#but I do appreciate it a lot. they’ve been going out for dinner together about every other week (on payday lol) and they keep inviting me

[fortes-fortuna-iogurtum]

shout-out to my extremely traditional 72 year old coworker who told me yesterday that she thinks I am trying to grow up too fast and need to lighten up some (and possibly get a boyfriend but she wasn’t really clear on that) and also that she enjoys rap music

[mouthfullofmunson]

After work

Summary: Eddie has another late night at work and needs to unwind. Some cute domestic fluffiness with lots of smut ❤️‍🔥

The apartment is dark with a light flown from the television static that’s been on for the past hour and a half.

The door finally cracks open after being sealed shut all day, the hinges hissing almost like they are relieved to finally stretch. The smack of boots on the floor introduced a new sound in the apartment other than static rolling and stove burners hissing from pasta boiling over. “Hey,” Eddie half whispers, his body achy and sore from being bent over tattooing all day.

“Hi baby.” Y/n gives a sleepy smile to her boyfriend. No matter how many times he’s told her not to wait up on late nights she always does anyways. “Dinner is done.” He gives her a small smile, tucking his boots under the little bench at the entrance before rubbing the kinks out of his neck. “Sounds perfect, thank you sweetheart.” He creeps over to Y/n, wrapping his arms around her waist and sitting his head on her shoulder. He inhales her scent, appreciating the soft power smell coming from her skin. She smells like home.

“TV is out again.” She mentions while rubbing his back. He nods, letting out a sigh before pulling away from her. “I’m going to shower, I’ll be back.” He slaps the top of the television as he walks back to their shower, a random film coming on and filling the room with a better background noise than what was previously on. “I’ll be here.” She softly calls from the kitchen, waiting to hear the water fall from the shower head.

Fifteen minutes later Eddie walks into the room, a gray towel wrapped around his waist as his long hair drips down onto the floor. “How was your shower?” He wraps his arms around her waist from behind, his skin still warm from the undoubtedly scalding hot shower water. “Relaxing.” He presses a kiss to the skin of her neck, trailing them down her arm while she tries to fold clothes.

“Yeah?” He nods, threading his fingers with hers as he pulls her around to his front. He gives a quick nod before pressing his lips to hers. He basks in the sweet warmth of her mouth on his, how delicately she kisses him like he might just break. Eddie can't help but softly laugh in her mouth at the thought. “What?” he pulls back with a tiny smirk on his face. “Nothing, sweetheart.” his hands fall to her hips where her shirt ends, his thumbs pushing it up.

“What about dinner?” Y/n asks, her arms wrapping around his neck.

“My dinner is right here” he softly jokes, pulling her shirt over her head to reveal her soft bare skin under it. The smile doesn’t leave his face, his cold hand coming to her warm breasts, his thumbs rubbing against the sensitive buds. “My pretty girl, huh? You’re so gorgeous.” Y/n’s cheeks heat up, avoiding eye contact. No matter how long they’ve been together she never gets less shy; his words always have the same effect on her.

He leads her closer to the bed, dropping his towel and laying back on the bed before he pats his thighs.

They softly laugh as they both struggle to pull down her panties, hushed whispers about how it would’ve been smarter to do it before they got on the bed.

Y/n straddles his waist, her heat hovering above him. Eddie’s hand slips down, checking if she’s wet before he slides his fingers inside of her carefully, softly grinding his palm into her clit. He watches her face, paying attention to how she reacts, her breath hitching, her chests rapidly rising and falling, her eyes blinking hard to try to stay open. He pulls his fingers out of her, sliding them into his mouth to taste her. “Tastes sweeter than ever, baby.” His hand comes back up, brushing her cheek before his thumb softly pulls at her bottom lip.

“Why don’t you put me inside? I know you want it.” She works slowly, her hand wrapping around his pink cock and pumping him a few times before lining him up and sinking down onto his big cock.

She whimpers, her mouth falling open at the feeling of him throbbing inside of her. “Fuck, sweetheart. You know how to ride me so well.” His thumb rubs her clit, making her shudder. She bounces on his cock, clenching around her. He sits up, filling her even more while making her gasp, a sob of pleasure leaving her lips. Y/n grips at his shoulder, using Eddie to balance herself. He slides his tongue inside her mouth, their tongue dancing together, Eddie swallowing down all of her moans.

“Youre so fucking wet. I can feel you dripping down me, pretty girl.” He laughs into her mouth, thrusting up into her to get her to moan his name again. His kisses fall to her chest, pressing them randomly until he gets to her nipples. His tongue teases the sensitive skin, teeth softly grazing the buds then slipping one into his mouth. He sucks at her nipple while his hand is still occupied on her clit.

“Eddie” her voice shakes, breathless as his dick hits her g-spot over and over again. “I know” he smiles, just as out of breath as she is.

His head falls back, groaning at the feeling as she picks up pace. “Keep going, sweetheart. I want to fill you up. You know just what to do, fuck.”

She grabs his arm tighter, squelching filling the rooms as she sloppily fucks him.”I’m getting close, Eddie.” she chants a mantra of his name the closer she gets.

They both moan out each other's names, Eddie's hot cum filling her pussy up. Once they calm down he gently pulls himself out of her, letting her flop back on her side of the bed.

Eddie looks over at her, a matching sleepy smile painted on both of their faces. “I love you.” Y/n kisses his hand that pushes her hair out of her face. “I love you too, Ed”

He groans like an old man as he lifts up from his spot, hovering from his spot before he sinks between her legs, admiring his milky cum that leaks from her pretty cunt. “I'll clean you up then it's lights out for me.” he swings her thighs over his shoulders, getting to work.

Sorry about the crappy ending :( I’m excited to get something out again tho! I’m actively working on other things as well and constantly have stuff In my drafts that I add onto all the time so expect that stuff too! Let me know your thoughts!!

:)

[lunarrumor]

random valgrace headcanons

- leo cooks for jason all the time because he likes it (it reminds him of his mom and when she taught him how to make his favorite dishes) and his love language is most definitely gift giving because he’s not so good with words

- but one day leo was up all night working on some new machine (again) and jason decides he wants to give him a break so he tries to make some simple pasta. butttt they didn’t really have cooking lessons at camp jupiter and the water overflows and he burns the sauce and when leo gets back jason’s hair is mysteriously red and the kitchen looks like something exploded (it did. the sauce bubbled up and went everywhere)

- however they go camping together once and leo makes a fire and by the time he gets back from going to use the restroom jason has caught a wild bird and is frying it up

- leo makes jason random little trinkets all the time

- when leo and jason are having meals with the seven + reyna and nico they’ll tap messages to each other back and forth in morse code until annabeth gets annoyed by all the banging

- leo loves horror movies and jason hate hate hates them

- when jason gets drunk he likes using a lot of big words except he’s too drunk to use them correctly so he just hopes no one notices (leo does but doesn’t mention it…. without fail he’ll look at him and go “how r u so smart even when so drunk” and jason will give him a dopey smile)

- they go to college in new rome together and visit piper at her mortal school all the time

- they also got an apartment together because yeaa it might be moving fast but they totally didn’t move in together because they’re soulmates or whatever. naaaa it would js be silly not to right ? they shouldn’t *both* be paying rent when they’re gonna be at the same place *anywayss* and jason doesn’t cook and leo doesn’t clean so really it’s just a responsible roommate setup rigggght (aka the lie they tell themselves bc they really js wanna have the security of seeing each other everyday and live a wholesome life where they don’t have to worry if the next time they visit the other they’re not gonna be there anymore)

- but they’re both still worried to ruin the relationship because it’s so new and they’ve been pining for so long so they get separate rooms. except leo is always crawling into jason’s bed at night or jason is playing a movie in leo’s while he works (leo’s barely paying attention but jason likes doing it so he can sneak him snacks because leo has a habit of forgetting to eat while working. and every so often leo will make a goofy joke about the movie n he gets so amazed by how smart n funny leo is. n leo likes the background noise and jason’s little snorts when a character is being dumb. and mostly he just likes his presence. how they can just sit in silence together and without leo having to say anything jason will know how much he cares. how much he appreciates jason caring about him)

- and eventually leo just stops going back to his room, unless he’s working on something, because he likes the smell of jason and waking up with him and bothering him while he does schoolwork. his things slowly start appearing in jason’s room until he’s basically moved in and one day he comes home to jason rummaging through his drawers and he’s like uhh ??? and jason’s like ah rats i was gna surprise you….. i cleared out my closet and got a dresser so that you don’t have to keep going back and forth and i can totally put it back if u don’t want that i just thought maybe you might want to because you haven’t rlly slept here in so long anyway and…. and leo kisses him n grabs the pile of clothes and carries it off to *their* room. and so leo’s old room becomes his new work space

- on this same vein leo will get so distracted while he’s working on a new project that he’ll forgot all about time and sometimes he’s doing this n jason comes in and tells him the time and he drops everything and makes dinner bc his stomach grumbling is fine but when he realizes jason probably hasn’t had a real meal since the last time he cooked now *thats* motivation

- of course jason doesn’t always need him to cook (in fact leo starts trying to teach him no matter how disastrous it is at first. i guess multitasking in battle doesn’t equate to handling the chaos of a kitchen ? but jason actually gets pretty good as long as he’s looking at a list of instructions) but leo just likes all the compliments he gets from jason about his food and how he’ll sit with him in the kitchen and come up behind him with his hands on his waist (jason gets really excited whenever leo asks him to do something like bring him some seasoning or a ladle because he likes being helpful)

- jason also started picking up food after his morning class and bringing leo breakfast because he is *not* a morning person. he’ll also order food when leo’s been cooped up in his room for some time and he knows he wants to keep working so jason brings his lil surprise in along with his laptop and they eat together (with jason making sure leo takes a bite every now n then and eats enough before it gets cold)

- jason wakes up at 6 am everyday to go to the gym, shower, and go to classes meanwhile leo doesn’t have class till 1 and even then he’s late sometimes. because as u could assume leo stays up late at night and jason has trouble staying up past midnight (he always falls asleep during their movie nights even though he tries his very hardest not to but leo is so toasty he just can’t help it. and leo always tucks him in and takes off his glasses)

- also neither of them like waking up alone on the couch in the middle of the night (which is fine when leo falls asleep first, jason just picks him up and carries him to bed. but leo isn’t exactly built for dragging 6 ft men across an apartment floor) so they get a pullout sofa for this exact reason (not a bed pullout couch. he would still have to lift jason off and jason is a heavyy sleeper. he had to sleep through a lot of chaos at camp jupiter. they get one of those couches that extends into more couch and pile a bunch of blankets on it for movie nights. and leo makes popcorn with an ungodly amount of butter)

- leo runs warm and when his emotions spike his powers act up so he stress sweats and everytime it happens jason will cool him off with a nice breeze

- on the flip side jason is always cold so he’s always snuggling up to leo (totally the only reason. definitely not that he’s touch starved) and in the winter they’re literally attached at the hip. jason will not let him go no way no how he *will* stand/walk/lay/sit with his arms around leo at all costs (the cost is piper grossing out at their gushiness)

- jason’s bear hugs are leo’s favorite things in the world he could stay wrapped in those arms forever

- jason and leo live in the same apartment complex as frank and hazel and they become a lot closer

- percy and annabeth live down the hall and leo loves to ding dong ditch them

- annabeth randomly knocks on their door sometimes because she wants leo’s help figuring out the logistics for an architectural project of hers and jason will follow so he can play video games with percy (yeah i said it, percy and leo teach him how to play and he likes it more than he thought he would)

- every week they all get lunch together with reyna, piper, and nico

- nico comes over at first to hang out with jason but he still finds leo…. odd but eventually they bond over their love for horror movies and laughing at jason

- leo loves to sketch when he gets bored in class and he’ll be spacing out drawing until he realizes that his whole page is full of jason’s face from every possible angle

- leo fell first but jason said i love you first (after a lot of coaching from piper)

[encantobrainrot365]

So I just had an interesting revelation after an exchange of comments with a writer on ao3. Cause I think I finally figured out ✨Dolores✨

I realized that she and Mirabel are pretty similar people. And while some aspects of their lives and circumstances parallel one another, they don’t have quite enough in common to be all that close.

