and his sister knew the teen’s ‘secret.’

He tried to sleep, but his tumultuous thoughts carried him off as slowly as a feather drowning in the open sea.

---

Come the end of the week the selkie had the biggest smile on his face as he stepped into the home of the Carricks. Neil followed, both chuckling as Ena initiated a tackling hug for each. Aed’s eyebrows shot up as the teen stepped away from ruffling Ena’s hair to next approach him. Before the teen could react Marcas leaned forward and they bumped noses.

“Hey, Aed!”

“W...what are you doing?” The redhead sputtered backing away.

Given the looks on Neil and Flann’s faces, the other flushed red as well, immediately realizing his error.

“Er...where I come from, we do that when we haven’t seen each other in a long time.” The teen offered. Aed saw both his parents questioning looks, so he took another big step back turning to address his father.

“Have a good catch?”

“The best in a while! Marcas here is a natural,” Neil nodded at the shorter teen, “quite a good listener as well.”

“It was good to be back at sea, and I’ve never gone fishing on this scale. Neil’s quite a poet. I never knew!”

“Come, let’s not stand here. You two must be starving. Dinner is ready by now,” Flann gently nudged the group into the dining room.

“What was the biggest fish today?” Ena stretched her arms wider than the plate in front of her, “This big? Did you get any pink ones?”

“No pink ones today,” Neil ruffled her hair, “I’m surprised how many we got considering all the seals being ‘round the boat.”

Marcas laughed lightly.

“It was the selkies!” Ena gasped, “Can I go next time? Please, Mam, Dad?”

“It’s too dangerous.” Neil gently chided.

“But it has been a while since we all had a day out,” Flann mused, “when it’s spring next year we should go. It would be lovely to be on the boat then.”

“That sounds great,” Neil shot Aed an amused look, “the last time we were at sea was when you were just about to start high school.”

Aed remembered that summer well. The one where he tried to wear the same shirt every day to determine which bacteria would grow. Highly experimental, but not directional. He cringed.

“It’ll be a few months, but it’s better to plan ahead,” Flann decided. And they dug in.

*

“I assume you’ll want to resume lessons in the morning?”

“I could do a little now,” the selkie gave a yawn and rolled off their bed to join Aed at the single desk. The teen sat up and straightened the small stack of books, ready to put to practice the lesson plan he had produced.

He had gotten through twenty minutes when he felt a nudge at his arm and of course Marcas had nodded off. A little miffed the teen lightly shook his ‘student’ then prodded the younger off to bed.

“Thanks,” Marcas muttered sleepily as he snuggled under the covers. The younger stared at him, seemingly expecting something, but Aed had no idea.

“What?” he finally said.

“...Strange human,” the selkie let out a snort of laughter and rolled to face away. Aed huffed.

“Rest well, because we’re staying in and studying all day tomorrow.” He slid onto his own side of the bed and waited for sleep to come.

---

Previous

Next

[sillybitchynerd]

The Pet Store Myth

A super annoying trend I tend to see is people lying about big chain pet stores and some of the things that go on in them. 

Now you can make any kind of argument you want about the places pet store get their animals from and the breeding conditions in those places. Granted that’s not a pet stores call and they need to find animals that do not cost them 500 bucks a pop as well as shipping, and are also able to supply them with healthy movable animals at a decent rate. For example the store I work in sells Bearded Dragons at least once a week, so getting a shipment of 6 babies still only last us about 5-6 weeks, a lot of smaller breeders want 200-400 per dragon not including shipping fee’s. At the price of 50 a dragon we can’t keep up. Go after the breeders, not the minimum wage workers over THOSE conditions.

Now I’m all for judging a store by the conditions of the animals, there are rules in place at my store that demand a level of cleanliness and even ‘display’ that can get management fired if they are not met. Every hour if you stand in a Petco long enough you will hear an animal sound go off over the loud speaker, this lets an manager know they need to do an hourly animal walk. This means misting any reptiles that need it, checking water and food dishes in all cages and scooping any dead feeder fish. In the morning all reps and small animals get greens, fruits and veggies and their water is swapped out. All animals are normally handled or checked over for any signs of illness or injury and everyone is fed. Night time is the same thing, dirty and empty bowls are swapped, everyone is checked and night lights go on.  

Small animal bedding is changed twice a week with all items and the tank itself scrubbed down, animals that need dust baths or baths in general get them. Reps are once a week with spot cleaning done in between and soaks are done during this time and normally snake feeds as well. Fish water is tested twice a week, and all filtration and carbon pillows are changed monthly or as needed depending if it’s salt or fresh water. There is at least one full time aquatics worker on staff who’s sole job it is to tend to all things fish, it’s that hefty and complex. 

A lot of people think that animals are just killed or shoved in a freezer if they are sick or hurt. Not at all, we could be ARRESTED for doing that in some states. At the first sign of illness or injury the animal is put into the wellness room in the back, if it’s something minor like a scrape or wet tail we keep them quarantined until they are better but anything at all that we are unsure about there is a vet visit set up in 24 hours. Snakes have feeding and weight charts to keep them on track and believe me when they say ANY ANIMAL. We have had feed mice go to the vet after injury in a tank fight. Fish are tricky, we can’t always safely take a fish to the vet and unless there is one willing to drive out we often take pictures and send them to the proper vet who will recommend treatment. Due to tank cycling issues we normally quarantine the tank on the wall and allow the fish to heal on the floor. So if you ever see things like ick which can come in shipments from the breeders please don’t flip a tit. 99% of the time they know and are currently treating the whole tank system just in case. 

There are check lists on check lists on check lists of when things get done and how. If an animal is beyond saving WE don’t make that call, a vet does. And WE don’t put them down, a vet does. And it’s often only in very extreme cases will we ever put a treatable animal down and that normally has to do with quality of life and expense. If an animal need $900 meds daily it’s not possible for us to keep up with that and if the animal can not be rescued out it’s up to the vet. If the animal ends up as special needs it’s adopted out to a knowledgeable family or rescue (we have had a few ferrets with diabetes) if an animal has been in our care for too long (fuckin iguanas...) we also lower their price until they are free, if they are still not picked up we add free supplies and if THAT doesn't work we are in touch with reptile rescues and sanctuary’s. Often times the animals that can not be homed are just taken in by staff members. 3 of my pets currently are returned / surrendered / adoptions. We also cycle animals to different stores. Perhaps someone in a different town is looking or able to take in an animal we have, they just don’t know about it so giving it to another store gives that animal a higher chance of adoption.

In the case of cage size all animal habitats are step up as TEMPORARY housing, we don’t expect most of our animals to be in these tanks for more than a month in the best case and as stated above if they do out grow their cages we adopt them out as quickly as possible OR if we need to we shelf pull tanks and supplies to set up enclosures in the back room or on the floor for them. If it looks like we have to many, chances are we do but it’s not the staffs fault. In my stores case someone dropped off 4 large adult GPs the day we got our shipment of babies in. In the morning we only had two, we ordered enough to fill the large end cap cage big enough to house 3 ferrets, one empty long tank big enough for 3-4 babies and one more to add to the tank with the last two babies. We know based on sales trend that our pigs tend to go in days if not by the end of the week..but having 4 large adult males show up out of the blue and us having to take them in for their own safety we ended up putting 2 in each long tank leaving only the last empty end cap tank for literally all our other babies. Which is okay, the pen is big and they live in large groups, the 4 females were pulled and put together in a 40g in the back so we were left with 10 males in the end cap. That’s too many, we know. They all have room to move around and stretch out, no one is cram packed in and they are so small they can fit in your palm no problem but it’s still to many. We are fully aware, we did not plan on this, we HAD the room until about an hour before the babies got there. 2 females in with the 2 we still have 3 boys in the long and the last few in the big tank. Perfect. 

“But why didn’t you just put the big ones in the back?!” Because they would never be seen or adopted out, they would sit back there alone for days until we had the tank space for them and adopting out grown adult pigs is hard enough without having to tell everyone we happen to have them. It worked, they went home in about a week and the babies are all nice and spread out....but boy for that week did literally everyone get yelled at.

In the most cynical way possible our top branch looks at animals like product. Just like frozen food it needs to be housed and handled carefully or it’s worthless. If your product is damaged (sick or hurt) it can’t be sold and if it looks like it’s kept in shitty conditions no one is going to buy it in case it’s been spoiled. If we don’t take care of the animals it cuts into their profit. No one is harming or hurting these animals out of hate. All of our animals are counted and accounted for INCLUDING FISH. If more than a normal natural amount of animals die we get a visit from a specialist team and people could lose their jobs. An a normal amount is often one or two hamsters a month IF that. They ask questions, they look into shit. They don’t mess around. We can’t throw Iguanas away in the trash, we would get a call next count asking were the hell over 1000 bucks in animals went over night and if it’s just over a month they will ask why our otherwise healthy animals are suddenly dying.

That being said if you do see something that is CLEARLY not okay say something. A tank filled with dead fish, a dead mouse or animal in a tank. When you handle and deal with animals things happen, we don’t know the health of every single feeder mouse. One that looks fine and acts fine could be riddled with cancer and die suddenly between walks. We could have gotten a 6 year old hamster from the breeder without knowing and it passes in it’s sleep. We might not notice a nipped fin on a Blood Parrot fish and a bird might have gotten a toe stuck in a toy. 

