#fandoms are big and loud and i am tired

[gregorygerwitz]

I just cheered at your response to your latest ask. I've only been in the 911 fandom since start of S7 but I am really struggling with so many people making Buck's Bi storyline about Eddie. People watch an entire episode through their shipping lenses and it's become so frustrating because this is about BUCK being queer and having positive experiences with men/Tommy. I simply don't read into every buck/eddie interaction the way everyone else seems to because if you step away - it's often not that deep. I think the shippers need to realise that a general viewer of the show and the way the script is at the moment - buddie romantically is not there. Maybe it will be at some point which would be great but my god - let Buck experience this without people constantly making it all about Eddie.

I've written so many posts about it at this point that I've lost count but yes. Exactly.

This is a storyline about Buck realizing his sexuality. Realistically, BuckTommy isn't going to be endgame. Statistically, that's just not going to happen - but they're really cute and I want them to be together for a little while. I love their relationship and how healthy it is. There's communication, and growth, and a sexuality realization arc, and that's so rare to see on TV anymore. I'm so used to my favorite (queer) ships either not being canon or being put through so much drama for the sake of drama that I wish they weren't canon (I think the only exception I can think of here is HenRen), and it's especially rare to see a bisexuality arc treated with so much care and love without it being a stepping-stone to being gay (Netflix you know what you did).

I wish the storyline was treated as well by the fandom as it is by the cast and the writers. Lou and Oliver are doing a fantastic job, and I hope they get to keep doing this job, because I love seeing BuckTommy on my screen. I think they have really good chemistry!

But I know that, realistically, the fandom is just going to keep being Like This. I've been in big fandoms before, and the most popular ships do have a lot of chill fans (I like to think I'm part of that group, but I haven't seen me from the outside, so I'm not a reliable source there), but the ones that are like this - making everything about their ship even when a scene has nothing to do with it, and sometimes nothing to do with either character - are just so loud that they drown everyone else out.

And it sucks, but that's why we curate our own experiences online to the best of our ability. I'm going to try to keep having fun (and write more Kinkley fic when I have time this weekend) and do my best to ignore the loud fans during the hiatus. Hopefully things will quiet down while we're between episodes, or at least the block button will be easier to use (thank goodness for KXit so I can block specific posts, or else I would lose my mind)

And, if you ever need to vent about something, believe me, I will understand. Feel free to message me - either through anon again here in my ask box, or if you want to privately communicate - and I'll commiserate with you happily. 💜

[faesystem]

As an ambulatory wheelchair user I have so many thoughts about how people draw/write disabled!Scar. This is sort of a guide/insight from a disabled person about writing/drawing disabled people.

Specifically in regards to wheelchair users.

Do not get me wrong, this fandom is genuinely probably the best group of people I have ever seen when it comes to drawing wheelchairs. I do not believe I have ever seen Scar fanart where he is in a completely unusable, horrible, hospital chair. It is so clear people have taken the time and energy to research into wheelchairs and I love it. I am in no way saying stop that.

I just think people could maybe put a little bit more consideration into him being disabled beyond visual appearance.

I saw a really amazing artwork of SL!Scar and he is in a sports chair. Which is really cool, in many ways, as it shows some thought being put into the setting. If I were in combat, I would in fact like to not be knocked from my chair or have my chair tipped over.

Yet, you have very limited mobility in a sports chair. It is, by design, made to prevent you from tipping over. Which means that you are incapable of going over bumps, really, let alone natural terrain.

Just in general, there really is not any wheelchair that exists in our world that would allow wheelchair users to exist in a setting like the life series.

So, I have some ideas:

- Horses. Hands down my biggest suggestion. Especially with Secret Life they fit in very well with the setting, everyone uses them, and it fits the bill perfectly for what he would need. Especially considering Scar is an archer, it makes a lot of sense for him to be on horseback. It suits him and his style of fighting so well.

- Some sort of redstone power chair. There are all sorts of ways you could design something like this. Perhaps with pistons that push down against the ground, allowing for jumps. Perhaps just a series of pistions functioning as like a bunch of little spider legs. There are a lot of things you can do with that, you can get very creative.