Mainly, their family is the glue that binds them together. So, they love each other, but they don’t know each other very well, or spend a whole lot of time together.

As they pointed out, Dolores doesn’t fully respect Mirabel. Not enough to take her seriously. In fact, it’s quite likely that Dolores pities her.

Yeah her cousin is gift-less and different from everyone else, but at least she has hobbies and free time. At least she doesn’t have to deal with any of the stress and drawbacks that comes with having a magical gift. And Dolores, of all people, would know.

Between the disasters she prevents; the secrets she keeps; the damage control she has to do; her mother’s weather; her struggles with her own gift; her crush on Mariano; and caring for her younger brothers, as she is the eldest sibling; on top of all her anxieties, Dolores has far too much on her mind to worry about Mirabel. She just isn’t a priority nor her responsibility. Pretty similar to Alma in that regard.

It’s not a pretty side of Dolores, but it makes her human. It makes her relatable. She is not perfect, no one is, and we shouldn’t expect her to be.

On the other hand, I think Mirabel sympathizes with Dolores but that won’t stop her from trying to butter her prima up and asking her for favors. She doesn’t really know Dolores and I don’t think she trusts Dolores either, at least not yet, (which is honestly, valid). She also might not see her as a role model, not the way she does for every other woman in their family.

This is made evident in “Waiting on a Miracle,” and “The Family Madrigal” where she expounds upon and sings everyone’s praises but Dolores’s. I don’t think Mirabel knows what Dolores does other than ‘she can hear everything we’re saying.’ We, as the audience have to guess, to infer what Dolores’s role in the community is. Dolores just isn’t someone on Mirabel’s radar.

Again, this is a character flaw for Mirabel; a blind spot that makes her all the more relatable to us. She’s not immune to taking people for granted or overlooking their hard work.

However, even though they’re not close to each other they don’t go out of their way to hurt one another the way Isa and Mirabel do.

Both of them care very deeply about their family and would do anything in their power to make them proud, protect them & make them happy. This is why Mirabel helps Antonio to his door. This is why Dolores goes out of her way to speak up, unprompted, for the first time, to share her honest thoughts and opinions about Bruno.

Someone that she empathizes with. Someone she loves so much, she kept the fact that he was hiding in the walls a secret for ten years! If you consider all of this together, it’s no wonder she blabbed at dinner.

Despite how wrong it was she was operating from a place of stress and anxiety, not malice (like some would assume).

I think during reconstruction for Casita, and without the magic hanging over them, Dolores and Mirabel finally find that report they’ve been missing out on.

The whole family is relearning how to respect one another and truly understand their needs and personal boundaries. To be more proactive in showing how much they love and appreciate one another, instead of leaving things unsaid. They spend more time together actually bonding and listening to one another.

Building a relationship they didn’t know was missing for the past ten years. Just like Mirabel and her sisters. Or Alma and her children and grandchildren. How beautiful is that?

[another-lost-mc]

Hnnng been having Karasu thoughts. What would happen if for some reason Karasu thought MC was cheating but in fact they were planning some sort of surprise for him? Can you imagine his immense guilt when he realized he doubted them for nothing!?! Ugh I love angst-but-not-really scenarios

a/n: keeping this light on the angst because I don't like tormenting our dear crow boy too much. :(

suspicious surprises | karasu x reader

1.1k words | sfw | gn!reader | misunderstandings and resolved angst

cw: they/them pronouns for mc.

Mammon knows Karasu better than anyone else in the Devildom. He knows what Karasu's voice sounds like when he’s frustrated, knows what his eyes look like when they glint dangerously with anger he tries to hide. More often than not these days, Karasu looks happier than Mammon can remember, and they've known each other for a long time. Maybe that’s why he’s confused by the way Karasu looks now, pacing back and forth in Mammon’s room while he pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. 

“What d’ya mean, MC’s been acting weird?” Mammon leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “They seem fine t’me.”

Karasu shook his head. “No, there’s something going on. They were on the phone with someone earlier and hung up quickly when I walked into the room. I asked them about it and they said it was nothing,” Karasu explained, glancing at Mammon, “but you and I both know they’re not a very good liar.”

“Can’t you just, I dunno, look up that stuff at work? Their phone logs and whatever else, y’know, see who they were talkin’ to?” It was an innocent suggestion, but Mammon didn’t expect Karasu to glare at him like the idea was offensive.

“I would never abuse my position to violate their privacy like that.” The frown on Karasu’s face deepened. “I can’t do that. It wouldn’t be right.”

“Okay, okay,” Mammon raised his hands placatingly. “Well, what else has been buggin’ you? Because one phone call ain’t enough reason to make you–” he paused, waving his hand in Karasu’s direction, “–y’know, like this.”

“They’ve been spending a lot of time with Asmodeus–alone,” Karasu added, annoyance creeping into his tone. “I know MC and your family are very close, but the secretive phone calls? Hushed conversations? And their little–their little dates,” he nearly spat the word between gritted teeth.

“Dates?” All of Karasu’s suspicions started to fall into place, and Mammon nearly groaned when he realized what all the mixed signals meant. “Nope, no way,” he said hastily, shaking his head. “Asmo’s a flirt but trust me, he’s not makin’ any moves on MC.” Mammon rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly because he knew exactly what you and his brother were up to. 

Karasu looked unconvinced and continued pacing, listing off all the clues that led him to believe something was going on.  

“Well, a few nights ago they went to The Fall together–” (to sign a contract to reserve one of the VIP lounges)

“–and yesterday they went out for dinner–” (after they finalized the menu for the dinner Ristorante Six will be catering)

“–and now they’re out shopping.” (so Asmo could take you to pick up the custom gift you ordered with his help)

Karasu dropped onto the couch beside Mammon and ran his fingers through his hair. “What am I supposed to think? They’re spending so much time together all of a sudden. Every time I mention it, MC looks guilty like they’re hiding something from me.” His glasses slid off his nose when he looked down and they clattered on the floor. He ignored them and buried his face in his hands instead. “What could be bad enough that they feel like they can’t tell me?”

Mammon rubbed his back, albeit a little awkwardly; he wasn’t sure the gesture was appreciated. “I can promise ya that whatever yer thinkin’, you’ve got the wrong idea. Did it ever occur to you that maybe MC’s keepin’ secrets from you for a reason?”

The crow demon looked up in confusion. “Is there such a thing as a good secret that MC would keep from me?”

Mammon sighed. One of the smartest demons in the Devildom and he’s so clueless, ain’t he? “Let me ask ya this, then: you got anything special comin’ up?”

Karasu pulled out his D.D.D. and Mammon snorted when he started scrolling through the calendar app to check his schedule for the week. “Only some work-related meetings, nothing out of the ordinary.” He tapped the screen a couple times quickly and squinted at something. “Oh, and MC mentioned something about doing something on Saturday for…for…”

Mammon smirked knowingly. “What’s that about Saturday?”

Karasu set his D.D.D. beside him and slumped back against the couch. “They’re planning something for my birthday, aren’t they?” he asked flatly, even though he already knew the answer. It was so obvious now.

“Of course they are,” Mammon snickered. “The first birthday you’re celebrating together since you two started goin’ out, yeah? MC’s lookin’ to spoil ya, you lucky bird. Asmo offered to help MC plan the whole thing since he has lots of useful connections in town. Don’t tell ‘em I ruined the surprise though, MC will kill me. ”

“You really think MC would go to all this trouble to surprise me?” Karasu asked. Mammon expected him to be relieved, but he just sounded sad. He stared in front of him, eyes unfocused, unblinking. “I was afraid…well, I was worried about a lot of things, I suppose,” he admitted, lowering his eyes while his hands fidgeted nervously in his lap. “But I didn’t know how to tell them that.”

Mammon nudged his shoulder lightly. “You haven’t done this sort of thing in a long time, right? How long’s it been since you were with someone anyway? Five years? Six?”

“Double that at least,” Karasu said, sniffling his nose.

No wonder he was so lost. “See? This relationship stuff is all new for you. It makes you feel vulnerable and out of control, and I know you’re not used to that.” Mammon leaned back with a sigh. “And trust me, my brothers and I know a thing or two about bein’ jealous and possessive and all that. It’s sort of our reputation ‘round here.”

“I didn’t really think MC would–you know, hurt me intentionally,” Karasu explained slowly. “But you’re right. I let my anxieties get the better of me. I’ll learn from this and be better for them.” He looked at Mammon worriedly. “You won’t tell them, will you?”

“It’ll be our little secret,” Mammon said, drawing his fingers across his lips with an exaggerated ziiiip. “But I’m serious, you got lucky with MC. You’re good for each other.” Mammon watched the bashful smile bloom on his friend’s face, his eyes brightening slightly with something hopeful.

“You really think so?” Karasu asked wonderingly.

Mammon nodded. “Wouldn’t have let it get this far between ya if I thought otherwise.”

A quiet giggle bubbled out of Karasu before he bit his lip to stifle the sound. “I think I’m going to enjoy my birthday this year for the first time in a long time,” he admitted softly. The grin on his face was contagious, and all Mammon saw was a hopelessly besotted crow oozing with affection.

Karasu might not realize it, but Mammon’s seen MC with the same expression on their face and he knows who it is they’re thinkin’ of when they do. “Yeah, I think so too.”

read more: karasu masterlist | obey me masterlist

[thebluestbluewords]

mother knows best

They meet the heroes of their parent’s stories. 

It’s not as bad as Evie has been anticipating. 

Here’s the thing about being friends with the king: it provides a lot more than just friendship. Diplomatic immunity isn’t quite the word Evie would use to describe their new status, but there’s a sort of leeway that they get with adults now that Ben has shown that he’s willing to vouch for them, and none of the powerful, important, interesting families who need something from the young king would risk being too blatantly rude to his friends. 

So. They meet the heroes from their parent’s stories, and it goes fine. 

+

Evie smiles politely at Snow, who is technically her sister. In another world, they might have grown up together. Might have been friends, or at least acquaintances, trapped together in the same castles, avoiding the same woman together. 

Or not. 

“I read your latest piece in the historical fashion journal,” Evie says politely, over the dinner that has been arranged by her sister, so that they can meet one another in a common space with the least potential for problems to arise. It’s a nice restaurant, the sort that has tiny candles in fancy glass dishes on the table, and a separate menu just for wines. It’s nice enough that Evie is glad she wore her navy blue kitten heels, even though her feet are going to be aching where they’re tight on her heels later. “It was very well-written. I especially enjoyed the section on beadwork in the western kingdoms.” 