It can vary from store to store. I’ve been brought in to help understaffed and under trained stores get their shit together which is why talking to an employee and understanding what’s going on is important. If you see a hamster breathing a bit heavy say something, let us know. Chances are it just started. If you see poor conditions don’t write a bad review on yelp, CALL THE CORP LINE and they will send someone out. Call out bad stores but don’t shame the whole company because there are people who really care and really take amazing care of their animals. Our store has names for every single beta fish, we know all our animals down to their personalities in most cases and we are obsessive about their health and well being. Telling people on facebook to never trust a pet store EVER because you went to a shitty one spreads a fear and distrust when there shouldn’t be. Spread that about SPECIFIC stores. Not all of us. Shop around at your local store and get to know the employees. If you see the same faces every month or year and the animal care is always amazing spread the word and make sure people know they care. 

I’ve been screamed at by would be activists who saw a bad post on facebook about a petco once and made it their mission to come in a harass every petco they could find within diving distance. Don’t be that person, and don’t be the person that started it. 

[roonil-wazlib-at-221b]

The Dangers of Sarcasm: Part 2 (final)

The clock continues to blare, much to Sam’s intense annoyance, so eventually he just yanks the cord out of the wall when he discovers he can’t make sense of the many buttons on its surface.

His surroundings are both too simple and too complicated for Sam to make much sense of. The only decoration on the grey-colored walls is a canvas with the words ‘God bless kale— Samuel Winchester’ written in fancy cursive.

Sam frowns. “What?” That’s not something he would ever say, both because you and Dean would ridicule him for it endlessly, and also because he likes eating healthy, but it’s not that important to him. Also, who would ever have that quote on their wall? That’s ridiculous.

There’s nothing unusual about the room, save for the fact that Sam didn’t go to sleep here and he’s never seen it before in his life. You would absolutely hate the black bedsheets and pillowcases, insisting on at least a navy blue. There always had to be a little bit of color and music around you or you go crazy. It’s one of the things Sam loved about you.

Sam frowns. Why’s the thinking in the past tense? Just because he doesn’t know where you are doesn’t mean you’ve, like, died or anything. That would be ridiculous. Everyone knows you can’t die. You’re one of the best hunters ever, plus even imagining you dead is laughable. Nothing could keep you from standing back up, not even Death himself.

The bathroom is the same: only the essentials in the cabinets, the place as spotless as if nobody even lives in the place. The entire house, way too large for just Sam, is the same way. It may just be a regular house, but one person doesn’t need this whole space.

Sam laughs. “This is ridiculous,” he mutters. “I don’t live here. I don’t know what this is. I don’t know how I got here.” But still, he can’t help but feel that this is the place he lives now, and it’s much too large and quiet: the opposite of the Impala, which is always blaring rock and alive with your laughter, cramming the two large Winchesters and slighter Singer into their seats and with beer coolers on the floor.

The only possible explanation Sam has for waking up here is somehow getting super drunk and wandering into someone’s house, but they probably would have noticed and Sam didn’t even drink more than a beer last night before heading to Barnes and Noble with you. So that’s pretty much out of the question.

The fridge is what Sam wishes you and Dean would eat more: all healthy foods; stuff like kale (Sam thinks about the quote upstairs) and lettuce.

It’s when Sam opens his cupboard that stuff gets interesting.

There’s an entire shelf of salt. On each lid someone had drawn a devil’s trap.

On the shelf below the salt is another shelf stocked with only one product: spray paint.

“Definitely a hunter’s house,” Sam mutters. On a hunch, he lifts up the corner of a rug. In this cold, dark house, a rug seems out of place; a cold stone floor would be more fitting. Sam’s beginning to think this place is just an elaborate dungeon. It certainly feels as oppressive as one.

Just as he’d suspected, there’s a Devil’s trap painted onto the floor underneath it. Sam bets there’s one under every rug and bed in the house. It’s what he would do if he had a house.

Sam climbs the stairs back up to the bedroom. His phone is lying on the bedside stand, but it doesn’t have the occasional crack on its screen from getting thrown around by monsters and it’s not slightly bent at the bottom right corner. It’s pristine, just like the house.

He pulls open the one drawer, hoping for a clue as to who the house belongs to, but the contents inside only confuse him more: a CD and a single glossy photo Sam’s almost sure he doesn’t remember taking: you and him, so young it was obviously taken before he went to college, talking, sitting cross-legged and face to face in front of the Impala.

Sam and you talking isn’t exactly a monumental occurrence, so that scene could very well have happened, but Sam knows for a fact that no one in his family is particularly fond of taking photos. So who took this photo of you and Sam together?

Dean.

The thought comes to him completely unprompted. It definitely wasn’t Dean; that wasn’t something Dean would ever take a picture of. Dean prefers to take embarrassing photos of you and Sam for blackmail, not something that could even be considered sweet. It goes against his ‘tough guy’ persona.

Now that he’s thinking of his brother, Sam has a thought that he should’ve had the second he woke up but for some reason didn’t. He dials his brother’s number. Dean picks up on the second ring.

“Hello?”

Sam sags with relief at his brother’s voice. “Dean! Hey, Dean, where are you? Are you at the motel room?”

“Who is this?” his brother asks instead of answering.

Sam frowns. His brother has his number saved in his phone, all of them. “Dean, it’s me. Sam.”

Dean hangs up.

“What the hell?” Sam mutters, running a hand through his hair, and calls his brother again. Dean picks up on the first ring this time.

“I don’t know if you’re actually Sam or just a monster, but don’t call me. Call again and I’ll kill you.”

“Wait! Dean—”

He hangs up again.

“What the hell is going on?” Sam asks himself. Why would Dean be angry with him? He hadn’t done anything last night, had he?

Maybe he’d accidentally hurt Baby. That would definitely be something that Dean would try to kill him for.

Sam dials again.

Dean picks up with an exaggerated sigh and immediately starts talking. “Look, man, I don’t know if you can’t hear suddenly, but I don’t want to hear from you. Like, at all. So leave me the fuck alone.”

“Wait! Please don’t hang up,” Sam pleads, sensing that his brother’s thumb is hovering over the ‘End Call’ button. He knows Dean. “Dean, something happened and I woke up in this strange house and there’s a quote on the wall that says it’s by me, but I’ve never said ‘God bless kale’ in my life, so—”

“Sam, you say ‘God bless kale’ every day,” Dean interrupts. “I’m pretty sure the words are what you cry out during sex.”

That definitely sounds like Dean.

“Look, where are you?” Sam asks desperately. “I’m seriously freaking out, man. I don’t know what’s going on.”

Dean’s voice is hard when he speaks. “Are you with the FBI? You’re not tracking this call, are you? God damn it, Sam.”

“No!” Sam almost pulls his hair out. “I’m not with the FBI, I swear. Dean, we’re both on their Most Wanted lists.”

“ I am,” Dean corrects. “What is your deal?”

Sam frowns. “I don’t know.” His brother doesn’t sound like Dean; his voice is too unconcerned, too cool. Sam’s only ever heard him use that tone of voice with monsters that try pleading for their lives. He checks the date on his phone. It’s the correct day and year. “Yesterday I was hunting with you and Y/N and then I woke up here—”

“Shut up!” Dean barks. Sam flinches. “What, so this is just all coming from a dream? You’re such an ass, Sam. You made your choice and I made mine. I still can’t believe you sometimes.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Sam roars. “Something’s going on, Dean!”

Dean doesn’t say anything for a while, so long that Sam has to check that he hasn’t hung up again. Finally, he says, “Okay, then what’s your problem?” Even after all this time, Dean’s a sucker for his younger brother. Other hunters say he’s too nostalgic.

“Dean, yesterday we were in Long Pine, Nebraska, staying in the Long Pine Bunkhouse, hunting a rugaru, and I woke up today in this strange place.”

“How’d you know where I am and what monster it is?” Dean snaps.

“Because we were hunting it together yesterday!” Sam replies exasperatedly. Why is it taking his brother so long to understand this?

“Sam, you haven’t hunted with me since you went to college,” Dean replies.

“What?” Sam screws up his face with confusion. “Oh, come on, Dean, this isn’t some prank you and Y/N are pulling on me, is it?”

Dean laughs, but it’s a sound that isn’t happy. “Sam, trust me, Y/N doesn’t have anything to do with this. Whatever ‘this’ is.”

“Why not?”

“You killed her.”

Sam shows up at the Long Pine later that day, ignoring nonstop calls from someone named Nancy. Dean opens the door when he knocks, and Sam’s greeted by three things: holy water to the face, a silver knife, and his brother’s face.

Sam doesn’t remember him having so many scars or hair that short, but he takes the knife and draws a thin cut on his upper arm. Dean nods, finally satisfied, and lets him into the room.

“You do know that if you brought FBI and you’re faking this whole freakout, I’m going to kill you, right?”

Sam looks into his brother’s eyes and finally finds out what it feels like to be a monster the Winchesters are hunting. There’s no teasing in his brother’s eyes, no warmth, nothing. He really would kill Sam and the FBI squad that would show up if he was lying. “I’m not faking it.”