- For my Vex!Scar lovers, you could have magic be used as a mobility aid. Perhaps a magic wheelchair, or perhaps a magic exoskeleton.

And with all of the ideas, considering how they fit into the setting really changes everything. What are the strengths? What are the draw backs?

With horses, they are strong and fast and agile. But they are big, it is hard to fit into small spaces, and they can be killed.

With some sort of redstone chair, I feel as though it would make sense for it to be robust and strong. Depending on how it is constructed, something fast and agile or perhaps something a bit slower and more clunky. Is it loud? How would stealth work in something like that?

When it comes to any sort of magic you do not want it to fix the disability. It is a mobility aid like any other. Not perfect, not the same as not being disabled, just another tool with its own unique draw backs. Perhaps magic is draining or it takes concentration. Would he tire quicker than others? Would he require food quicker than others? Is it possible for him to lose focus on it in a stressful situation, leaving him stuck until he can calm himself down?

Other things to consider are really specifically the setting as well as what disability you are giving him.

I feel as though on Hermitcraft an option like a redstone chair just makes a lot of sense. Multiple redstone chairs, even, all constructed differently for different uses. Such as ones for building. How does long distance travel work with the chair and how you lore your setting? Is it something he can put in his inventory? Is it something he remains in when using an elytra? Does that have any draw backs, such as being slower or needing more rockets or being less coordinated in the air?

I feel as though in the life series a mix of vex magic and horses makes a lot of sense. The magic is good for small spaces and short trips and emergencies, but it is too tiring to travel across the map with and too much effort to maintain when he needs to concentrate on battles. That would be where the horse comes into play.

As for what disability, well, it truly depends. Most of my rambles here have been based upon paraplegia, because I often times see people making him an ambulatory wheelchair user just because they do not know what to do otherwise.

Not that making him an ambulatory wheelchair user is a bad thing by any means. I am one and I adore reading stories like that. It is just a bit clear that a lot of you are quite lost as to how to navigate hurdles disabled people face, so you make it so he can walk over those hurdles. Which, once again, I am not shaming you for! This post is just to show there are other options

But in the case of him being an ambulatory wheelchair user: why is he one?

Mobilities aids are disabling unless you need them. You cannot access spaces or you do not have hands free or any number of things. What to the Scar you are writing makes using mobility aids helpful instead of a hindrance? What times are they more trouble than help, and what cost is there for not using it?

A good example is if Scar can walk around short distances with minimal difficulty/drawback, but long distances are painful or physically not possible.

Look into different disabilities and consider it. A lot of people tend to default to chronic pain because that tends to be quite a common one across a lot of disabled people, but there are a lot more different reasons why.

It could also be that he is very slow because of his disabilities. I have muscle weakness sometimes because of my FND, and it is like moving through sludge whenever I try and move.

It could also be that the mobility aids are a preventative measure. He does not need to use his wheelchair, unless he has done too much walking and then his body refuses to support his weight. He does not need to use his wheelchair, but when he does not he is a lot more likely to dislocate something and then yeah he can't walk. He does not need to use his wheelchair, but he is a fall risk especially after a lot of walking or running. Him being in his wheelchair prevents him from falling! (And if he's a fall risk, maybe he's strapped in too!)

I just have so many thoughts and I wanted to share them.

I see so many of you putting in effort already and it warms my heart. It is why I feel comfortable enough to make this post, because clearly you all care a lot about representing disabled people well.

:]

If you have read this far thank you so much. Let me know what you think or if you have any questions.

Edit: I made a rough redstone wheelchair design. It is one of the few reblogs that has comments, if you filter for that you should be able to find it. If not, reply to the post and I can send you the link to it. :]

[nickfurysrighteye]

Practise?

chase davenport x reader

summary: the school's gonna do a play and it's gonna be Romeo and Juliet. Chase was supposed to help with the behind the scenes but instead he gets to play Romeo, and you, Juliet, offer him some help with his lines..

cw: sfw, kissing, that's it i think

a/n: this is my first time writing for this fandom and also my first time making my writing public so please be kind :') ...i haven't written any type of fanfic in a veeeery long time. this is just for fun!!!

"Seriously?! I can't believe it!"