Snow offers a faint smile. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” 

Evie sits perfectly still. She’s been trained by her mother on how to be polite and unobtrusive during a formal dinner, and how to be sweet and desirable for a prince during a dinner date, but meeting her sister for their first real chance at getting to know each other isn’t quite either of those things, and she’s not sure how to proceed properly, aside from attempting more polite flattery and small talk. 

It’s not polite to fidget with her utensils, no matter how much Evie would like something to do with her hands. Maybe she can sip her water, once it arrives. She’ll sip carefully, without messing up her lipstick. 

“Your hair looks lovely,” Snow says, unexpectedly. “Blue suits you.” 

Evie does not jump. 

“Thank you,” she says instead, and keeps her hands out of her hair, which is indeed lovely. “It’s my natural color.” 

Snow nods. “I remember. Grimhilde’s is the same way.”

Evie hasn’t seen her mother’s natural hair since she was a child. They’ve been careful to keep her pretty and perfect, just in case an unexpected chance with a royal family ever came up, even though she’s been doubly in exile for most of her teenage years. They put countless hours (approximately 20,344 hours, Evie’s brain supplies unhelpfully) into keeping her looking beautiful. More than that, if she counts the time spent brewing potions and sewing pretty dresses and educating herself in speech and literature and music and scheming, all so she could play the part of an Auradon Princess and eventually secure them a future off the isle they’d been cursed to live on. 

So much time spent on Evie meant that there was less time left for Grimhilde, and instead of maintaining two heads of thick, wavy blue hair on a desolate island with limited hair products, her mother tied all of hers back under a thick, fashionable hood, and never let her daughter catch a glimpse of it aside from the very end of her braid when she pulled it out to trim. 

Based on the glimpses, Evie would have sworn that her mother had darker hair than Evie herself does, closer to black than blue. It’s fascinating and nauseating all at the same time to think that maybe Evie looks like her, under the makeup and the spells and the enchantments designed to work without true magic, to keep her ageless and unwrinkled and beautiful despite the passage of time over the island. 

Evie loves her mother. 

Except for when she hates her, but that’s the nature of family, or so she’s been told. 

She doesn’t— 

It’s hard to know what family is supposed to be like when her only examples to follow are her mother, and the women in front of her. 

“Thank you,” Evie says, and does not let her voice waver. “I’ve been told—well, I haven’t exactly been told that I look like her, but that’s because there’s not exactly a lot of people on the island who know what she used to look like.” 

Snow White smiles, and her lips are as red as cherries, and her teeth are as white as snow, and her hair, when she brushes a loose strand back, is as dark and velvety as the night sky. “I don’t know either. She wasn’t very sentimental, I’m afraid. I spent most of my own childhood steering clear of her schemes to marry me off to the most advantageous bachelor. It didn’t leave me much time for staring at photographs of a stepmother that I begged my father not to marry. I assume you did much the same?” 

Evie’s mother loves her. 

“Not exactly.” Evie says, around lips that feel strange and numb. “She loved me.” 

Evie’s mother loved her, and so she spent hours upon countless hours shaping her daughter into someone who could be loved in return. Someone who could be a mirror and reflect that love back on a man who could save them. 

Evie also, critically, didn’t have anywhere to go outside of the castle that they shared. So there’s that. She couldn’t have steered clear, even if she’d wanted to. 

“I’m surprised to hear that,” Snow says softly. “She was always such a strong personality. I didn’t think she’d be able to love a child the way she loved herself, but I suppose it’s different when it’s your own child.” 

“I suppose so.” Evie agrees, because that’s one of the lessons her mother ingrained in her bones. Be polite, be proper, and don’t disagree with the adults, even if they’re wrong. 

“Not that it’s your fault, of course. It’s not your fault that she loved you,” Snow says. It’s never Evie’s fault, because Evie is wicked and unlovable and only a villain like her mother could ever manage to care for her. 

“It’s just, I’m surprised,” Evie’s stepsister continues. She’s watching Evie’s face and it’s too much, except for how there’s no other choice. There’s nothing to do but endure the endless beautiful stare of her stepsister’s shiny, beautiful eyes. “I didn’t think she was capable of love, not after what she did to me. I’m glad that she was able to care for you, after everything.”

Evie’s mouth is dry. 

She’s been trained in speech since she was a child, the delusions of a mother convinced that her daughter would one day need to address a crowd of adoring subjects. She’s on the debate team now, and even when her arguments are weak, she can deliver them with such elegant phrasing that she sometimes wins anyway. 

She has seen more blood than this woman in front of her will ever see, and she has survived her mother for sixteen years, and come out the other side alive. 

She will not cower. 

“Mother loved me.” Evie says, slowly. Slow and steady. Flawless Auradon diction, which she can emulate perfectly thanks to years of lessons under her mother’s less-than-gentle hand, instead of the muddier Isle accent that she hides. “I’m very sorry that she hurt you, but I am not her, and I’m not her to discuss her tonight. If she is all that you’re interested in talking about, it would be a better use of both of our time to attend dinner elsewhere. Separately.” 

“Evie, no,” Snow begins, reaching out over the table. Her nails, Evie notices, are perfectly polished into natural almond shapes, and she’s wearing a slightly glossy peach polish. “No. I’m sorry. I want you to stay, really.” 

Evie does not want to touch this woman’s hands. 

“I should probably go home.” Evie demurs. “I have a lot of homework, and I really can’t afford to make a mistake on my next paper.” 

“You could come home with me!” Snow offers, letting her hands sink back to the table. “I have a lovely library, and my husband, he’s a wonderful writer. He could help you with your assignment, and maybe somewhere more casual—“ 

Evie gives in to the urge to fix her hair, and brushes one of her trailing curls out of her face. “I don’t know what you want, but if it’s to hear about my mom, I can’t do that.” 

“I want to meet you.” her stepsister lies. “The real you, not just the person you put on for the cameras. Please do stay. Come home with me.” 

“I can’t,” Evie says, and it might be the most honest she’s been all night. “I really can’t.” 

Snow White is lovely to a fault, and her dark eyes are shiny when she looks up at her stepsister. “You can.” 

She can’t.

There’s too many memories that she’s not willing to touch here, in a nice restaurant with a sister she’s met one time. She’s got a paper to start working on when she gets home, and her schedule (written in blue ink on the first section of her daily planner, which is thick and smells only the faintest bit like mildew) only accounted for this dinner meeting taking two hours, and it’s at least thirty minutes back to Charmingdale, there and back again is more like an hour, and that’s if they spend no time eating, and while Evie could certainly afford to skip one meal, it’s not polite to say that in front of company who’s been so generous this far, and Snow didn’t just offer dinner, she offered help, which will only put her more behind schedule when she’ll have to redo the work later. 

“I’m so sorry,” Evie says calmly, placing her hands back on her lap, away from her face and her hair and everything she’s inching to check. A princess doesn’t adjust her hair in polite company, and she might be a disgraced daughter of a queen-in-exile here in Auradon, but back home Evie was a princess, and she’s going to act as such. “I really do have a lot of homework tonight. It’s a very kind offer to bring me back to your castle, but if we’re not going to eat here I need to get back to school.” 

[suddencolds]

Fool Me Twice [5/?]

Hello, remember this series? This chapter took me like six months to write. It was very embarrassing opening up the google doc again to see that the last edit was in April (back when I rewrote this chapter from scratch five times over before giving up entirely.) Anyways, I need to post it before I lose my nerve. 😭

Part 5 ft. fake dating, a cold, and an intervention

You can read part 1 [here]! (No context is needed aside from the previous 4 parts).

—

The drive to Good Day Diner is uneventful. Francesca recommended it to him awhile back, when they were both still in college, and he’s been trying to puzzle out their recipes ever since. Though, even with the ones where he’s come close, he rarely has the time to make them properly, in between work and everything else, so he’s been back here a few times since then.

Yves picks up two pint-sized containers worth of soup—chicken farro and miso with ginger—and strikes up a conversation with the cashier while he waits.

“This isn’t your usual order,” she says.

“Yeah,” Yves says. “It’s for a friend.”

“They’re a fan of miso?” Yves considers this. They’ve gone to more than a couple work outings together, and though Yves hasn’t paid particularly close attention to what everyone else has ordered, he thinks he remembers Vincent getting miso salmon on one occasion, a few weeks back. “I’m not sure,” he says. “I hope so.”

“Your friend didn’t tell you their order?”

“He doesn’t know I’m getting dinner for him. I just happened to be passing by, so I thought I might as well.” That part’s not entirely true—the restaurant is a twenty minute drive from the office, and it’s not really on the way home, either.

“So it’s a surprise,” the girl says, leaning back with a smile that looks a little too knowing for Yves’s liking. Whatever she thinks she’s figured out, he’s sure she has the wrong idea. “That’s awfully nice of you.”

“It’s not like that,” Yves says. “We aren’t that close. I’m not even sure if he’ll be happy to see me.”

“Why’s that?”

“He’s done a lot for me, and I think—” I think I might’ve repaid him in the most ungrateful way possible, his mind supplies unhelpfully. “I think all I’ve done, in return, is cause him trouble.”

The girl finishes ladling soup into the containers and reaches over the counter for two caps. “Usually when people do a lot for you, that means they like you.” 

“Or it means they’re just really nice,” Yves says. “I think that’s closer to it.”

“So you’re getting him soup because you feel indebted to him?” She sets the soup containers carefully into a brown paper bag, slips in two plastic sleeves worth of utensils, then slides it towards him.

“Something like that,” Yves says, taking the bag from her. “Thanks, I’ll let you know how it goes the next time I’m back. Have a good one!” 

“You too,” she says. “I hope your friend appreciates it.”

It’s not as nice as treating Vincent to dinner, but maybe what Vincent needs right now is convenience, not luxury. if he’s already made up his mind about working late, then at least he can work late with dinner on the side. Yves doesn’t even have to talk to him, really. He can just leave the soup on Vincent’s desk with a note, as unobtrusively as possible, and then take his leave again.

The drive back is shorter than expected. Yves turns on the radio, if only to not be left with just his thoughts, and listens to the newscaster talk about traffic, and the weather, and a local festival that’s going to be held on friday. When he puts the car into park and pulls the keys out from the ignition, the silence that follows is not reassuring in the least.

He pockets his keys and heads up the stairs, into the office building, and takes the elevator up to the fifth floor. The office is well-lit, even this late at night—it gives the impression of it being perpetually daytime, even though the clock on the wall says otherwise. 

He takes a post-it note off of Cara’s desk, scrawls on: Figured you wouldn’t have time to get dinner, so I got you soup, and signs it: -Y. He sticks the note onto the paper bag, regards it for a moment, and then—after reconsidering—staples it on, just in case. 

Then he heads off—past rows and rows of desks, around the corner and through the hallway, past the break room, to stop at the doorway which overlooks the room where Vincent sits.

Vincent is still at his desk, paging through documents with one hand, scrolling through what looks to be a long list of email correspondences with the other. From this distance, it’s hard to tell that anything is off, except— 

He looks exhausted. It’s subtle, but once Yves notices it, he can’t stop noticing it. It’s present in the way Vincent holds himself, as if the wiry frame of the office chair is the only thing keeping him properly upright. It’s in the way he blinks hard at his monitor, his eyebrows furrowed slightly, as if he’s been staring at it for hours.

There’s a mug of what looks to be black coffee on his desk, half empty but still steaming, which seems to imply that he plans on staying much later. Yves clears his throat.

“Still working hard?” he says. 