Dean nods and picks up a beer from the bedside stand. As Sam looks around more, he realizes his brother’s room looks like a trash pit. Surely his brother’s liver can’t be well off, considering how much beer he appears to drink. And that’s saying something, considering how much beer Sam is used to his brother drinking. “All right, spill.” Dean pulls out his trusty handgun and rests it on his knee, pointed at Sam.

“I honestly have no idea what happened,” Sam says honestly. “Yesterday we finished up that rugaru hunt and then we went to a bar. Y/N and I left early to go to Barnes and Noble and then we slept in the Impala because you were taking a girl to the motel room. Then I wake up in a pretentious home with the quote ‘God bless kale’ on the wall—I mean, what the hell?”

Dean pulls his phone out of his pocket and taps the screen a few times before handing it to Sam. It’s a YouTube video of Sam, but it doesn’t quite look like him. He’s wearing glasses  and his hair is slicked back and slightly shorter than it should be.

“Ew,” Sam mutters and Dean huffs out a laugh.

“That’s exactly what I thought.”

The Sam in the video paces around a stage, spewing all sorts of pretentious health tricks and stuff about not letting anything hold you back, not even family. He ends the speech with “I mean, God bless kale, am I right?”

Sam makes a face. “I—that’s—I’ve never—”

Dean just sits and watches him.

Sam quickly searches both his and his brother’s names. Dean’s been on the FBI’s Most Wanted list since ‘09 and Sam has his own law firm.

Finally, Sam searches for you.

“Y/N Singer was convicted for multiple counts of murder, arson, grave desecration, and sentenced to the death penalty. Her sentence was carried out on February 23, 2009,” Sam reads out loud and puts a hand to his mouth. Dean watches him, eyes calculating.

Sam sprints to the bathroom and empties the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl.

“I hope you had that same reaction the day it happened,” Dean says coldly, leaning one shoulder on the doorframe and watching as his little brother retches.

“You said I killed her,” Sam says weakly once he’s finished, slumping against the side of the bathtub.

“You went into law, missing Dad be damned, and rose through the ranks of your pretentious law firm,” Dean says, crouching down so he can look his brother in the eyes as he reminds him of his sins, because it would appear he’s forgotten.

Dean’s so livid Sam can’t even see it. How Sam could forget what he had done, how he could dare to speak your name out loud, it baffles him. There’s no excuse. “You were assigned to prosecute Y/N when she was caught, I guess. And your reputation was too important, so you made sure she was sentenced. You know what you told me?”

Sam hugs his knees to his chest. “What?”

“You said you’d help her get out. And then you didn’t, because they could have caught you. And she died.” Dean turns away so Sam can’t see the struggle on his face. Sam can’t be faking this memory thing, because he knows that what he did was unforgivable and that Dean had sworn to kill him if he ever saw him again. So for Sam to show up on his doorstep, acting like the brother he remembers from their shared childhood… the only explanation is that he really is having an episode or whatever.

“Y/N never hurt a person,” he says softly, starting to vibrate with anger. “She was the sweetest hunter I ever knew. You loved her, Sam.”

Sam shuts his eyes and shakes his head.

“You loved her! And you killed her!” Dean bellows. “Because you couldn’t handle losing a case!”

“That wasn’t me!” Sam yells. “I would never, Dean!”

“That’s what I thought, too!” Dean shouts, his face turning red, fists clenching so he doesn’t reach for his gun. “You forget I raised you, Sam! I taught you every trick, every move, every game I know! I sacrificed everything for you! You ate first, you got the bed and I got the floor, and I never complained, because I loved you, and I was happy that you were happy! I was happy that you were turning out good because I had turned into a fucking mother to take care of you, and then you know what you do? You kill my sister. You killed Y/N and then you have the audacity to keep that picture in your bedside stand and say you regret it and say you still love her. You didn’t love her. You didn’t love me. And I shouldn’t have loved you.”

While he had been yelling, Sam had put his head in his knees and started to sob, shoulders shaking, because he knows that this isn’t real but right now he doesn’t have you, and for some reason, for some godawful reason, he’s starting to remember talking with you after your trial and promising to get you out but then his boss had called for a dinner and he had gone to that dinner and you had died. “You don’t mean that, Dean. Y-you can’t.” There’s an awful, hollow feeling in his chest that he should be used to, after years of you being dead, but the thought of being used to it makes him terrified.

There’s memories coming back that Sam knows aren’t real, the memory of the night, that dinner with his boss, and when he got home he was told that there was a scheduling error by his secretary Nancy and that Y/N had been executed already.

And even though it never happened to him, Sam can feel every excruciating detail of that memory, burnt into his memory, and the waves of grief that only Dean could have soothed, and then his brother had called and threatened to kill him.

And now Dean hates him and he loves kale and the only decorations in his room are a picture of you, a CD, and a pretentious quote on his wall.

Dean’s fit of anger fades when he sees his brother’s shuddering shoulders. Goddamnit, but he still does have a soft spot for his brother, no matter what he did, because he is Sam’s mother, after all. Sam’s practically a part of him.

“Dean, I swear to God, I would never do that,” Sam vows, wiping his eyes but keeping his eyes on the floor. His eyes go wide when he realizes what must be going on. “You didn’t happen to piss off an angel recently, did you?”

“What?”

Sam scrambles to his feet. “This has happened before—our memories have been messed with before, remember when I was working IT and you were a health nut? Maybe we pissed off an angel and they decided to pull this trick—”

“Wow, you really are out of it,” Dean says, his eyes half-lidded as he watches Sam. That’s how he is nowadays; wild and extreme mood swings because he’d lost every single person he’d ever loved. “Angels, Sam? Is this some sort of midlife crisis? Has the stress made you lose your mind?”

“Cas,” Sam mutters. “Dean, where’s Cas?”

“Who?”

“Wait, if I didn’t die, then the angels wouldn’t have pulled you from hell, so of course you don’t know Cas,” he continues feverishly. “So no apocalypse because you didn’t go to hell. So you’ve just been a regular hunter all these years?”

“What are you talking about?” Dean frowns. “What else would I have been?”

“Dean, if you ever loved me, just trust me,” Sam says, standing up and brushing by his brother. “I have a story to tell.”

Dean’s face is blank when Sam finishes the story. Finally, he asks, “How many drugs are you on?”

“I’m not out of it,” Sam insists. “Dude, trust me. What we would do would make people think we’re crazy, but we know monsters are real. And if demons are real, why’s it so unbelievable that angels might be too?”

“Fine, angels, maybe,” Dean relents. “But everyone knows you can’t come back from the dead!”

“What about zombies and ghosts?” Sam reminds him.

“But that’s not really coming back.”

“Look, dude, just trust me. I—”

“Y/N trusted you,” Dean mutters.

Sam winces. “You’ve got to believe me, man. That wasn’t me—that must have been, like, a different version of me. Not this version, trust me. I… I haven’t wanted to be a lawyer in a long time. I’ve loved hunting with you and Y/N for years.”

“Y/N never wanted kids and a normal life like you did,” Dean reminisces. “That’s why she was so nervous around you, because she didn’t think you would still like her if she didn’t want what you did.”

“Dean, if you help me, I promise we’ll get Y/N back. Not just back, but this entire existence—me leaving, Y/N dying, all of it—that will get erased and it will never have happened. I promise.”

Dean eyes Sam warily. “Maybe you’re just freaking out, but sure. Worst comes to worst, you wake up and go back to your lawyering and I go back to hunting and we pretend this never happened.”

“Now we just need to figure out what happened,” Sam sighs. “Cas will know.”

“Cas, who saved me from hell?” Dean asks and Sam nods. “Well, how do we get him down here?”

“I know a ritual.”

“This isn’t gonna work,” Dean mutters. “Angels don’t exist, otherwise hunters would have encountered them a while ago—”

“Dude, most of them are dicks,” Sam interrupts. “I’m sure some hunters have encountered them and the angels smited them.”

“Then why are we summoning a dick down here?”

Sam frowns. “Cas was a dick at first, but he got better. Hopefully he won’t kill us immediately. Maybe he even remembers the timeline I came from. Angels are weird,” Sam adds as an afterthought. “I know something that will banish him, anyway.”

Once they’re set up, Dean hovering by the symbol on the wall, ready to press it to banish Cas at a moment’s notice, and Sam ready to talk to the angel, they share a look. It’s a normal look for Sam, the way they both check with each other to make sure they’re ready before hunting, but it hurts Dean’s heart. He’s missed his brother.

“All right, Cas,” Sam says, finishing the ritual. “Get on down here.”

A white light blinds them. Once it fades, Cas wearing Jimmy Novak is squinting at the two hunters. “Who are you and how did you know how to summon me?”

“Cas, it’s me,” Sam pleads. “Don’t you remember?”

“I’ve never seen you before,” the angel replies. His angel blade falls into his hands. “Are you the one that’s been interfering with time?”

“Sort of, I guess?” Sam winces. “I want to set it back, though. I don’t like this timeline very much.”

“The Winchesters,” the angel realizes. “You were special, the both of you.” His eyes linger on Dean’s. Dean gulps. “You wish to fix this mistake?”