Janelle yells storming into the gym. Everybody stops what they're doing to look at her puzzled. This year Mission Creek High decided to organize a play and upon a great request it was decided to stage 'Romeo and Juliet'. Janelle volunteered to direct the entire planning of it.

"Our Romeo decided it was a great time to break his arm, therefore we don't have a Romeo anymore!" she says walking towards Leo, who's busy painting the fake wooden balcony. Leo decided to take part in the production only to have an excuse to be with Janelle, and doing so he dragged Chase along, just to have some company.

A few people gather around to see what was going on, you take your eyes off the script you were revising to look at your classmates on the opposite site of the room.

"So? What's the big deal?" says Leo "The understudy can take his place."

"The big deal is we don't have an understudy! We barely have enough people working on this play, do you really think we have extras?" Janelle is furious.

"Why don't we pick somebody from the crew?" you barge into the conversation, feeling the eyes of everyone onto you "I mean, it's not like we have time to redo auditions.."

Everybody is silent, eyes going left and right scanning the room for someone brave enough to take on one of the leading roles. You look behind Leo's shoulder "I bet Chase could do it."

Chase was surprised and slightly confused by your statement "Me? But I'm not an actor." he says, struggling to speak loud enough to be heard.

"Neither am I, and neither is everyone else..this is a high school play not Broadway, no of us are actors." you shrug while looking over to the brown haired boy.

Janelle looks over to him "Chase, do you think you could do it? You'd be a life saver, honestly." you could hear the tension in her voice from all the stress the planning brought her.

"I-i mean, sure I could give it a try" Chase tried so hard to sound confident in his choice but you could hear the slight tremor in his tone.

"Perfect, problem solved!" Janelle said.

Once everyone got back to work you get closer to Chase, "If you want we can practise the lines together, I could also give you some tips."

"Sure, I'd love that." Chase says with a sweet, soft smile. "Cool, you can stop by at my house today if that's ok." you smile back

"Yeah, sure, I'll see you later."

-

After school, the two brothers head to the lab and Chase is panicking, regretting the choice he made earlier that day. "Why would I agree to do something like this?! Why didn't you stop me Leo?! This is going to be a disaster! The play's gonna suck!" he spits out the words so quickly he can barely keep up with his thoughts.

"Chase chill out! You'll be fine, like Y/n said no one here's an actor, you're all gonna suck" Leo's already tired of his complaining.

Chase's worry isn't only his acting, but the fact he's gonna be the lead in a romantic play with you as his love interest. He's also terrified by the idea of having to kiss you multiple times on stage, in front of a ton of people. This is stressing him out way more than anticipated.

He already knew who you were long before taking part in this project. He saw you walk around the halls, he saw you sitting a couple of desks in front of him in some classes you have together. He always thought about you as the pretty girl he would only talk to in his imagination. Nobody could have predicted the two of you acting as lovers in a school play. Certainly not Chase.

-

With his heart beating out of his chest, Chase knocks on your front door. You open the door and invite him in. "We can go upstairs in my room" you say, guiding him upstairs.

You go through the script together, focusing on the more difficult parts to memorize. You're suprised Chase could memorize all these lines so quickly, and he's getting better at getting into character.

He says every line with the right feeling, you two work in harmony, it's like you're no longer acting as the characters but are living the story as yourselves.

"You're quite talented you know that Chase?" you smile

"Thanks, I'm actually a bit nervous if I'm being honest." he chuckes while lowering his eyes, looking at his fingers fidgeting with the corner of the script's page.

"How come? You're doing great." you tilt you're head slightly. You sit on your bed, taking a small break.

He shrugs, sitting down beside you "I don't know, I just am" he mumbles.

You stare at him with a soft gaze, you study his expression, you're lightly mesmerized by the way the light beam from the setting sun is hitting his face, shining through your window. His eyes now being a warmer hazel tone.

He can hear the beat of his heart in his ears "Actually, I'm scared 'cause --" he stops "I'm worried about our kiss."

"Our kiss?"

"Yeah, it scares me a little having to kiss in front of an audience."

"It's gonna be a quick kiss don't worry about it."

"I know, it's just that --" he looks down again "I've never done it before."

"You've never kissed anyone?" you say, the slight surprise in your voice makes him feel even worse now.