Vincent’s gaze snaps up to where Yves is standing. “Yves,” he says. “I thought you left.”

“I did.”

“Did you forget something here?” Vincent dog-ears the page he’s flipped to, then sets the stack of papers off to the side. “I can help you look.”

“No,” Yves says. “Well, not exactly. I know you said you didn’t want to be bothered. I promise I’ll be out of here soon.”

“Okay,” Vincent says, expectantly.

“Have you eaten?”

“I ate,” Vincent says. The relief Yves feels, at that statement, is unfortunately short-lasted. “Lunch. A few hours ago.”

“Lunch was eight hours ago.”

“I’ll eat tomorrow.”

“Will you catch up on sleep tomorrow too?”

“If I manage to finish this by then,” Vincent says, “Then yes.”

Yves stares at him. Does Vincent really, truly think there’s nothing wrong with any of this? With whatever sleepless, miserable late-night work session he’s already seemingly resigned himself to? “So what? You’re going to crash on the couch here?”

“I’ll head home around 4,” Vincent says.

4am. “And what? Lay down for fifteen minutes?” 

“Three hours, maybe,” Vincent says, turning aside to muffle a cough into his elbow. “I don’t live that far.”

He says all of this in earnest, as though none of it strikes him as even the slightest bit unreasonable. Yves can’t help it—he doesn’t think he could hide the incredulity in his voice even if he tried. “You have to be kidding me.”

Finally, Vincent’s face shifts to show—something. Something other than the utter blankness from before, something past the civil, perfectly drawn business facade. Yves doesn’t have to look for very long to register it as frustration. “What part of my answer was unclear?”

“None of it is unclear,” Yves says. “It’s just… exceptionally unreasonable.” 

“By some arbitrary metric of yours, sure.”

“Ask anyone else at the office and they’d agree with me.”

“What you—or anyone else at the office—think about my sleep schedule doesn’t concern me.”

“Let me help,” Yves says. “Please. We’ll get it done twice as fast if I help. Or if you really don’t trust me, hand it off to someone you do trust.”

“There’s no need. It’s my work to get done.”

“You should be at home right now, not working overtime on your first day back,” Yves says. He looks over all of it, now—over the desktop computer and the monitor, the charts and graphs laid out on screen, the piles of paperwork currently occupying Vincent’s desk. There’s a pang in his chest that he hadn’t quite accounted for.  “It can’t be pleasant doing all of this with a headache.”

Vincent blinks at him. “What headache?”

“The one you’ve had since before I left.” Vincent can attempt to deny it if he wants. But between Leon, Yves’s younger brother, and Victoire, his younger sister—who’ve caught their fair share of colds throughout the years, between the other members of the crew team he’d spent his 6ams with—who he’s seen frequently tired and occasionally under the weather—Yves thinks he’s well equipped to recognize a headache.

And Vincent looks as put-together as always, for the most part—he looks like he could’ve just walked out of a photoshoot for some classy magazine, his hair neat, his tie done neatly, his suit jacket criminally well-fitted to his shoulders. But Yves doesn’t miss the stiff set of his jaw and the tension strung through his posture, the way he tilts his head ever-so-slightly away from the bright overhead lights as if it hurts to look at them, the way he rubs his eyes or pinches the bridge of his nose, always subtle enough to go unnoticed. The way he holds himself, now, as if it’s taking all of his energy to appear so presentable.

“I don’t,” Vincent starts. “I haven’t—”

“I can tell, you know,” Yves says, a little dejectedly. “I’m pretty sure it’s my fault you have one, anyways.”

Vincent frowns. “Talking to you hasn’t given me a headache.”

“Not that,” Yves says. “But I’d imagine that spending all of New Year’s Eve next to me when I was under the weather might have.”

Yves watches the surprise flicker across Vincent’s face.

“So that’s what this is about?” Vincent says slowly, his eyebrows furrowing. He looks—confused, now, taken aback by Yves’s admission—and then a little sad. “You’re just here because you feel guilty.”

“I do feel guilty,” Yves agrees—that much is true. “But that’s not why I’m here.” he feels hopeless, suddenly, attempting to explain himself to someone who would probably have preferred it if he never bothered. Perhaps he shouldn’t have come. Perhaps it was presumptuous to think that he could help in the first place. “I realize now that I can’t change your mind on any of this. But even if you plan to stay here all night, I— I just thought maybe I could—”

He’s interrupted with a harsh, “hhHh’NGk-t!” which jerks Vincent forward in his seat. Then a soft, wet sniffle, and then another— “Excuse m—Hhh’GKT!”, neatly pinched off into his hands. Vincent’s eyes flutter shut as he cups both his hands over his mouth, his eyebrows drawing together as his shoulders tremble with an inhale: “hih… hiIIh… hI’GKSCHHuuh-! Snf-! hH… HEh’DZSSChhUH!”

It’s immediately followed up with a few harsh, grating coughs which leave Vincent hunched over slightly, his glasses slightly askew, his hands still cupped to his face.

“Bless you,” Yves says, a little stunned. 

Vincent doesn’t say anything to that—he just reaches across the desk for a tissue and blows his nose quietly into it, before he discards the tissue into a small metal trash can under the desk. The tips of his ears look a little red.

His throat probably hurts too, Yves realizes, with a jolt. Yves really shouldn’t be prolonging this conversation if he can help it.

“I, uh, brought soup,” he says awkwardly. The paper bag crinkles slightly as he lifts it. “Just so you wouldn’t have to skip dinner entirely. That’s why I was gone earlier. I initially meant to just drop it off here, not—” he clears his throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to argue with you.”

Vincent is quiet for a moment longer. Then he says, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“What? Bring you dinner?

“You didn’t have to come back at all.”

“I know that,” Yves says. “But I wanted to.”

Vincent takes the bag from him, lifts the post-it note so he can read the few lines Yves has scrawled onto it. He turns aside to muffle a few coughs into his sleeve. “This must have been a lot of trouble.”

“Not more trouble than attending a New Year’s party on someone else’s behalf, that’s for sure,” Yves says. It’s a wonder that Vincent agreed to that arrangement in the first place—Yves doesn’t know how he’ll even begin to make it up to him. “If we’re keeping count, I still owe you.”

Vincent regards him for a moment, his expression unreadable. “I never thought that you owed me.” 

“Okay,” Yves says. “Then I’m doing this on my own accord.”

“What do you possibly have to gain from that?”

Is it not obvious enough? Yves sighs. “Nothing. I care about you.”

Carefully, slowly, Vincent opens the bag, shifts his documents over to the other side of the desk, and takes out the two containers of soup. Yves regards them closely—hopefully they’ve still retained most of their warmth, even after the drive here.

“I’m not sure if they’ll be to your taste,” he says, a little sheepishly. “If you tell me what you like, next time I’ll try to keep it in mind.”

“I’m not picky,” Vincent says. He rummages through the paper bag for a spoon. “I think I’d like both of these. Have you eaten already?”

“Not yet,” Yves says. Perhaps he should’ve picked up dinner for himself at Good Day, too—he’d been so preoccupied with getting something for Vincent that he’d forgotten. Either way, it’s inconsequential. There’s probably enough in the fridge to last a day or two before his next grocery run.

“You also got dinner for yourself, right?”

Yves must hesitate for a moment too long. 

“That’s a little hypocritical,” Vincent says. “Do you want to pull up a chair?”

“What?”

“You haven’t eaten. You brought two soups.”

“They were both supposed to be for you.”

“You’re already here.” Vincent says. He shuts his laptop and leaves it off to the side, clears a space on the table, and sets the chicken farro soup in front of Yves. As if it really is that simple.

Yves stares down at it, a little perplexed. I thought you didn’t want to speak to me, he wants to say. 

“Unless you’d just prefer to take this home,” Vincent says, misinterpreting his silence as hesitation. 

“No,” Yves says. “You’re right. I’ll pull up a chair.”

—

Yves ends up dragging over a chair from one of the tables nearby—he makes a mental note to put it back before they leave. Vincent shuts his laptop and leaves it off to the side.

“Now we’re both staying past nine,” Vincent says.

“Yes,” Yves says. “I’ve always wanted to see what this place turns into at night.”

“Does it live up to your expectations?” “It’s a bit of a ghost town,” Yves says. “But not in a bad way. Feels like I could take all the snacks out of the break room and no one would bat an eye.”

“That’s the real reason why I’m here right now,” Vincent says, so deadpan that it barely sounds like a joke. Yves laughs. 

Something about this scene—about sitting with Vincent, here, having dinner on the only corner of his office desk that isn’t occupied by documents—feels a little nostalgic.

“This is just like when I first joined,” he says. “When you were helping me with all the onboarding stuff.” 

Back when he first joined, Vincent’s desk was a frequent destination. It’s not that Vincent is particularly friendly—it’s more just that Vincent is really, really good. He has expertise in things that he’s only done once in his life, and he can spot mistakes at a glance. He’s patient, too, even though Yves thinks that if the roles had been reversed, anyone teaching Vincent anything would never have to exercise any patience at all.

He can’t blame Angelie for looking to Vincent for help, either. It wasn’t that long ago that Yves was the one hovering at his desk, watching Vincent go through relevant work over his shoulder.

“The first couple weeks are - snf-! - always difficult,” Vincent says. “But you picked things up quickly.”

“I can’t imagine you as a beginner at anything,” Yves muses.

“Everyone’s - snf -! - a beginner at s-some— hH-! Just a second—” Vincent turns his head away sharply, burying his nose into his shoulder before— “hh’GKt-! Hh… Hhh’IIZSCchuhH! snf-! Hh-! hhih… HiH’GKT-!... Hh… hHih… hIH’IKTSHhh’uuh!”  

“Bless you,” Yves says reflexively. 

“Thank you,” Vincent says, with a small cough, which he muffles into his sleeve. He sighs. His voice has held up pretty well, but Yves can hear the muted edge of congestion in his voice, softening his consonants. “What was that you said to me? ‘You’ll get tired of that phrase really quickly?’”

“I won’t if you get over this cold soon,” Yves says. “Maybe that’s the real reason why I brought soup.”

“So that’s why you’re being suspiciously nice to me,” Vincent says, with a laugh. “I’m relieved to know you’ve had ulterior motives all along.”

Everything gets easier, after that. Vincent seems to enjoy the soup, for the way his eyes widen, almost imperceptibly, after he takes his first bite. (“So I was right to think you’d like miso,” Yves says, and Vincent laughs and says, “Am I really that predictable?”) When Yves offers again to help, after dinner, Vincent wordlessly hands him a small stack of business proposals. It’s not much, but just the fact that he’s agreeing to let Yves help is already a step in the right direction—give Yves an inch, and he’ll take a mile.

Yves looks through all of the documents he’s handed, scrawling notes in the margins, and then goes through another third of the stack of unreviewed paper on Vincent’s desk, while Vincent scrolls through pages of spreadsheets, processing data and creating new graphs. Vincent is almost frighteningly efficient, even when he’s not feeling his best—they lapse into a comfortable silence, interrupted only by the occasional, near-inaudible hitch in Vincent’s breath, always followed by a wrenching sneeze, or two.

There’s the coughing, too—always muffled tightly into his sleeve, after Vincent turns to face away from him, which must be exhausting. Yves doesn’t know why he bothers. It’s not as though he can catch this cold again.