“Can’t you?” Sam asks. “I know Gabe and Zachariah have done things like this before.”

Cas frowns and shakes his head. “The fountain’s magic is one I am not allowed to break.”

“The fountain?” Sam frowns. “The fountain? Oh!”

“Sure, I wish to have never gotten back in the life even when you came to pick me up from college.”

“Set things right,” Cas says gravely. “My superiors aren’t very happy with you.”

He disappears.

“That was an angel?” Dean asks. “Wow. He sort of sucked.”

“He’s better in my timeline,” Sam mutters. “All right, we have to find the fountain that granted me this wish.”

Dean barks out a harsh laugh. “What, you wished for Y/N to be dead and to be a lawyer?”

“I was joking around with you,” Sam murmurs. “I said something like ‘I wish I’d never gone with you when you came to pick me up from college’.”

Dean looks at him incredulously. “That’s something you joke about?”

“The you I know is a lot more easygoing,” Sam says under his breath. “So, what? Did I refuse to come with you or what?”

Even as he asks that, he remembers it: Sam telling Dean that he would be able to handle it, Jess dying only a little later, and Sam throwing himself into his work to distract himself. You visited sometimes, which reminded him of his old childhood crush on you, and eventually you two got together.

Then you’d made the FBI’s Most Wanted list.

“Don’t answer that,” Sam says hastily when Dean opens his mouth. “All right, well, that should be pretty easy. Destroying the fountain should work, right?”

“I assume so,” Dean shrugs. “I’m still not convinced you’re not bonkers, but let’s go.”

“Fuck!”

Dean crosses his arms as he watches his little brother pace around, spewing expletives, in front of the ‘Closed’ sign of the little Chinese restaurant. The insides are completely barren; whatever fountain Sam’s looking for is long gone.

Sam’s looking a little spare at the moment, his hair ruffled from running his hands through it so much, eyes twitching from tiredness, cursing like a sailor. Passerby give him a wide berth.

“God damn it,” the younger Winchester mutters, fishing his phone out of his pocket and answers this Nancy that’s been calling him nonstop. “What the hell could be so important?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Winchester, but you didn’t show up at work today so I thought you might be sick and your house was empty and ransacked when I got to it—” the secretary on the other end babbles.

Sam holds the phone away from his ear and looks to Dean for help, but Dean’s stopped helping him long ago. Eventually he interrupts Nancy by saying, “I’m fine. I’m taking a vacation right now. Don’t call me again.”

“A vacation?” the girl repeats. “Mr. Winchester, are you all right?”

Sam hangs up and rolls his eyes at Dean, who should smirk and make a sexual comment about his secretary going to his house, but this Dean just raises one eyebrow and turns away. Sam blinks and shakes his head.

“So we gotta figure out where the fountain is, right?” Dean asks.

“If it isn’t demolished,” Sam mutters. “If it is, then I don’t know what we’ll do.” Surprising Dean, though he really shouldn’t be surprised at this point, considering the sort of madness his brother is spewing right now, he sits down on the sidewalk and puts his head on his knees.

Maybe when they were kids Dean would know what to do, but his brother’s been spewing anti-family content for years, making it very clear that he’s not welcome and no amends are going to be made anytime soon. Plus, at this point, the only thing Dean knows about Sam is his name. What he likes, if he’s seeing anyone (though that would be like betraying Y/N, Dean feels like), and all that other stuff is a mystery.

It’s the nostalgia that makes Dean sit down next to his brother, not quite able to bring himself to put a hand on his back. Even if his brother has mysteriously lost his memory and thinks they’ve been hunting together for the past few decades, that doesn’t mean he’s just forgotten seeing that face push for Y/N to be killed.

“Hey, you don’t happen to have a headache or anything, do you?” Dean asks. “You haven’t hit your head or anything?”

Sam gives him a scalding look. “I’m not crazy, Dean. Not yet, anyway.”

Dean frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m starting to remember things that I haven’t done,” Sam whispers. “I remember the trial. I remember pushing to kill Y/N. And I can’t remember some things about my timeline, like where I took Y/N out on our first date.”

“You’re starting to turn into the Sam I know,” Dean realizes.

“I don’t want to be him,” Sam whispers, looking at his brother with teary eyes. “Please, Dee. I don’t want to be him.”

“That’s all right,” Dean says, suddenly reminded of how Sam would cry sometimes when he wanted something from Dean when they were kids. He slings his arm around Sam’s shoulders. “You’re not gonna. I won’t let you.”

Sam sniffs. Despite being over six feet tall, his hunched shoulders and inturned feet make him look small.

“Let’s call it a night and get back to it in the morning,” Dean suggests, standing up and taking Sam with him. “I doubt you’ll forget your entire life in one night.”

The brothers track the fountain to one place, but it turns out they sold it to another place, and then that place had it transferred to another facility, but then the truck that had been carrying it had crashed, and somehow the brothers find themselves picking through a dump. Dean looks up to see his brother’s disgusted face as he wades through the leaking garbage bags, but it’s not a regular disgusted face, it’s a ‘this is all beneath me’ face. For a moment Dean forgets about everything that’s happened, seeing that expression on his brother’s face, and wonders why he’s bothering to help his brother.

Then Sam blinks and shakes his head. He smiles at his brother, a tense one but a real smile nonetheless, and Dean remembers. Sam’s starting to squint a bit now, his eyes going as he turns more into the Sam Dean knows. The physical sign of his change is scaring both of them.

If Dean can have his brother and his sister back, he’d do anything, but watching this new Sam turn into the Sam he’s used to is killing him.

Sam almost starts to cry when he finally sees the fountain. It’s sitting in the middle of a pile of black garbage bags. “Dean! Dean, come look!”

Dean scrambles over and looks to where his brother’s pointing. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Sam nods. “I’m sure of it.”

“Then we’ll need to get it to a construction site,” Dean says decisively. “Run it over with a truck, you think?”

“Maybe taking the coin will reverse it,” Sam says. He starts to make his way to the fountain when a shout stops Dean from following him.

Dean turns around with a fake smile. “Yes?”

“This is private property,” an old man with a missing tooth bellows from a few yards away. He must be slightly deaf. “You boys better get off right now!”

“All right!” Dean yells, beckoning Sam over. Sam holds up the penny, glinting in the fading light, and pockets it. “Sorry, sir! We’re leaving now! You think that’ll do the trick?” he adds in an undertone to Sam.

Sam shrugs. “If we wake up and things aren’t changed, we can just destroy it tomorrow.”

“Man, I can’t wait to see Y/N,” Dean says, smiling wistfully.

“Me too,” Sam agrees fervently. “You have no idea.”

Dean thinks he does, but he keeps his mouth shut. One thing about this new Sam becoming more like the old Sam is him thinking less and less about other people. He really hopes this works.

Dean wakes up to a familiar click. When he opens his eyes, his pistol is staring him down. Sam is holding it up, jaw clenched. “Sammy?”

“It’s Sam,” he corrects unconsciously. “What the hell am I doing with you ? Did you kidnap me?”

“Hey, you tracked me down,” Dean says, sitting up fully. His brother won’t kill him, he doesn’t think. “You were having a meltdown. You completely lost it.”

“I’m surprised I’m not dead, then,” Sam sneers. “Considering you’re a professional killer. Maybe I should call the FBI, see what they think about Dean Winchester being here.”

“Well, out of the two of us, I’m not the one that’s killing innocents,” Dean shrugs, his voice light so it doesn’t betray his emotions. That would be embarrassing.

Sam’s hands tremble.

“We both know you aren’t gonna shoot me, Sam,” Dean says, eyeing his brother’s posture. His legs are spread too wide, both hands on the gun. He’s lost his edge, and for the first time Dean’s completely sure that he was telling the truth earlier. No one is good enough of an actor to completely change their posture for a character. This Sam moves and acts, hell, even breathes different from how he’d done it just yesterday. “Put down the gun.”

Dean needs to smash that fountain. This is hell; the way Sam’s looking at him now compared to the way he looked at him yesterday. He wants to cry. He’s lost his brother again, and he might not even get him back. Or you. Somehow knowing that he could have gotten them both back makes it so much worse.

“Don’t fucking contact me again,” his brother spits. He sets the gun down and hightails it out of the room.

“Wouldn’t want to!” Dean yells after him.

When the maid comes in to clean later, she finds the entire room has been wrecked.

Dean runs the bulldozer over that stupid fountain once, then twice, then three times, until the stone is just dust under its wheels, and then he hits the wheel once when nothing happens. Maybe Sam had been faking it after all, a cruel trick he’d devised, or he really was helping the FBI find Dean. At this point, he wouldn’t even care if he was arrested. Knowing his luck, Sam would be the one to prosecute him, too.

Dean revs the engine of the bulldozer and starts to pull it forward, but it jerks to the side so violently he’s thrown out of the car, falling, falling, falling…

Falling right into a bed.

Dean and Sam wake up with identical gasps of air, Dean in the motel room and Sam in the car.

Sam throws himself over the seat, waking you up as he hugs you to his body tight enough to strangle you.

“Uncle!” you joke-wheeze and tap his arm. “Sam, what gives?”