"It's fine Chase, I get it. There's no need to be ashamed of it." you try to reassure him. "Wanna practise?"

"The kiss?" he looks at you.

"Yeah, I mean, we probably should anyway since it's part of the play." you say, standing up and placing yourself in front of him like you would be on stage.

"Yeah, ok, that's..a good idea" he stands up as well. Chase tries to hide his uncertainty.

"You sure about this?" you ask, you don't want to pressure him.

"A hundred percent" he's anxious, he's rubbing subtly his hands on his jeans because they're starting to sweat, his knees get weaker and he hopes they'll be strong enough to support him.

"Ok now, just follow my lead." you take his hand, leaning nearer. Your other hand cupping his cheek, your lips are now inches apart. Your touch feels warm on his skin, making him breathe faster.

"Close your eyes." as he does so, your place your lips onto his gently, and start to slowly and softly kiss him.

A warm feeling of joy starts to bubble up in his chest as he copies your movements and picks up the pace. The kiss gets more intense, more impatient as he tastes your lips. You get closer and your hand that was on his cheek is now on the back of his neck, tangling your fingers with his hair. His hands start to move, although he's still unsure of what to do.

You stop for a brief moment. "It's ok if you wanna touch me, y'know." Chase laughs a little, he then places his hands on your sides, sliding them down to your waste. He grabs a little harder and pull you into another kiss, this time greedier, messier.

He didn't think it would feel this good kissing you, his heart is racing so fast you could probably hear it. Your lips are exploring eachother, you're both enjoying this much more than you should be. After a few moments Chase decides to wet your bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, you part your lips a bit and he slips part of his tongue in. The feeling of your tongues tasting eachother sends shivers down your spine, you feel your cheeks getting warmer.

"You taste amazing" he blurs out the moment he stops to catch his breath, then he pulls you again into another kiss. His words make you melt.

Chase has lost track of time. Actually he has lost track of anything, he can only feel you. Your lips, your tongue, your taste, the sweet smell of your perfume and the warmth of your body standing so close to his. A few moments pass and you pull away to catch your breath, your faces still close to eachother.

"Was i good?" his question makes you chuckle.

"Yeah, you were. You know the kiss isn't supposed to last this long though, right?"

"Sorry i got a bit carried away." Chase laughs a little. You smile softly, caressing his cheek with your thumb.

"I don't think you're gonna have problems on stage, Chase"

"Although we should probably get back to revising the lines"

"We should, but after we're done we should go back to the kissing part, just to be sure"

[yandere-sins]

The Orcas' Tale - Lyr's Story I

And here he is, our sweetest, craziest, loveliest boy ♥ Honestly, it was fun giving Lyr a bit more personality than he had in the original story, and I am also glad to have provided him with a cute little darling of his own. I hope you guys enjoy slipping into the role of a mermaid, and ehem look forward to a different kind of spice (;

Fandom: Original Content   Pairings: Yandere!Orca Merman x GN!AFAB!Reader   Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Non-Con Kissing/Touching/Fingering, Bondage kind of), Violence (Threats to kill/harmm reader, Sharp teeth/claws, Almost tearing off reader's jaw), Monsters/Non-Human reader, Animalistic behavior, Mention of blood/claws/sharp teeth, Hinting at death/non-con, Feeding the reader seal meat, Being caught in a net, Long post

"They just won't stop bugging! Like, I get it, Mom, bringing a human into the pod was stupid and dangerous, but it's not our fault that Nerrocan left!"

Heaving a deep sigh, Lyr looked up at the water's surface through the holes in the ceiling of the cove he had found. Light was shimmering into the mostly calm water, a few tiny fish slipping in and out of the cave-like structure while he rested on his back, ignoring any wildlife of the ocean as he had no interest in small fry. They didn't get close enough to be caught, wary of the superior predators of the sea, who, unbeknownst to anyone's eyes, looked more like friends hanging out than what they really were—captor and captive.