(“Bless you,” Yves says, after the tenth-or-so sneeze, trying not to let the concern creep into his voice. “I think the pharmacy near 59th is still open. If you want, I can stop by and grab you something for your symptoms.”

“No need,” Vincent says. “If it - hh-! - gets bad enough, I’ll — Hhh-!”

“Bless you again—”

“hihH’IZSCHhhuh! - snf-! - I’ll get something myself.”

Yves wonders what his metric for bad enough is. Then again, it’s probably better not to press.)

It’s nearly eleven before Yves decides to head home at last.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Vincent says, with a rueful sniffle. “You must be tired.” “Not really,” Yves says. “I usually sleep pretty late. If you’re still feeling this bad tomorrow, take the day off.”

“I’ll think about it,” Vincent says. 

Yves sighs. “At the very least, promise me you’ll head home sooner rather than later?”

 “No promises,” Vincent says—though at the disapproving look Yves gives him, he amends, “But I’ll try.”

He sounds like he means it, at the very least. Yves supposes he’ll take what he can get.

[ Part 6 ]

[theladyofdeath]

Better or Worse {Epilogue}

Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

A/N: The end. :) Thank you for reading! We've appreciated all the love and support. I'm hoping to start posting a new project soon. Stay tuned!

~ Cassian ~

“What the hell are you doing?!”

I freeze, blinking, and slowly slide my eyes to where Nesta is standing at the kitchen’s threshold, gaping at me.

“What?”

“You can’t have her that close to the stove! What if she catches on fire?!”

I look down to where Evelyn is strapped to my chest, swaddled in the cotton wrap that leaves only her face popping out, her little cheek squished against my chest. She’s sleeping, snoring softly, and perfectly content.

“Nes.” I give my beautiful wife a look as I desperately try not to roll my eyes. “She’s three weeks old. What’s she going to do? Fling herself into the pot?” Nesta opens her mouth to protest, but I go on. “There’s only one burner on, and it’s on low, and it’s the back burner, and I’m letting it simmer. I’m just giving it a quick stir. I can assure you that no infant will be harmed in the stirring of this sauce that will blow your fucking mind. Calm down.”

As soon as those two little words leave my mouth, I know I fucked up. Backtrack. Rewind. The spoon in my hand stills as I clear my throat, scared to even look in her direction. “And…by ‘calm down’...I mean…I love you.”

She approaches, her footsteps light, and she stops beside me. “Be glad I love you too or I’d be tossing your balls into that pot right about now.” 

Pain. I feel physical pain at those words. Cringing, I set down the spoon and turn to face her. She’s not looking at me at all, but at the little bundle of joy we brought home three weeks ago. Nesta’s eyes are soft as she leans down and presses a soft kiss to Evelyn’s forehead. 

We were instantly in love. From the moment she was given to us, we knew that we were meant to be her parents. It’s hard as hell, raising an infant, and although it’s only been three weeks and I know it’s going to get a hell of a lot harder, I have never felt so fucking blessed. 

“Everyone should be getting here soon,” Nesta says, quietly, eyes meeting mine at last. She reaches up onto her toes and kisses me, softly. 

Rhys, Feyre, Azriel, and Elain were all in the waiting room at the hospital when Evelyn was born, but we haven’t seen them since. They’ve given us space to settle into our new roles, into this new life we’ve built for ourselves. The solitude, although necessary and beautiful, has been driving us a little crazy, though. Two days ago, Nesta came to me in tears, partly out of exhaustion, I’m sure, and told me she needed her sisters.

So tonight, I made dinner. 

Evelyn is in a pretty good routine and will most likely sleep for the rest of the night, only waking up to eat, but she can sleep anywhere. I have no doubt we’ll be passing her around so that everyone can get their baby fix. 

They all arrive together, six on the dot, and we greet each other as if we haven’t been all together in years instead of a matter of weeks. I don’t even care that the food has gone cold by the time we sit around the table, too much time being spent doting over the baby for it to stay warm. 

Even cold, it’s delicious, I must say. We eat and talk and laugh, and tell them all about every little detail of the last three weeks. Nyx is smitten most of all, wanting to sit next to his cousin at all times and hold her hand. He’ll be a fantastic big brother and I can’t help but wonder if Rhys and Feyre will have more kids. I know Rhys wants a house full, but he’s not the one doing the hard work. 

Once we’re full and the table has been cleared, we get comfortable in the living room. Elain is holding Evelyn while Azriel rocks a sleeping Sera. I’m convinced the two of them will be best friends and will most likely raise hell together. 

I can’t wait. But then again, yes I can, because she’s so sweet and innocent in this newborn stage that I don’t want that to change. Then again, I can’t wait to watch her grow, to see all those milestones and watch her grow into her own person. 

“Careful, dad, you’re getting teary-eyed,” Nesta whispers, leaning into me and patting my knee. 

I chuckle and pull her closer. “It’s the lack of sleep.”

Nesta rests her head on my shoulder. “Liar.” 

She’s right. It was a lie. I’m overwhelmed, so overwhelmed with love and contentment. We worked so hard to be where we’re at and although it’s not how we originally imagined, I wouldn’t change a thing. I’d endure every bout of heartache all over again that led us here, to this, to her. 

Nesta.

Evelyn.

I watch as our family loves on our daughter, watch as our little circle becomes whole. I had dreamt of this, we both had for so long. The fact that it’s now reality is unreal. I feel like I’m dreaming and the fact that I’m not, yes…has me on the verge of tears. 

One must slip past my defenses because Nesta reaches up and wipes her thumb across my damp cheek. 

No one comments on my crying and I feel zero shame. There is no shame in being unimaginably happy. 

“Now I have two cousins,” Nyx says from where he’s climbing onto Rhys’ lap. He scrunches his nose. “When will I have boy cousins? Or a brother? There’s too many girls.”

Rhys laughs quietly. “These girls are going to grow up to kick your butt if you keep talking like that. Especially with these two brutes as their fathers.” 

Azriel snorts. “Cass will have Evie lifting weights daily by the time she’s two. She’ll probably be able to kick my butt.” 

Nyx laughs at this, head thrown back, his giggles loud. 

We stay sitting, talking, reminiscing until even Nyx is snoring soundly in his father’s arms. By the time we finally say goodnight, I’m spent. Exhausted. Can hardly keep my eyes open.

But I don’t care.

Sleep is irrelevant when everything has fallen into place, when every time your eyes are open you feel like nothing can go wrong. We’ve already had our heartbreak, have already faced our trials, and although I’m not naive and know that trials will still come…

I know, without a doubt, that everything will be okay. 

I’m sliding into bed as Nesta lays Evelyn in her bassinet next to her side of the bed. I watch as she stares at our daughter, knowing her heart is bursting with pride and love, mirroring my own. I lay down quietly, my eyes remaining on the outline of her frame in the darkness. 

“She’s perfect, Cass,” she whispers, and those damn tears return. 

“Yeah,” I agree, quietly. “She is.”

She climbs into bed and snuggles up close to me, my arms going around her without a thought. We close our eyes, quickly drifting into the four hours of sleep we’ll be getting, at most, before the soft cries of a newborn fills our silent bedroom. 

Sleep is irrelevant.

Our daughter is perfect.

My wife is the love of my life.

And I am whole. 

[mpsansy]

you put me in a casper the friendly ghost hyperfixation and i’ve literally only seen like one movie in my entire life!! /notmad you and your tiktoks got me so interested i had to find your tumblr to get more info!!

anyway i’ve walked out of reading up all of your info for your casper stuff and seen all your art and i would love to see/hear more abt stinkie i think he’s my favourite!

Gosh I don’t know how much more of these kind words I can take (please don’t stop, I’m seriously so happy and appreciative for all the love!!!!)

And not to worry, most people have only seen the 1995 movie. Which honestly, that’s the backbone of my version. The only thing I took out is the love interest… by putting someone else in it (Casper and Wendy). But that ain’t important right now. It’s more like a nice addition later on, like a dessert at a big ol’ dinner. Right now, I’m trying to get to the fine delicacies that is all of Casper’s family members. Which frankly only consist of the following:

Stretch

Stinkie

Fatso

and

Echo (previously known as Elizabeth McFadden, aka: Casper’s mama!)

These four are the main important ones in Casper’s life. And even more so in death. Think I’ve explained how the mother could come back, but I’d have to dig it up. But to paraphrase what I said on it, I wanted the trio to go find her as she calls to them specifically. Saying that she’s not imaginary and that they know her. Wanting only to come home to her family and be with them once again.

And for that reason, they get serious about the whole thing once it clicks. Which to many already feels very strange. They’ve never been the serious type, but hey! That’s the appeal to them. Each one being unpredictable and spontaneous.

Speaking of uncle Stinkie, I have a small thing to share. I’m currently editing a fanfic of mine on Stinkie and Casper, but since you’re here asking. I want to make this known as it’s significant to him. That thing is that he loves the outside, more specifically the bugs that are out and about in nature. Gazing upon them is a thing he and Casper probably enjoy doing together.

Oh! And besides Fatso, Stinkie also plays games with Casper. The games usually consist of: playing catch, racing, and his personal favorite, how far they can spit. Casper has won more times now than poor old Stink here. But that’s okay. The boy’s embracing the beauty of nastiness. Making Stinkie so so proud of his little nephew.

Phew! Apologies, that must be a lot of info. I just can’t help myself.

[forget-you-morelike-fuck-you]

Heartwork- E.M. Pt. 8

You get another call from a long lost friend.

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 9 - Epilogue Masterlist

TW- Cursing, mentions of cheating, a bit angsty, pining

Pairings- Eddie X Reader

Word Count- 1,773

(Gif not mine, credit to owner!)

The next several days are spent lonely. Work and home, that’s it for you, except the dozens of calls to Eddie trying to talk. There’s a lot of worrying, a lot of crying, and a lot of missing Eddie. 

Maybe he didn’t think you wanted to kiss him? Maybe he didn’t really want to kiss you? Maybe it’s something else entirely... You want to know so bad what happened that night, but the only one who can tell you is avoiding you like the plague.  

As a week of not hearing from Eddie approaches, you sit on your couch, staring out your window. Another thing you’ve been doing a lot this week. You don’t know if it’s just to pass the time or if you’re hoping that Eddie spontaneously shows up with an explanation and an apology. Let’s be real, it’s probably the latter.  

Work is a good distraction. You pore over credit statements and numbers day after day, fixing problems and finding better solutions, turning it into a game. Numbers don’t lie. Numbers don’t leave you wondering what you did wrong.  

You get a call Friday from your mom, asking you to come to dinner, and you oblige, telling her that “No, Eddie won’t be joining me this time.” 

Through dinner, your parents can tell something’s wrong, but they don’t push it. Instead, they try to make conversation to help distract you. “Y/N,” your dad says, cutting through a piece of meatloaf. “We got a call last week from Y/BFF/N. She was looking for you. Did you get to talk to her?” You look between your plate and your dad. You try to think of a good excuse as to why you haven’t talked to her without airing out Eddie’s dirty laundry.  

“No, I didn’t even know she called. My answering machine broke last week. Took a few days to get it fixed,” you explain. 

“Oh,” he says. “Well, she gave us her new phone number. I’ll give it to you and you can call her. I’m sure she’d love to speak to you after so long.” You nod at that, giving a small, tight smile. The dinner table is quiet again for a few minutes before your mom gives it a go. 