Sam pulls away just enough to let you breathe and buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. He doesn’t think he’ll ever let you go now that you’re in his arms for fear of you disappearing or worse. Being able to smell you and run his hands up and down your arms reassures him that you’re really here and not dead anymore, thank God.

“I just had a really bad dream,” he finally mutters.

You smooth down his bedhead absently. “Clowns or midgets? Did I save you from them?”

Before Sam can answer, the Impala’s door opens and Dean catapults himself into the hugfest wearing only his boxers. The girl he’d brought home stands in the doorway of the room, watching with confusion.

“Let me guess,” you laugh, gladly accepting Dean’s hug as well, “you had a bad dream too?”

“You have no idea,” Dean replies, his eyes meeting Sam’s over your head.

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes

[bangchanshehe]

Handsome Disaster pt. 9

Summary: When the school bad boy and womanizer Hoseok turns his attention on you it’s hard to ignore. Especially with your best friends being in a relationship and living five doors down from each other.

Genre: Angst/Smut/Romance

Word Count: 5.1k

Hoseok took you inside and the two of you quickly and quietly went inside of your room. Hoseok walked around like a mad man checking windows, making sure that they were locked through the whole house. You busied yourself with packing up things that you would need. You didn’t know how long Hoseok would allow you to stay so you only packed a few days’ worth of clothes. You went to the bathroom and grabbed your toothbrush and other toiletries that you would need. You walked back to your bed and sat your things down in your travel bag neatly so they wouldn’t get your clothes messy. But the feeling of being watched was becoming unsettling. You looked out your window and noticed the blinds were partially opened, enough that you could see outside clearly. You imagined seeing Shownu’s silhouette just beyond the window and cringed thinking about what he’d seen. Had he seen you shower? Or change? How long has he been doing it?  Goose bumps started to cover your arms and you were about to rubs your arms when a pair rapped around your torso. You jumped and quietly yelped at the intrusion of your thoughts.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you” Hoseok whispered into your ear, putting his chin on your shoulder.

You relaxed at his words and unclenched your hands. You reached up for his hands and held them as he held you.

“Is this all that you’re taking?” he asked looking over you and into your bag and eyed what was inside

“Why? Do I need to bring more?” you asked and he pulled away from you and pulled your bag across the bed, closer to him.

“No” was all he said before he started pulling things out of your bag.

You watched the pile of toiletries that you just put inside get taken out by him. You continued to watch in silence and confusion as he took out everything that he wanted and then zipped your bag and picking it up with a smile.

“Hoseok, I need my toothbrush, hairbrush, toothpaste and everything else that you took out of my bag…”

“No you don’t…” he said with a cocky smile “I need to buy somethings at the market for our lunch and leaving your things here gives me an excuse to buy things for you to keep at my place.”

You rolled your eyes at his stupid cuteness and couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across your cheeks. He put the bag back down on your bed and took a step towards you. You noticed his change in demeanor from playful to sweet and didn’t avoid his advance towards you. He took another step and stopped in front of you. He brought his hands up to your face and caressed your face slowly as he memorized your features. You looked up into his eyes and put your hands on his waist. He looked down at your hands on his body and pulled his hands away from you to pull your hands completely around him, forcing you to hug him. He smiled down at you sweetly and you blushed at his obvious affection for you. He chuckled at your rosy cheeks and leaned forward kissing you on the forehead.

“I can’t believe that this is real” he said softly

You looked up at him noticing the insecurity in his voice. He looked at you in the eyes like you were his most prized possession and you stepped up on your tippy toes and planted a small kiss on his lips. He was slightly shocked by your kiss and smiled a shy smile.

“Why?” he asked “You can’t just kiss me all the time you know” he stated and you pulled away from him

“That’s the second time that you’ve attacked my pure lips!” he exclaimed

“Oh, I’m so sorry that I’ve stolen your first kiss!” you apologized sarcastically

“I’ll forgive you as long as you promise me one thing…” he started and you cocked your head to the side slightly waiting to hear what he had to say next “Come with me to my fight tomorrow.”

You contemplated if you really wanted to go back to the same crowd or possibly run into Shownu there.

“As long as Minhyuk and Sera go too, then I’ll go!” you replied and the boy smiled at you widely nodding his head.

You grabbed your thing and headed for the front door ready to go to the supermarket for food. Hoseok opened up his front door and dropped his back pack and yours, walked back to his room and set your bag down on his bed. He met you back in the living room and grabbed his helmet ready to take you to the store. You placed the helmet on your head and followed him out, swinging your leg across the motorcycle as soon as he was seated down. You wrapped your arms around his waist and put your head down on his back, bracing yourself for his takeoff.

The ride to the supermarket was much tamer than what you expected from his past driving skills and got off of his bike not dizzy for once. Hoseok unclasped your helmet and took it off of your head smiling at your now messier hair. He hid the helmet inside of the seat console and took your hand, heading straight towards the front doors.  You grabbed a grocery cart and began pushing it, following Hoseok towards the first aisle. He grabbed as many packs of ramen as he could fit in his hands and threw them in the cart. How in the hell could he eat that and look like a damn marble statue? If you even looked at cooked ramen you gained ten pounds! You followed him up and down every aisle until he was done grabbing his groceries.

Next things to get were the items of yours to keep at his house. He took you down to the other half of the store that had toiletries and began to grab each thing that you needed one by one. You watched as he picked out everything that you needed and chose all of the same brands and products that you used. You were impressed with his memory and smiled at his consideration for you.

You checked out all of the items that you needed and went to the bike. As you approached you were becoming worried. How in the hell is all of this stuff supposed to get home? Hoseok lifted up the seat console and took out the helmet and stuffed all of your things inside, then crammed as many bags as he could before closing the seat. There were only three more bags left of ramen and you knew that you would be left to hold them on the way home. Hoseok climbed on and waited until you were absolutely comfortable and balanced with the extra bags in your hands. Once you were settled in you patted him on the shoulder.

You arrived home and saw Minhyuk and Sera inside watching tv together. Hoseok went into the kitchen with the groceries and you sat down on the couch next to Sera and told her the bad news.

“Hey, I’m really sorry to have to say this to you but… Shownu has been peeping through our windows and made a pretty big scene on campus today. He’s really dangerous and out of control, so for the time being I’m going to be staying here with Hoseok, as long as it’s okay with you Minhyuk…” you focused your attention on him and he gave you a nod “And I would really feel better if you didn’t stay at home by yourself either.” You said turning back to Sera.

Her mouth gaped and quivered like a fish, at a loss for words and turned towards Minhyuk.

“Are you okay?” she asked you

“I’m fine, as long as I’m not near the house for now.” You replied and Sera nodded her head

“Can I stay here too?” She asked Minhyuk

Minhyuk grabbed her hand and smiled at her softly

“Of course it is! Let’s go and get some of your stuff so you can stay over here comfortably for the next few days okay?” he asked and Sera got up and the two left the apartment.

Hoseok came out of the kitchen with the few bags of yours and nodded his head towards his bedroom, asking you to follow him. He continued to walk away and you followed behind him. He sat your things down on the bed next to your other bag of clothes waiting for you to open your bags up and unpack. You felt awkward just standing there and looked over at Hoseok unsure of just what to do. Realization finally hit you and you realized that less than six hours ago you were still single, and now you were unpacking and putting toiletries in your boyfriend’s bathroom.

Hoseok grew impatient and grabbed the grocery sack and walked into his bathroom, and you stood against the door frame watching as he placed each item in his bathroom where they belonged. Your toothpaste sat next to his, your toothbrush was in the holder next to his, shampoo and body wash in the shower on the opposite side of his and your deodorant and hair ties were on the shelf above the toilet next to his other belongings. Once he was done putting everything away he scanned the bathroom over once smiling at the noticeable difference and turned around to you.

“Don’t you think this is a little too fast?” you asked slightly scared and Hoseok’s eyes widened a little

“Oh, um…” he looked around the room avoiding eye contact for a moment “I haven’t every really been in a relationship before so I don’t really know.” He said rubbing the back of his head “Why? Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked

“No, It’s just- I’ve never been in a serious relationship before either so I don’t really know what’s too soon or what’s too much, I-“you tried to finished by Hoseok cut you off

“Are you happy?” he asked you completely serious and you scrunched your eyebrows

“Yes, of course I’m happy”

“And I’m happy too, so why do we have to standardize our relationship like everyone else’s as long as we’re both happy with where we are?” he asked you

“I’m sorry, you’re right.” You apologized with your head hanging down

He picked your chin up with the tip of his pointer finger and forced you to look at him.

“It’s okay.” He said with a smile

He turned his attention to your overnight bag and began pulling out your things and laying them out neatly on his desk. You were fine with him handling everything until he found your underwear and bra. You leaped forward and tried to hide them from him by sticking everything back into your bag. He seemed unfazed by the sight of your delicates and laughed at your reaction to him seeing.

“What are you doing in here?” Sera said coming into the room with a confused look when she noticed your bag in Hoseok’s room.

“I’m just unpacking a few things.” You said with a small innocent smile.

“Okay?... In Hoseok’s room?” she asked in disbelief

You turned to Hoseok and gave him a questioning look. He nodded at you egging you on to continue and you turned back to Sera, who looked like she was even more confused than before.