“Well, how’s Eddie? I’m sure you two have been having a lot of fun in this weather. What have you been up to? Any rock shows in town worth seeing?” You grit your teeth, trying to keep calm. You appreciate your parents trying to pull you out of your bad mood, but God damn are they doing a terrible job at it. 

“Um, no. We’ve been busy this week at the bank. I haven’t gotten to go out.” You manage to sound mostly casual, though you’re sure your parents can see through it. They’ve always been good at reading you like an open book. “But I’m sure we’ll get together again soon.” You can feel your parents giving each other a look, communicating about you without speaking as they have since you were young, but you ignore it in favor of focusing on your dinner. 

The rest of the evening goes by without having to talk about Eddie or Y/BFF/N or any other touchy subject at the moment, which you’re grateful for, and you finally drive back home in silence. You can’t even listen to music right now without thinking of Eddie. Not that you weren’t already.  

When you get back home, you park yourself at your spot on the couch once again, staring out the window, thinking of Eddie when the phone starts ringing. You practically sprint over to the phone, picking it up to put the receiver to your face, hopeful that Eddie will be on the other side. 

“Y/N?” Your smile falters. It’s not Eddie... It’s Y/BFF/N.  

“Y/BFF/N? Oh, um, hi.” You don’t know what to say.  

“Hey,” she says. You can hear her smile on the other side, and you give a sad smile of your own. “How are you? I’ve been thinking about you lately.”  

“Oh, I’m- I’m good. I guess you heard from my parents that I moved back to Hawkins,” you muse, chewing the inside of your mouth. You’re going to have to tell her that you know what she did. You didn’t ask if Eddie had already told her, but you guess not if she’s called you again. 

“Yeah! That’s so great. I’ll have to come see you next time I come to see my parents,” Y/BFF/N suggests, making your brow furrow. Would you even want to see her? Would Eddie see it as a betrayal? 

“Yeah, maybe...” You don’t want to give a definite answer, but you also don’t want to come off as cold. “Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t call you back. My answering machine was broken last week and I’ve been waiting on a part to get it fixed.” 

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m just excited you answered this time. I didn’t know if you would. Your parents told me you’ve been, um, hanging out with Eddie. I don’t know what he told you, but I hope you can believe that I did what I did for good reason.” You let out a sigh, eyes floating up to the ceiling as you form your reply. 

“Y/BFF/N, all I will say is that I don’t want to get involved. I don’t want to pick sides. You were my best friend for years. But Eddie is my best friend now.” You try to sound firm, but you can’t help but remember the state Eddie was in when he called you that day after talking to her. His bloodshot eyes as he sank, defeated, into your sofa when he arrived. 

The line is quiet for a moment before you hear her take a breath. “I- I understand. Eddie was... is a good man. He just didn’t understand what I wanted.” She tries to explain. Your face scrunches in confusion, and annoyance laces your voice as you reply. 

“Didn’t he give up the band for you? And quit doing Hellfire? And buy a sensible car? And get a sensible job?” 

“Well, yes, but-” 

“But what? It wasn't enough? But Jason Carver and his rich, stick-up-their-asses parents are? Don’t you remember the hell that Jason put us through in high school?” The anger builds in your voice. Any chance for a cordial conversation is gone now. Screw not picking sides, you’ll pick Eddie’s every time after this sorry excuse of an explanation. 

“Y/N, it’s not like that anymore. Jason is so good to me. I love him more than I ever loved Eddie. I need you to believe me!” She sounds close to tears now, but you simply scoff. 

“Yeah, Y/BFF/N, I do believe you. And I also believe that that’s why you decided it was a good idea to fuck him in the same bed you and Eddie slept in instead of having the decency to break up with him before shacking up with the biggest asshole this town had to offer.” 

“But, Y/N-” 

“I’m not coming to your wedding, Y/BFF/N. Not after you broke my best friend’s heart. And just so you know, Eddie is the kindest, most amazing man I have ever met, and if I ever had the elite privilege of being loved by him, I would hold on to that love until the day I died. So, it’s your loss, really. Good luck with your life. Please, don’t call me again.” With that, you slam the phone back down onto the dock, practically shaking with rage. You let out a groan in frustration, pacing back and forth in your living room as you try to calm down. It’s such bullshit. Eddie deserved so much better. You wish you could show him how much better he deserves. Why does he have to keep avoiding you? If you knew where he lived, you could just show up there and demand to talk to him, but he’s never invited you over. 

You stop pacing as a thought comes to mind. Eddie may not answer his phone, but someone else might. Your eyes dart to the box of mementos in the corner that your mom gave you last weekend at dinner and go over to it, moving things out of the way until you find what you’re looking for. 

Your sophomore yearbook. You flip it over and open the back cover, your eyes scanning over the messages from former classmates until you find the one you’re looking for. “Hey loser, I know I’ll see you later but I wanted to write in here anyway just in case I get abducted by aliens or something. X- Ed.” Beneath the chicken scratch of his handwriting is his phone number. You remember asking for it because you kept losing it when he would write it on sticky notes. You go over to the phone with the yearbook in hand and dial the number, hoping Eddie’s uncle still lives there. After a few rings, a gruff voice sounds through the receiver. 

“Hello?” You let out a sigh of relief. It’s Wayne. 

“Hi, Mr. Munson? I don’t know if you remember me, my name’s Y/N L/N. I’m one of Eddie’s good friends from high school,” You explain. 

“Oh,” Wayne says, sounding much lighter than he did in his greeting. “Yeah, of course I remember you. What can I do for you, young lady?” You flounder, thinking of an excuse to ask what you want to ask. 

“Well, I, uh, I moved back to Hawkins recently and reconnected with Eddie, and he was over at my house last night and forgot his jacket. I was gonna return it today but I can’t find the paper he wrote his address on, and he’s not answering his phone. Can you give it to me?” You squint your eyes, hoping Wayne doesn’t think you’re some creepy stalker or something. 

“Yeah sure, get you a pen and some paper and I’ll let you write it down again,” You breathe a silent sigh of relief and get a pen to write down Eddie’s address.  

“Thank you, Mr. Munson. It’s so good to hear from you again!” You’re beaming at the success of your plan. 

“Any friend of Eddie’s is a friend of mine. You call me any time, sweetheart. You have a good night, now.” 

“Thank you! I will. You too, Mr. Munson.” As the line clicks off, you give yourself a small fist pump as you look at the address now written in your old yearbook. You waste no time gathering your essentials and walk toward the door.  

Time to go see Eddie. 

@corrodedcoffincumslut @haylaansmi @bebe07011

[lisbeth-kk]

Bitter

Thanks for another prompt @calaisreno

Sweet doesn’t suit you

John’s dates have a certain pattern. On the first date they meet outside the cinema and watch a film together. Right before they walk into the cinema hall, John receives a text from Sherlock. The words varies but the essence is as follows.

You will fall asleep halfway through. SH

Seriously, John. SH

The father abducted the child. SH

How Sherlock knows which film they’re watching, is beyond John, but he’s stopped caring about that long ago. He finds the texts amusing and feels himself relax once he hears the familiar ding from his phone. If his dates ever ask who the texts are from, John answers honestly, that it’s his flatmate. Neither has to date asked a follow-up question.

***

On the second date, they go to a museum or take a walk in one of London’s parks. After, they find a nice café somewhere and sit down for a coffee. As sure as the Earth goes around the Sun, Sherlock’s texts arrive after they’ve seated themselves at a table.

Eating that cake will hunt your stomach for hours, John. SH

She’s literally drooling over those macaroons. SH

Why does she have a dog when she’s allergic? SH

John chuckles when he reads the texts and shakes his head in amusement. He knows Sherlock sometimes follows him, and sometimes even John’s dates to gather data. It had irked John in the beginning, and he’d shouted and cursed quite a lot, but now he’s internally pleased with Sherlock’s weird interest in his love life.

This time, there are follow-up questions. Why does his flatmate text him? Anything in particular? A crisis of sorts? What’s he like?

And John’s almost unstoppable when asked to describe his flatmate and best friend. He covers it all. From his brilliant brain, the deductions, his skills as a musician and his affection for their landlady. He leaves out the looks, if they don’t asks specifically though. 

***

On the third date, they go out for dinner. Dress up a bit. Sherlock always looks him over before he goes. Straightens his lapels or tie. 

“It wouldn’t do our business any good if you turn up all rumpled, John,” Sherlock explains when John protests to the manhandling.

They always have an appetizer before the main course, and there’s also wine involved. At the end of the main course, there’s most likely to be fingers brushing a hand or arm and inviting eyes. When the intensity rises and their glasses are empty, John’s phone buzzes. He always turns the sound off but leaves the vibration on.

Have cheese. The other dessert’s are appalling. SH

Sweet doesn't suit you. The bitter chocolate cake may suffice. SH

Lestrade has an interesting case for us. Coming? SH

John always gets a bit tipsy after some glasses of wine, and Sherlock’s texts make him snort or laugh a bit too loud. His dates rarely appreciate it. They turn bitter, saying it’s all been a waste of their precious time. A fourth date is a thing John’s yet to experience. To his relief, come to think of it. He has more fun and excitement with Sherlock anyway. If he could have Sherlock’s love and share his bed, John would choose that any given day.

***

It’s his third, and probably last, date with Mia. She’s boring John almost to death with her daft remarks and interests. Therefore, John’s taken aback by her question. He’s just laughed at a text from Sherlock.

Do you think she’ll suck you off under the table if you ask nicely? SH

“You love him, don’t you?” Mia asks.

“What?” 

John’s stunned. What on earth is she on about?

“It’s clear as day, even to me,” she explains. “I mean he’s texted you on every date we’ve had, and the way your face lights up when you read them…”

John feels his cheek blush and he rubs his neck awkwardly.

“Uhm…are you serious?” he asks tentatively.

“Look, John, you’re a lovely man, and if anyone ever would look at me like you look at your phone…well, I can tell you I’d be more than pleased. And he must love you as well.”

“No, way. Sherlock doesn’t do relationships. Not romantic ones at least,” John says and sobers at the thought, which makes his heart ache a bit.

“I think you’re wrong. Think about it, John. If he’s not interested in you romantically why is he texting you when he knows you’re on a date?”

*** 

They parted outside the restaurant, without eating dessert, and there was no bitterness to be traced in Mia’s features. She just wished him good luck.

John ponders and twists Mia’s words in his mind while he’s walking home. She has a point. No other mate of his would go to all the trouble Sherlock has. They would barely bother with questions at all, let alone text him. As he locks himself in to 221 Baker Street, a flare of hope rises in him. 

What if Mia’s right? 

The violin starts to play just before John enters the flat. One of his favourite pieces. Silently he hangs up his jacket, tugs off his shoes and seats himself on the sofa. He drinks in the sight of Sherlock. His straight posture, the tight white shirt revealing his muscles moving underneath, his strong arms, the perfectly styled curls. John’s eyes drop to the plush and mouthwatering arse for a second. He swallows audibly and his trousers feels tight around his groin.

Jesus, the effect only a minute of eyeing the man has on him!

A sudden determination leads John to his feet, and he moves towards Sherlock. The piece is at an end and Sherlock lowers the bow and violin.

John’s right behind him now and lifts a trembling hand, placing it between Sherlock’s shoulder blades. To John’s surprise Sherlock doesn’t flinch and John finds his courage. He moves his hands to Sherlock’s flanks and leans his forehead to the spot where his hand were. Sherlock sighs and whispers John’s name.

“This okay, Sherlock?” John asks.