“Hoseok and I-“ you began but was cut off by Hoseok kissing you quickly on the cheek.

Sera gasped and her eyes flew wide open at the sight of the two of you. you turned and hit Hoseok playfully on the arm but it only made Hoseok grin like a fool.

“OH. MY. GOD!” she yelled and Minhyuk came crashing after hearing her. He stopped at the door and looked around the room not noticing anything dangerous or exciting.

“Are you two dating?” She finally asked. Minhyuk’s eyebrows shut up and he nodded his head at Hoseok, giving him a thumbs up.

You were about to agree when Hoseok interjected.

“Yes” he said kissing you on the cheek once more.

Sera squealed and jumped around the room.

“Oh my god, I kind of hoped that this would happen to be honest!” she confessed

Minhyuk laughed at her enthusiasm and pulled her out of the room, leaving just you and Hoseok left in the room. You grabbed your bag and turned towards the door. Hoseok shot his arm out to grab you

“Where are you taking your bag?” he asked confused

“Out to the living room?” you asked confused by his question

“Why?” he asked

“I’m sleeping on the couch.” You stated and Hoseok pouted

“You’re sleeping on the couch?” he asked

“Where else am I going to sleep? In here with you?” you asked while laughing at the thought

“No, I was going to let you have my bed and I was going to sleep on the couch.” He clarified

“But then where is Sera supposed to sleep?” you asked

“With Minhyuk” he answered and you stopped and thought about it for a minute “She’s stayed the night here already, so no worries” he finally said noticing your worried face.

“Oh” was all you said as you realized that you friend was already sexually active with Minhyuk, you hadn’t thought of them like that before.

“Are you hungry? Let’s go eat!” Hoseok said walking out of his room and into the kitchen ready to make food.

About five hours later the four of you were on the couch watching a movie still groaning over your food babies from eating entirely too much ramen. That is all of you except Hoseok, the ramen god. When the ending credits rolled across the screen he got up from the couch and walked into his room yelling:

“Minie, I’m going exercising do you want to come?”

“Yes, if I don’t move I’m going into a ramen coma” he answered back

And feeling the exact same way you got up and walked to Hoseok’s room

“Can I come too?”  you asked completely unaware of your almost naked boyfriends physique being exposed.

You made eye contact with him and noticed how naked he was and turned around facing the wall quickly.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t thinking, I just-“ you rambled on at a loss for words.

“Why are you always apologizing Angel?” he asked with a laugh in his voice

He tapped you on the shoulder and you slowly turned around ready to sprint at the sight of any exposed flesh. You quickly looked down and saw he had shorts and a shirt on and sighed.

“Why are you so shy?” he asked slowly stepping forward and backing you into the wall.

Your body hit the wall and you prayed to the gods in hope that Wonho wouldn’t touch you. You were like a bomb ready to go off after seeing his honed body. You breathed slower trying to calm yourself down and hoped that you would be able to control yourself in the sexually charged environment.

“hmm?” he hummed after your lack of an answer

“I’m not shy!” you tried to say sounding confident

“Then why are you blushing?” he asked again putting both of his hands by your head pinning you to the wall. He leaned forward and lightly grazed your lips with his.

“You make blind people blush” you pouted out

Hoseok just chuckled darkly and finally kissed you on the lips, pulling away just when you leaned in for more.

“I’ll go and let you get changed” he said quietly before winking at you and heading out to the living room.

You went to your bag and found appropriate clothes and changed as slowly as possible. You needed a breather and some alone time to clear all of the lust from your mind. You put on your socks and pulled your tennis shoes from your bag and walked out to the living room. Everyone was changed except for Sera.

“Are you not coming?” you asked her and she shook her head

“Nah, I’ve got some homework to take care of and I’m starting to get sleepy.” She said

Hoseok, Minhyuk and you all walked outside and down to the provided apartment gym. You hadn’t been inside the gym here before and took a moment to look around all of the machines that were inside. Minhyuk and Hoseok immediately took their places at machines and after looking over everything you stuck to your usual workout of choice. You chose a treadmill underneath the vent where the cold air was blowing and began a fast walk. You turned on your music and tuned out everything while you warmed your body up. After a few minutes went by you speed up breaking into a jog. You focused on the music that you were hearing trying to keep with the tempo and feel the music.  

Your focus went away in a flash when you noticed a few more men come in and take place next to you on the treadmill. At first it didn’t bother you too much and you continued with your jog, mentally blocking everything out. The boys ran with you at your pace and continued to watch you as the minutes passed impressed by your stamina. When you finally reach your breaking point and stopped the machine and hopped off for some water at the fountain, one of the men stepped off of his treadmill as well. You were bent over a water fountain when he approached you and stuck his hand out introducing himself.

“Hi, I’m Changkyun” he said with a smile

Being polite you offered your hand as well “I’m Y/n”

“Have you lived here long? I’ve never seen you around!” he asked

“I just moved in this semester, you?”

“Me too, it’s my freshman year so I’m pretty new to the place as well.” He answered back “You are really impressive! Do you run regularly?” he asked again

You were about to answer when Hoseok came up behind you and wrapped his arm around you to push the water fountain button and drink some water. When he came up from the fountain he kissed you on the cheek and walked away like nothing happened. You laughed at his small way of marking his territory.

“No, no I don’t” you finally answered Changkyun back.

“Alright, well I’ll let you get back to your workout then” he said looking slightly defeated.  

You moved to a free weight stand and started to do some lunges when you saw Hoseok and Minhyuk doing pull ups. Hoseok had completely discarded his sweat stained shirt, showing off his ridiculous body. You acted like a zombie completely hypnotized by him and continued to lunge without paying attention to your surroundings. Hoseok looked over at you, feeling your gaze on him and winked at you when the two of you made eye contact. You didn’t even bother to act like you weren’t totally eating him up in your imagination, but smiled at Hoseok’s wink.

After about thirty more minutes of working out the boys were ready to go home, and you were more than ready to take a shower. You wiped down your weights and put them back in place. The three of you walked out and you tried to keep up with the boys who had endless energy, however you felt like dragging yourself if you could manage. You finally reached the apartment and Hoseok opened the door allowing everyone to pile inside. Minhyuk left straight for his room to take a shower and Hoseok went into the kitchen. He came back out a minute later with two bottles of water and chugged his whole bottle.

“You can shower first, I’ll wait” he said panting

You didn’t have to be told twice and you headed off for his bedroom after saying thank you. You shut and locked Hoseok’s door so that he couldn’t accidentally barge in on you and stripped down, ready to take the world’s best and most deserved shower. Your body was relaxing by the second from the heat of the water beating down on your body and the smell of your shampoo and body wash. You wanted to stand under the current of water longer, but considered the water bill that Hoseok and Minhyuk would be having with you and Sera staying over and finished your shower as quickly as possible.

You made your way to your bag and put on clean sweats and an oversized shirt and brushed your hair out. You cleaned your face and brushed your teeth to complete your night time routine and walked out to the living room.

“I’m done” you said standing behind Hoseok who was drinking a protein shake at the kitchen table and playing a game on his phone.

He didn’t bother to look up at you and chugged the rest of his drink down in one gulp before placing it in the kitchen sink and heading to his room still immersed in whatever was on his phone. You sat down on the couch watching tv by yourself since everyone else was in their room and decided to relax while you waited for Hoseok to finish.

You had no idea what you were watching but it was incredibly captivating even after only having been watching it for ten minutes. Hoseok calling your name from his room caught your attention and pulled you towards his room. You made it inside and glanced around the room quickly making sure that he wasn’t naked.

“What?” you asked

“Can you do me a favor?” he asked from the bathroom

“Sure, what is it?”

“It may seem like I’m reaching for attention, but I genuinely would be very appreciative if you would massage my back.” He pleaded, sounding like he was in a bit of pain.

“Oh, sure, I can do that.” You said like a fool, unaware of what you were signing yourself up for.

“Thank you so much.” Hoseok said coming out of the bathroom with wet floppy hair and misty skin. His smile stretched across his face in appreciation and his sweats hung low on his waist.

“This is the lotion the Minhyuk uses, it heats up as you use it.” He said handing you a bottle of lotion, snapping your attention away from what was lurking below his sweats.

He took a seat on the edge of the bed and you sat behind him placing your legs around each side of his body for your comfort.

“Where does it hurt?” you asked

He leaned forward and reached around his body pointing to his right shoulder and half way down the right side of his back.

You opened the cap of the lotion and squeezed it into your hands. You could smell the mint in the lotion, which was strong enough to make anyone high on fumes. You rubbed your hands together trying to warm up the cool lotion before applying it to his back and slowly ran your hands across the length of the injured area, trying to coat it all with lotion. You pressed harder and slowly began to knead at his muscular shoulders trying to work out any stress or knots he had. You applied more lotion to your hands and rubbed him down again and again until you felt his back begin to warm up to hotter temperatures.

“Am I doing it okay? Is the pressure okay?” you asked

“A little bit harder princess, don’t be afraid to hurt me okay?’’ he said with a sweet tone

“okay.”