Sherlock confirms with a hum and John slides his arms around Sherlock’s waist and pulls him in to a proper embrace. 

He smells so good!

“No fourth date, then?” Sherlock inquires after a while.

John chuckles and turns Sherlock around to face him. He carefully releases him of the violin and bow, placing the objects carefully on the desk. The vulnerable look in Sherlock’s eyes, tells John everything.

“Brilliant deduction. I’ll only go on dates with my gorgeous flatmate from now on,” John states and pulls Sherlock down for their first kiss.

Bitter women, sweet boys!

@totallysilvergirl @raina-at @missdeliadili @topsyturvy-turtely @peanitbear @meetinginsamarra @keirgreeneyes @gaylilsherlock

[grimmmviewing]

S1E16: “The Thing With Feathers”—B (Watched 5/31/24)

Or, “Rear Grimmdo.”

“I was so excited to be getting out of Portland, but. . . . [d]oes it feel like trouble is following us?”

This one just crept into “B” range for me. For one thing, silly as it might sound, I’ve been waiting for a “Nick and Juliette go away but work intervenes” episode for a while now, so I finally got what I wanted, though I’m not completely satisfied. One major gripe that I have with this episode is that I wish the work intervention had been a bit less… typical? Maybe they could have forgone the Monroe talks, for example, to break with the usual formula a bit more thoroughly. As it is, the distance from home doesn’t really amount to much.

And yet, I genuinely like Nick and Juliette together, which is one of the major reasons I wanted to see this sort of set-up with them. I love Nick as her boyfriend. Here, he almost immediately takes her at her word and calls the local cops when she describes the neighbor’s mistreatment of his wife. The episode doesn’t even really flirt with the idea of taking the easy dramatic route of having Nick disbelieve Juliette. The Rear Window-adjacent voyeurism as they follow this “case” from the window of their vacation lodging is just a lot of fun and very satisfying for how united the two are in their investment and efforts.

They end up essentially trading off reassuring one another that they’ve done everything they can for Robin (the wife)—Nick reassures Juliette on the first night after the cops don’t do anything about the situation, and Juliette reassures him the next day after they’ve passed Nick’s card to Robin at the grocery store. Similarly, later, first Juliette and then Nick get pulled away from preparing their big, romantic dinner by the developing drama they can see through the window. This whole episode is like an expanded take on the dynamic from “Organ Grinder,” when Nick and Juliette ended up working together to interview the homeless brother and sister about their disappearing peers. It’s also further support in the affirmative for the question from that episode regarding whether Juliette can handle this side of Nick’s life. She’s more or less working the case (mundane and magical) with him, even if she doesn’t know the full scope of the thing.

As in “Organ Grinder,” Juliette displays a strong investigative intuition: When Nick is getting somewhat bad vibes when he realizes Robin’s husband is a sinister-looking Wesen, Juliette’s more or less having the same (if not stronger) experience seeing Robin looking out at her from a window. From the beginning of this conflict, Juliette is an active participant. Not as someone endangered by it (damsel-like) or who provides some convenient information without appreciating its impact, but as someone with agency. At worst, you could see this as a Sensitive Woman sort of stereotype—more in tune with emotions—but I don’t ultimately think this episode is particularly problematic.

It does focus on a case of domestic abuse, but I think the potential discomfort of that focus was moderated pretty strongly (at least for me) by the revelation that the husband Tim’s mistreatment is so incredibly mercenary. He’s keeping Robin inside to make sure he doesn’t lose the gold stone growing in her throat, and he force-feeds her to, I assume, grow the stone. That makes it a bit easier to enjoy the episode for its fun elements, like the aforementioned voyeurism, or the incredibly on-the-nose naming of Robin (a bird woman), or like a bit of the grocery store sequence where Gary, an employee there who’s also trying to help Robin get away from Tim, is stocking a shelf further along an aisle where Tim is shopping, and every time he bends and gets more product to place on the shelf, Tim has moved closer during the brief interval of time when our eyes (and Gary’s) were off him. It’s a fun take on the old horror standard, maybe in part because of the setting, in a brightly-lit and populated store rather than in a spooky old house at night…

Though not too gory, the eventual extraction of the matured gold stone (by Nick) is relatively wild, conceptually and sort of visually. His one-liner (the old “to make an omelet” deal) when Tim ends up tripping and accidentally destroying the stone is groan-worthy. Maybe that’s good, or bad? Bonus points (not actually) awarded for using “Season of the Witch” to score Hank’s date with Adalind at the end of the episode!

I barely talked about Monroe, who mostly spends the episode with Rosalee, and didn’t at all address the ongoing, strategic seduction of Hank, or the brief reminder of Sergeant Wu’s unsettling new dietary habits; however, while accidental, these omissions may speak to a preference or wish on my part, looping my thoughts on this episode: I wanted more Nick and Juliette and less of the other usual stuff.

[imaginespazzi]

Hey bestie,

How are you? I hope you’re doing good! Me? Not so much after reading part 3 😭

My thoughts:

I wasn’t expecting us to finally get the fight from that night, so I was NOT prepared. This - When Azzi’s 18, Paige says those words, ones that sound a lot like giving up, and teaches Azzi that sometimes in life, even the people you thought would never make you feel this way, are the ones who'll break you the most – this broke me babe, and to think Azzi still held on despite everything. Like I know Paige was just hurting but maybe she does deserve the suffering (a little bit) after all.

The entire summer scene was fucking elite. Poor Katie and Tim, they just wanted a. nice. family. dinner!! And instead they had to sit through their daughter’s gay ass drama lmao, #freeKatieandTim

The bros standing ten toes down for Pazzi ✊ Jon and José not even trying sent me, like no sorry, P is our sister-in-law but we appreciate you dropping by. AND DREW, our MVP - Drew had looked over to Azzi then, his eyes wide and accusing, “you can’t be Azzi’s girlfriend.” – little man was a bit traumatised, like sorry pookie who is this girl and why is she claiming to be something she can’t possibly be? He’s the GOAT fr, I know when he and P got back home, he scolded tf outta her and it went something like- Drew: “Why are you letting Azzi be other people’s girlfriend?? That’s OUR pookie.” P: “I know, I’m trying bro!”. Drew: “Well try harder!!” *stomps away*.

Then the Cayman Islands - UCLA and UConn to each other: 😡😤🔪🤬🖕👿 while Azzi and Paige: 🥰😍🫂🤩💗👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 and then there’s probably Carol like: 😩 (she’s so over all this)

And then the ending! I’m guessing P left without saying goodbye because she probably saw the text from Zoe and once again was promptly reminded of their reality? 🥺

Speaking of Zoe, oh girl I’m so sorry, you deserve better – like damn, she just wanted to share some fucking pizza!!

Also, jealous Azzi making an appearance! (I’m such a shameful sucker for the jealous Paige and Azzi trope, I’m sorry!)

Oh and one final thing on part 3 – babe I know you said writing **** was taking years off your life, but we really appreciate your sacrifice because it was absolute 🔥🔥

What’s next (potentially)?

Oh man where to from here huh… I feel like Paige is eventually gonna get to the point where she's like "choose me, pick me", only to realise that Azzi just can’t do it cause she can't trust her with her heart, and I know it's gonna hurt bad. And even though Paige needs and wants more, she’ll also take whatever she can get even if it’s slowly killing her, because it’s Azzi and she’d rather have a little bit of her than none at all 😔

Also, a tension-filled game between them in the final 4 coming up maybe??

That part where Katie shoots Azzi a look of disappointment – I wonder if momma Fudd will ever call out Azzi over whatever’s happening between her and Paige and poor Zoe?

Either way, something tells me we’ve still got a lot of angst coming our way, and look as much as I want our babies to finally just get their shit together, I just can’t say no to more angst you know, I’m just a girl. 🤷‍♀️

Oh and this part - she’s even less sure about how she’d survived that one year where they’d practically lived in each other’s skins – is this something (I'm guessing this is their covid era?) we go into a bit more?? I do love all the allusions/references to how long they’ve always been something more and the blurring of the lines but never fully crossing it obviously until that fateful summer of 2022. I guess it does explain somewhat, though, why Paige felt so betrayed about Azzi not choosing her (UConn) because baby girl probably thought “ok once we’re both at UConn, we can finally be together 😌” - like her dream/vision of them playing together and also being together got ripped away from her ❤️‍🩹

As always, bestie, thank you for existing, thank you for your talent and for being so generous in sharing it with us. You outdo yourself every. fucking. time. 💐

Quick non-ucla fic side note: ESPN’s Bracketology having Utah and UConn on opposing sides of the bracket, so basically they’re saying Utah vs UConn championship game where I get to watch AP and PB ball out? Yeah ok, give it to me. 🤪 #APHiveUP (but bleed blue always ofc)

Favourite quote/line:

“You always say the right things,” Paige says quietly, and then even quieter, she whispers under her breath, “you make it so hard Az.”

Big love always 💗,

-🙋‍♀️

Hi bestie,

Omg I'm sorry....again 😭

I was gonna wait a little longer with the fight but it felt right to have it in this chapter and I wanted it to be from Azzi's perspective because it would hit just a little harder

Poor Katie and Tim fr like they should have just gone on a cute date instead of having to deal with this craziness

The brothers are the biggest Pazzi shippers like they're actually tired of their sister's bullshit at this point. Drew with the biggest truth ever really just shut everybody else up. "GET OUR POOKIE BACK BEFORE I HAVE TO DO SOMETHING" - Drew Bueckers at some point probably

I was gonna add a line about Carol and Charisma just frowning at their teammates and being all exasperated and then fully forgot lmao but yeah UCLA and UConn are big mad at each other. Though writing Nika and KK are Muhl and Arnold felt so weird.

Bestie you might be the only person who got my hint which apparently was not as obvious as I thought 😭

Zoe, poor girlie pop, y'all are gonna be absolute wrecked for her soon because girlie's just a sweetheart who does not deserve this but got caught in it anyway

Jealous Azzi might actually be worse than jealous Paige in this universe lmao but the waitress was doing *too much*

Part 4 is honestly a bit of a mystery to me because I've dug myself a bit of a hole but never fear, I will angst myself out of it somehow. 😭

#APHiveUp YES EXACTLY BESTIE!! Utah vs UConn for the national championship because actually AP vs AE would be pretty fun too and listen not to get at my girl AP, but AE would win that and then UConn would win and that's the only valid ending.

As always, thank you for being here bestie. I love your long asks and how much you just get me and the UCLA fic which really wouldn't even be a thing without you.

Love you babes <3

[alyjojo]

Thinking of You - February 🫦 2024 - Taurus

Whole of their energy towards Taurus: King of Pentacles

Normally this is your own energy, this could be someone that knows you very well and sees you authentically for who you are. You could be getting a lot of recognition from your career, you may run a business or have recently started one. There’s a bit of newness with whatever you’re doing, and I see “the grind” highlighted with this Knight. You may have been featured in an article, maybe you made a commercial, you’ve gotten the word out in some way. This person sees you as “a star” ⭐️ in whatever you do. Very positive and supportive energy so far.

Feelings: The Hierophant

They are 100% committed to you, if this is a business partner or coworker, they’ve got your back and seek to see the same vision that you do. If this is a partner, they’ve very serious about you and see this relationship as forever/marriage/long term potential. If you’re married, there could be a beautiful new beginning with this person, you could be going into business with your partner, or this person, that’s here with 3 Pentacles. There’s a note here that you may not be speaking up about having a lot of pressure on you, asking for help, you just try to do everything on your own. Stubborn, that’s what you all are known for best 😆 I think they want to help you but maybe don’t know how, you have to spell it out for them sometimes.