You pressed down on his flesh firmer and Hoseok let out a long sigh. You tried every technique that you could think of to help him feel relieved for the next twenty minutes. When he had reached a limit where he had enough he stood up and went to the bathroom and wet a rag down until it was all soaked and then rung out the excess water.

“Here, use this to wipe off the lotion, otherwise it’ll only get hotter and hotter and it’ll burn me.” Hoseok said offering you the rag.

You took it from him and wiped down his back until you couldn’t feel the slick on him anymore. Once you were confident you had it all off you pat him on the back to tell him it was all done. He turned and took the rag from you and threw it into the bathroom carelessly. He rolled his shoulder a few times and gripped it hard by the joint.

“Are you sure that you’re okay to sleep on the couch tonight? I don’t want you to hurt your shoulder more than it already hurts.” You said

He turned around and sat with his legs crossed in front of you, and you moved down the bed to make him room.  

“Do you want to sleep on the couch then?” he asked teasing you with a cheeky smily

“Well…no, not exactly.” You confessed

“I’ll be fine I promise” he said standing up and crossing the room to get a blanket and pillow from his closet.

You watched him as he tried to reach for the items and recognized the light strain that he showed on his face as he tried to reach over his head. You quickly got up and walked into the closet to stand by his side. You took his free hand and held it tightly.

“Leave it.” You said and Hoseok looked down at you with a  blank expression “Just stay with me tonight” you said hoping that he would accept and get a good night’s rest.

He dropped his hand that was suspended and nodded his head, agreeing to your request.

The lights were turned out and the two of you were wrapped up comfortably behind the covers except neither of you could sleep. The moonlight crept in the room from the window and painted stripes across Hoseok’s walls and ceiling. You watched the patterns change as trees and bushes blew around in the wind, disturbing the clean lines distributed across the room. You felt as uneasy at the wind, constantly changing and heart racing, just thinking about the man who was lying next to you.

In dramas you had seen this type of thing happen and you would be the first person to yell at the characters to make a first move, however now being in the exact same spot you couldn’t even bring yourself to look in his direction. You tried to shift your weight a little and close your eyes but nothing would keep your mind from reeling.

“Why are you still awake? Hoseok asked with a huskier sleepy voice

You cleared your throat and glanced over at him, finding him wide awake and turned facing you.

“It’s my first time ever sleeping with a guy” you confessed rather easy and Hoseok chuckled

“It’s my first time ever sleeping with a girl” Hoseok admitted as well

You were pretty shocked by his confession finding it almost hard to believe. You turned on your side reflecting the same position that Hoseok was sleeping in and watching him just like he was watching you.

“I don’t know if I have bad sleeping habits, so I’m sorry in advance” he said laughing

“It’s okay, once I’m asleep nothing will wake me up” you offered

Hoseok just smiled softly over at you and watched you silently while you watched him. he leaned forward and brushed some of your hair out of your face, and tucked it in place.

“Why are you so beautiful?” he said softly to himself and you turned your head into your pillow, attempting to hide your blush

Hoseok moved closer to you so your bodies were almost touching and grasped your face making you look at him.

“What did I do to deserve you?” he asked again

He reached down and planted a soft kiss across your lips. It would make your legs give out if you weren’t lying down you knew that for sure. Every ounce of his admiration for you was held in that one single small kiss and you could feel it. You reached up to his hair and played with it while he wrapped his arm around you. he sat still for a moment allowing you to do as you wish to him before he settle down, back on his back and pulled you down with him, making you lay half on top of him.

You tried to back up and give him some space but his free arm wrapped around you from the other side and locked you in place.

“Don’t move, stay right here” he stated softly closing his eyes and slowing his breathing down.

You stayed stiff for a few more moments before Hoseok began to rub his hand soothingly over your shoulder blades. You finally gave in and relaxed some, setting your leg across and in-between his own legs and your hand rest at his collar bone, gently caressing his shoulder.

Hoseok let out a soft sigh and turned his head to face you with hooded sleepy eyes

“Don’t get to comfortable princess, then you’ll never want to leave” he warned with a smile

You smiled back at him and this time you were the one to lean forward and kiss him softly on the lips. His hand snuck up your back and held your head in place while he kissed you back relentlessly. His mouth matched yours as he pressed his lips firmly against you and moved at your pace. His tongue poked out and skimmed yours when your mouth was slightly open. You allowed him more access to your mouth and pressed yourself further into him. Hoseok groaned at your physical contact and pulled away from you.

“Angel, we should stop now and go to sleep” he said breathless

You were slightly disappointed in is quick halt and settled back against him, the way you were. You let out a deep breath calming yourself down and shut your eyes.

“Good night Hoseok” you said quietly

“Good night Angel” he replied

NEXT PART

[hyacinthetic]

end of the year writing meme 2k17

because i did this last year and i want to gloat over my truly embarrassing uptick in wordcount.

Total number of completed stories: 8 + 1 wip + 1 snippet.  Total word count: 151,100, MOTHERFUCKER. Fandoms: voltron, persona 5, natsume’s book of friends.

Overall Thoughts

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you'd predicted? TOO MUCH VOLTRON. WAY, WAY TOO MUCH VOLTRON.

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January? i have 40k of lotor/matt sitting on my hard drive. it's going to break 60k after edits. i don't want this life.

What's your own favorite of the year? the post-series winter cult au was my favorite bit of writing, but i am gonna clutch the pseudo-utena pastiche (disclaimer: not actually related to utena in any way) to my chest all the more because nobody else will. 36K WORDS, MOTHERFUCKERS.

Did you take any writing risks this year? mmm. i've used the second-person pov before to varying degrees of efficacy, but the junior detective kurusu akira fic and the every day au were the first times i really tried to use it as a proper conceit -- a choice that related to the way the character wanted the story framed. ymmv on how well they worked (ha! ha! most of the second-person punch in the junior detective fic happens in the ~20k after the prologue, oh god, nobody even knows what i'm talking about). at the v. least, i still think the every day au's ending wouldn't pack such a punch from any other perspective.

Do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the new year? WRITE STUFF THAT ISN'T VOLTRON, FOR FUCK'S SAKE. i've been reduced to just clawing at doors hissing LET ME GO... LET MY PEOPLE GO ...

From my past year of writing, what was...

My best story of this year: definitely the post-series winter cult. people keep describing it as hard to get into, which, yeah, it is. but it's also the most polished piece from this year.

in general, my best fic is always still the dazai/yosano thing from 2016. i didn't even round out all the subplots for that one, but because it's a crack ship, the whole dynamic is something i made, and i think that earns it a place on the trophy shelf.

My most popular story of this year: the shrine guardian au, i guess? which is bewildering, frankly: it's very fluffy, but i don't see that it does anything better than my other works. not to be all lucille bluth, i love all my children equally!!! and its prose is fine, but i wouldn't call it a standout piece.

Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion: it is a tie between my two big voltron aus -- i understand why the pseudo-utena flopped as hard as it did (60k worth of fic crammed into 36k, badly edited, had to cut two subplots and it still turned out a mess), but the darkest timeline auniverse fic was decent work with mediocre prose and a fuckton of worldbuilding. i'm this close to digging up a worldbuilding meme and answering all the questions that literally nobody will ever ask. THERE WAS SO MUCH TIMELINE BUILDING IN THAT ONE.

Most fun story to write: fun & joy are lies. all fic is suffering. only the motor fic came close, and that was awful in a different way: two characters with little established personality having to build chemistry and worldbuilding at the same time. fuck you both.

Story with the single sexiest moment: hilariously, despite the amount of porn i like to write, none of my fic's been personally sexy to me since 2013's mikorei pwp in which mikoto blew up some buildings and then convinced munakata to fuck him into a wall. what can i say, i'm an arson kind of girl.

Most "holy crap, that's wrong, even for you" story: nothing posted this year! but i'm gonna talk about my impending january posts because god, fuck, i'm not waiting a year so that i can talk excitedly about my 60k nightmare, i plan to be fucking burned out on voltron by february.

anyway: the first time i tried to explain lotor/matt to my best girl, she promptly texted back in horror: "DID YOU WRITE FIC WHERE LOTOR SOULBONDS MATT AND LEAVES HIM TO GET GANGBANGED." and, like. i want to explain, but the actual explanation wasn't really that much more comforting. so, there'll be that. i guess.

(there's actually no non-con involved! it's not even dubcon! IT'S NOT EVEN MATT WHO GETS LEFT.)

Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters: the fucking motor fic. i knew what i liked about lotor as i was going in -- 90% of my motivation in writing it was "okay, i can't make any of the existing major lotor ships work for me, let's just throw this ridiculous spaghetti galra at a shipping wall and see what sticks" -- but matt was much more nebulous to me. i know fanon matt isn't all that far off from the matt we actually saw in season 4, but i was interested in someone who wasn't an older, cheerful, ingenious, meme-loving version of pidge. and the detail that i really got stuck on was the fact that he was a cadet when he went to kerberos, even though keith was the best pilot in his class and keith couldn't go. why?

obviously the simpler answer's "narrative convenience" and "why would anyone trust keith enough to send him into space with millions of dollars' worth of space equipment". but i really did want to play with the alternative too.