Intentions: Knight of Pentacles

This feels like another earth sign. They support what you’re doing but at the same time, there’s a lot less together time, or they’re feeling like less of a priority, there’s a lot of time spent alone - Hermit. They don’t like that, it confuses them and makes them feel things, like rejection, questioning, disappointment, feeling let down. I doubt they’re saying that, instead they’re using their love language of “acts of service” (most likely) to put in effort for you. Consistently, loyally, you can depend on them for anything and they continue showing up for you. You’re overwhelmed with work, they’re willing to cook dinner. Or if this is someone at work, they’re afraid of being left out as you rise, again getting a lot of attention, and I’m hearing “don’t forget about me!” The Moon at the bottom, because there’s clearly space between you, they could be assuming all sorts of things - probably the worst things. I think they want to feel recognized too, if not publically then at least *by you*. Or maybe publically too.

Actions: 3 Pentacles

They’re still going to tackle things practically how they have been, I get this person is too proud to verbally ask for…love? Appreciation. Recognition, a hug, but they want to be celebrated and adored. By YOU. They’re waiting and waiting, it’s extremely difficult for them, and is it your job to read minds or get tarot readings to spell it out? No. They need to learn to communicate, maybe you could gently communicate that to them - after you do show some love and appreciation for this person. A bonus, a perk of some kind, maybe move someone up or mention them in a public way to let others know their time and efforts are appreciated. In no way do I feel like you purposely make anyone feel this way, that’s why they’re so held back from you. Hoping, waiting, eventually right? It’s a good time to celebrate those you love. They want you to READ their mind already 😆 Could be someone that “hints”. For some it’s definitely a spouse/partner, with the messages. If this is a friend or someone you work with casually, a “best friend”, they want way more, like yesterday.

Messages:

Their side:

- I like to cuddle 🤗

- Till Death Do Us Part 💍

Your side:

- You’re my best friend.

- OBSESSED 🤩

Possible signs:

Heavy earth 🍁 Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn, Scorpio & Leo

If you’re dealing with:

5 Pentacles, also your energy. You could have/had some shady people in your life that you have to leave behind in order to move forward, some of these people may feel abandoned, or they did/are doing this to you and you feel that way. This is like being shut out in the cold with no help, no shelter, no give a fk - from others or you, could be either side. For some this may be financially related as well. Victory is underneath this, whatever was/is done - is for a reason, and it’s for the best - you’re going to get through this successfully 💯

Aries - not coming towards you with passion, or they know you won’t have it, instead they’re coming towards you with a sincere offer - they see you as 10 Cups 💕

Taurus - financially & career focused, they’re probably telling you all about it, something is in the works for them

Gemini - has a whole lot of options and doesn’t know what to do with any of them, this month they’ll decide “no” on at least one

Cancer - probably won’t be hearing from them, they could be sick, or there’s something medical they’re ignoring, if you know about that thump them on the head or something, or you don’t know why they aren’t speaking…or going to a doctor

Leo - pissed off at something they found by snooping/stalking, or something that’s been said, or switch it

Virgo - unfinished business regarding player esque bs or aggressive/controlling dynamics

Libra - not healing a connection is Justice, you’ve got your own thing going on

Scorpio - going through a very difficult breakup, with you or otherwise, if you’ve lost one (any relationship), it took a lot to overcome or is currently

Sagittarius - goes from 0 to 100, the roadblocks are cleared away, could have a work trip or some travel thing come up 💨

Capricorn - fun, impulsive, passionate times to be had at home, you’re goofballs together 🥸

Aquarius - apologizing for creating worry or mental stress for you, they want to fix it

Pisces - loves you very much and is willing to do anything to overcome any issues here

[bethagain]

Thinky-thoughts incoming! Today’s topic: Musings on relationships and The Mandalorian, from someone who doesn't get it. AKA, What’s the deal with shipping Din and Bo-Katan?

Friendly chats about the following are welcome! But, please ignore if my ramblings are going to upset you.

I didn’t get the Din/Luke thing at first, but I have to admit there’s some potential there. And I can see why the Bo-Katan/Armorer thing has its fans. But I do not get the Din/Bo-Katan thing. At all. And because I feel like writing and my fic ideas are absolutely refusing to happen, I’m gonna pontificate about it.

Ok, so: Din and Luke, they’ve got stuff in common.

They both love a hotrod. Luke’s gonna swoon over the N-1 starfighter. Din’s gonna ask if he can try out the X-wing. They’re gonna bore the crap out of everyone but Peli, talking specs over the beer that Luke’s drinking and Din’s got untouched in front of him (because, helmet).

Yeah, Din’s a reluctant hero while Luke’s been a willing one—but by now, Luke’s seen a few things and I bet he’s starting to feel the weight. Bet you they have their moments of commiseration: Oh come on, not me, not again.

Once they’ve committed, though, they’re both reckless as hell. Luke might jump in faster while Din takes a minute, but once they get going neither one of them has much of a sense of self-preservation.

We’ve seen Din be a stone-cold killer, and people like to think of Luke as the gentle one. But Luke didn’t get his Tumblr reputation of “sunshine and tempered death” for nothing. Do not threaten something he cares about, or someone he loves.

Din’s more deadpan and Luke’s more likely to burst out laughing, but I think we’ve seen they each can appreciate the absurd. They’re going to get each other’s jokes.

Bo-Katan and the Armorer? We know less about each of them, I think, but still:

They’ve taken different paths, but their end goals are the same. The Armorer chose stealth and secrecy, keeping the people away from the world that would hurt them, while Bo-Katan chose guerrilla warfare. But they both gave over their lives to preserving what was left of Mandalore.

They’re both extremely skilled fighters, and they both fight with economy and grace. They’re well matched to train together, even if their skills are different.

They’re both intentional leaders. They’ll be able to share notes on the challenges of authority and how to overcome them.

But Din and Bo-Katan? What are people seeing, that makes them think these two should be together?

Bo-Katan obviously cares a lot about her people, but she’s irreverent and sarcastic about Mandalorian culture, too. Din takes it all extremely seriously, to the point of risking his life (more than once) for a point of protocol. They try to get together, they’re gonna drive each other nuts. Especially if they’re trying to raise a kid together.

Bo-Katan plans and strategizes, as she did with building the fleet. Impulse is not really her thing. When have we ever seen Din have a plan that he didn’t make up on the spur of the moment? Imagine them trying to organize a vacation together. Or dinner, even.

The getting-each-other’s-jokes thing. Do they have the same sense of humor? No idea. Does Bo-Katan even have one?

And then there’s the fact that Din promised to serve her. I know a lot of folks thought that was romantic, but I don’t see it. That was a pledge of deference and duty to a military and cultural leader. When Din speaks, he's generally got one of two settings: He's either utterly serious or offering up dry humor. Sure, he's capable of double meanings, but we've only seen him use that against people. It's not a trick for someone he respects. Plus, we never see Bo-Katan offer anything like a pledge to him in return.

Of course, there’s also the fact that my non-shippy heart wants to see more of Din and Grogu’s adventures together, and Din’s development as a parent and as a Mandalorian—and I don’t see any real need to hand him a canon romance. I mean, sure, he’s a bit of a blorbo for me and I want him to be happy. But from a storytelling perspective I just don’t think it’s missing.

[skoulsons]

Gonna talk about the five love languages in regards to Joel and Ellie, and examples of them in the games bc im profusely down bad.

So, we got…

• Words of affirmation. First one that came to mind was in Bill’s town in the optional dialogue before the pickup truck and fighting the infected in the street section. “You’re doing a good job. Figured you should know that.” That’s the first time we hear him express anything like to her in their journey thus far. And the “she did hold her own back there.” Once they’re out and he talks to Bill. It’s not directly to her, but I’ll count it. Though, I don’t think there’s too many because their relationship isn’t super verbal in communicating appreciation? The appreciation is clearly there, but for them to express it directly to each other isn’t too common, but the times it’s there, it’s always special. The times Joel has needed to say “thank you”, but because he’s a dumb old man and can’t just outright say it and has to say “it was either him or me” instead counts, too. Maybe not affirming, necessarily, but a word of thanks, which can go a long way.

• Acts of service. Their whole relationship, if we’re being honest. I think they serve each other by protecting and taking care of each othe r. For the most part, it’s Joel’s fatherly instincts that are there, not wanting her to get hurt. But, what I think goes hand-in-hand with that is his heart in general, especially as their relationship grows. He does it because he wants to. He takes care of her because he wants to. And Ellie doing the same, especially during winter. She gave him everything. All the warmth and majority of food while he was out. She needed him, maybe, but she cares about him. She willingly endured what little food, sleeping on a cold basement floor with no warmth, and fearing what could happen out there alone all for Joel. (I’m not mentioning his end of game decision because I don’t think it necessarily falls under the acts of service definition <3)

• Gift giving. A precious one. The biggest one, obviously, is the tape recording of the space launch in the museum flashback in TLOU2. The amount of time and effort that Joel put in to not only the tape, but that whole trip. Scoping out the entire museum and surrounding area (with the exception of the second building) to make sure it was safe for Ellie, finding the museum in the first place, finding the recording and making sure it still worked, and setting aside a few days for them to get out of Jackson for the trip. Him giving her the guitar is the other big one, of course. Giving her that specific guitar to have and practice on and cleaning it up just for her. Plus, him loving guitar and music as much as he does makes it even better that he’s teaching what he loves so dearly to someone he loves so dearly. And a small one is finding the comics while playing as Joel in TLOU1. It’s gameplay only, but the notion of him picking them up and doing his whole “Ellie! Found another one of them comics you’ve been reading” is very cute.

• Quality time. Sure, they’ve had plenty of quality time the entire year they were on the road together, but I think what sticks out the most is them playing guitar together. We don’t get any scenes of it (sadge :/), but we know they spent a lot of time on it for her to learn as much as she did from him. For her to learn Future Days, Take on Me, and like two or three other songs from what she plays in game means they spent a decent amount of time together. Late night jam sessions on his porch or out in the town. Maybe even in his house on the couch or at the dinner table. Another point for quality time is their movie nights. We know they watched a good amount together (Jurassic Park, a number of cheesy 80s action films that we know both Ellie AND joel like, based on her dialogue with Dina). And we also know that Joel was reading a “idiot’s guide to space(?)” book, hoping that he’d get to have some more time with her to talk about it and bond over something he knew she loved so much.

• Physical touch. Oh look, my favorite to talk about. As much as I have this head canon that they hugged before winter for some reason or another, I also like thinking that that was their first one. Joel taking a moment, despite them being in a burning building and definitely inhaling plenty of smoke, to pull her away and hold her to calm her down and comfort her. Something he definitely missed doing and probably thought he forgot how to do, but it came back like muscle memory. And I like to think that, after that, it was easier. Maybe she slept closer to him on the harder nights out there. Maybe she did bunk with him when they were newcomers in Jackson and she had a nightmare and didn’t want to be alone (maybe this is from reading too many fics of them 😶). Also,, him kissing her head when he found her at Saint Mary’s :’)

Mmm hope this made sense bc I was literally shaking wanting to write this. Dropping this ten minutes before the ep drops, cant wait to lose my mind