Hardest story to write: fucking god. the european travelogue was downright awful to get out. i think it's partly that there's an emotional density to it that isn't really present in my other fic, and partly that it's 25K OF SHIRO DESCRIBING ARCHITECTURE THAT IS PERFECTLY EASY FOR ANYBODY TO GOOGLE AND LOOK AT WITH THEIR OWN EYES.

i also found sheith particularly hard to build as a convincing slowburn. i have no idea how anyone does it. the ship's selling point, to me, is that keith would give shiro anything. if shiro weren't romantically interested, keith would live and die for him in every other way and be absolutely satisfied by that. i never write keith as secretly wanting more than shiro can give -- he'll do it by accident, when he misunderstands what shiro's capable of, but ultimately that's not what keith wants himself to be. shiro plays by the rules a little better, understands the risks + selfishness of dating someone only to leave them for a dangerous ten-month expedition -- but when it comes down to it, i can't write them as anything other than two people who understand each other at the baseline, where it counts. like, shiro may not actively acknowledge it, but i don't think he DOESN'T know that keith has no breaking point when it comes to him, and that there is very unlikely to be anyone else who could ever be what shiro is to him.

anyway: 25k of no-plot fluff! jesus! it was a fun little experiment, and i'm still amazed and delighted that anyone hunted my tumblr down to ask for fic. but i'll probably never write anything like that again.

Biggest disappointment: can you believe that i wrote 36k of psychic bonding fic and it didn't lead to telepathic porn? there's a lot in the utena pastiche that made me go "mm, not enough", a lot that was flatly messy first-draft fumbling, and i've never been happy about how it turned out, but that's still the biggest outrage to me. like. what was even the point. there's so much about it that makes me itch to rewrite, but the number-one reason that i never, ever will is that i'd have to find somewhere to fit porn to make it worth my time AND SOME THINGS ARE JUST IMPOSSIBLE.

Biggest surprise: i!! posted!! 100k+ words!!!!!!! WITH OVERFLOWING PUNCTUATION BECAUSE I DESERVE IT, MOTHERFUCKER. ficwise, though -- the lotor/matt au. why the fuck would you ship two characters who literally have no screen time together, share nothing in common, and are unlikely to develop a dynamic in future seasons, let alone this one? answer: ME: You have to promise to read the Lotor/Matt thing even though I've realised that their portmanteau is "Motor". MY GIRL: WELL now i have to read it ME: ME: Never mind, your boner killed mine.

but the joke's on me, because the one way to guarantee that i'll write something is a hot girl telling me she'll read it.

i love how most of this meme is grim self-encouragement to finish a fic that feels like it is literally killing me by dint of being the longest goddamn thing i've written in my life.

Most unintentionally telling story: well, it was GONNA be the junior detective kurusu akira fic, but i DIDN'T FINISH THAT.

on a more personal note: the every day au's ending was never in question for me. i'm rarely in the mood for conversation, but i can't stand keeping my feelings to myself: i don't feel real unless someone else can see me. it's why i like to yell in my post tags and do memes even though i follow like three actual personal blogs and a significant portion of this tumblr's designed to actively discourage 90% of people who stumble across it from adding me. the idea that, when you strip the viewer out, the object disappears -- that's probably as 'me' as a story gets.

Highlights + Wrap-up

Favourite Opening Lines (3):

The courthouse's a brushfire of camera lenses.

You wake up. [ ed. nt: not really the most unique or interesting of opening lines, but i've started to appreciate how this echoes throughout the piece and then builds into a clusterfuck chorus by the end. ]

[ nope. the other first lines weren't that great. fuck you, meme.]

Favorite 5 Line(s) Ficbits from Anywhere: [ ed. nt: fuck you, word limits & punctuation. ]

"I knew you were gone—long gone. No one could've called you back. But I just kept saying—if they were really Voltron, you'd be with them. You'd have come back for me."

"You stand," Allura whispers, "on territory that was consecrated by the five rituals of essential transference. You stand within the walls that my grandfather built, the walls for which my father sacrificed everything to keep from enemy dominion. The planet Altea remains because I lay claim to it, because I have not yielded to time and I will not yield. You may have served as Zarkon's witch; but in these halls, your very life hangs on Altea's mercy, my mercy. Either you'll remember an Altean's manners or a prisoner's—but so long as you speak to me, Haggar, you will choose one." -- so this fic was a series of dramatic triumphs that i did not build up to and therefore had no right to put in, but i don't care. if i'm going to write 100k++ of fic in a year, it's gonna be spread out over like ten different fics. and this is my favorite of the dramatic non-love confessional speeches that i wrote this year.

Keith lisps briefly and nastily under his breath. "Why would anyone pronounce an apostrophe?” <-- me throwing shade at a hundred years of scifi.

[ fuck you, listicles. ]

[ fuck you pt. 2. all the other sentences sucked. ]

Trivia left out of three fic:

pidge survives the events of the every day au and does eventually go on to form voltron. i left the fic where i did as a dramatic stopping point; in my head, i always knew where things were going to go afterwards. this clarity was helped in no small part because i had to immediately spill my guts to my best girl after she finished reading and realised in outrage that i'd given her a 19k fic in which her otp kissed zero (0) times. but yeah, everything works out -- albeit with a superdose of trauma -- and keith and pidge in particular have a moment which appeals to all my friendship kinks. i couldn't write the sequel in second-person, though, which is probably why i'll never do it. if i can't be pretentious and tragic, and i still can't work in any porn, then what is the point.

shiro, in the weird tattoo porn thing, has no idea of the effect he's having. in his mind, he's just being reasonable. this ties into my preference for writing s3-4!shiro as someone who thinks of himself as the same man who fell to earth a year ago, someone who has survived the galra over and over, someone who wants to lead in the war and deserves to do it. the trouble with this is that about one-point-five of those things are not necessarily things that the original shiro actually believes. i love this discrepancy between writing the two: there's one who buys into his own mythology of being a hero, and there's one who just wants everyone to survive and be happy and safe. in an ideal world (note: ideal to nobody but me), project kuron would be a thing where they created a perfect clone of shiro with all his memories but accidentally infused it with just enough galra beliefs about strength and the importance of war that it sabotages voltron's mission. that particular shiro doesn't mean to be fucked up, but his beliefs are, and he doesn't realise it until after the fallout of everything he's done hits the team. it's the entire basis for his behavior afterwards. this is one of those character development things that fell into the margins between the tattoo porn and its weird au sequel. i should have written the fic in between, i'm sure it would've been less confusing for everyone who read the goddamn sequence, but honestly, you could not pay me enough to write about keith and shiro's relationship falling apart.

this was never made explicit in the fic itself, though it seems pretty clear to me, but here goes. of the ten photographs, nine are pictures that shiro takes for keith to remember them by. the last is one that keith takes for shiro.

Lessons learned about writing in 2017:

when in doubt during edits, read the paragraph out loud. you don't have to do it very loudly, but people respond to something that flows off the tongue even if they aren't actually reading it out to themselves.

you're a niche writer. you write for you. that means you don't really have to edit if you're tired.

deadlines are bullshit. don't sign up for any more events featuring those.

with the way i write, there's always an element of mistrust. in my shorter fics, people are breaking up because they can't trust each other, or they're teetering on the brink of getting together -- but. in my longer fics, i really, really love to throw an unexplained element of mistrust into the mix (see: the fic where shiro leaves his own dimension and refuses to go back without any explanation) and only 'reveal 'it at the end. mistrust is an easy shortcut to tension. it's a good way to reframe the story, but it's also ... hm. predictable if it's literally all you write? i like to think that i'm capable of writing plots whose value isn't entirely based on the way they're told. i just need to let the story breathe once in a while.

the comma before 'too' is grammatically incorrect when that's the end of the sentence. my entire life is a goddamn lie.

there's such a thing as overdetail. a loose sketch and a twinkle of atmosphere will do better than three dense paragraphs detailing exactly where all the cathedrals are. my god, i never want to leave this continent again.

the best writing feeling is posting something and then tweaking all the small mistakes out of it. the second-best writing feeling is bringing someone you like a freshly-killed (read: edited) piece of prose, then demanding pets and cuddling for your great act of magnimity and courage.

looking back on my life, i should have been born a cat.

Fic-writing goals for 2018

post/finish all 80k of my existing drafts, THEN LEAVE VOLTRON FOREVER, I'M SO DARKLY EXCITED ABOUT THIS EXODUS.

seriously, write for any fandom but voltron. oh my god.

maybe i can just dive headfirst into ocean's eight and write a lot of bantery f/f until everyone forgets my embarrassing gay robolion phase.

a sci-fi au for nirvana in fire, heavily influenced by recent military scifi, in which (contrary to all the imperial death traditions) the chiyan army's memories and consciousness are ostensibly deleted from the imperial archives as punishment for their betrayal. several years down the line, jingyan finds his political influence rising with the advice of a helpful and very insistent ai advisor. IT'S TOO COMPLICATED AND I'M STILL THINKING ABOUT IT.

did you know that the natori/matoba section on ao3 has no explicit fic at all? like, zero. 2018 goals, baby. i don't care that nobody needs to know what horrible things they'd do to each other in bed. i'm gonna be this ship's rule 34, or the arsonist who burns down the house of the person who gets to it before me.