Despite his annoyance and loud complaining, he looked tired. You had witnessed many a mood of his ever since he decided to hide you away for his own enjoyment, but as of late, every time Lyr visited you, he looked more exhausted than the last. As usual, his eyes were dull, and his dorsal fin collapsed. For an orca in his best years, he looked like he'd been dragged through the blue hell, but it invoked no sympathy inside you. All you could do was listen and observe, but knowing he was the merman responsible for your misery, you felt no pity for your clearly mentally unstable captor. Reaching to his left, Lyr picked another piece of meat from the seal carcass he had hunted, slipping the food into his mouth before continuing his rant.

"Who'd have known that guy had it in him. Can't help but respect him getting the fuck out of the pod, and I'm glad I don't have to see his wannabe goody two-fin face anymore. It's been getting harder to put him in his place with how aggressive he suddenly got."

"Won't they miss him?"

Lyr stopped chewing, his head falling to the side, facing you. Muddy purple eyes sprang to life, reflecting the light as brilliant as rare corals. With one big gulp, he devoured what had been left of his meal, a toothy grin spreading over his lips. "Look who decided to talk! Who's gonna miss him? His mommy? Sure. It's not like she has a dozen more just like him."

For a moment, you held his stare, watched the grin stretch wider, and twisted his expression into a grimace before you lowered your eyes, settling on drawing swirls into the sand. It wasn't like you wanted to have a conversation with him, but listening day in and day out to his crazy rambles and complaints was just as bovine as engaging with the madman. 

"That's not very nice. I'm sure his mom loves them all equally. You've got a big family, after all."

"Nah," he retorted, shaking his head. Picking out a bone from the seal's body, he used it as a toothpick, cleaning out the sharp-edged teeth he loved flashing you. "Orcas aren't like yours. We don't love each other just because we share the same blood or come from the same mother. Either you're useful to the pod and do what you're told, or you're at the very bottom of the food chain. I could never be the same as Krill, no matter how hard I tried. He was always Mom's favorite, so now I just don't try anymore. It doesn't even matter to them where I am, but it suits me. Now I got a lot more time to spend with ya!"

Now it was your time to grimace while Lyr flopped onto his side and closer to you, surely noticing the tension growing in your body as you felt appalled by the ever-closing distance. He tossed the bone carelessly into the water while your movements abruptly stopped. You wished it was as easy as the flap of your fin to get away from him, but you were rendered helpless to his touch, unable to get away from his pointed finger dragging over your forearm, his claw teasing your softer skin. He didn't just have the advantage of size, but you knew that no matter how haggard he might appear, you'd be no match against him in a scuffle. Much less now that you were trapped.

And your growling stomach wasn't helping.

While you let out an exasperated groan, Lyr laughed loudly about your misery, finding your dependency on him to not starve hilarious. As much as you despised being at his mercy, you had no choice but to humor him if you wanted to survive, even when he enjoyed your reluctant behavior so much that he held his stomach aching from laughter. 

"You could have just told me you're hungry!" he teased, grinning from ear to ear at you while you gave him an ashamed glare, staying silent as a stone in your spot, belly-down in the sand. "I don't mind sharing, ya know? There's still so much of this yummy seal left, it would be a shame to give it to the fish. You know what you gotta do to earn it, right?"

Gritting your teeth, you watched the smugness wash over his expression as he sent you into yet another predicament. You even considered eating a heap of sand instead of bowing to his will. As if being trapped wasn't enough, he just had to exploit you at every chance he got, and you hated how easily your survival instinct made these reckless decisions for you, which he'd never let you live down. The hole in your stomach didn't get any smaller. Lyr's last visit had been a few days already, and you were in no condition to hunt efficiently for yourself. So aside from small, stupid fish that came too close to you, you hadn't eaten outside of his visits, and it was starting to show. 

You knew what you had to do. Unfortunately.

No matter how much your brain screamed at you not to, your body knew it instinctively, propping itself onto your forearms while you sighed inwardly, feeling defeated by your needs. Moving was the hardest part about being caught in a net. It was an unusual heavy net with clunky weights that had slung around your fin and lower body, dragging you to the ground where Lyr had found you. Even he had been surprised by the sturdiness of this net when he first inspected it but quickly had taken advantage of the situation, dragging you to this much more hidden place and out of plain sight so he had you all to himself. At least he didn't kill you; that's what you told yourself. But death was more merciful than Lyr, that much you knew by now. 

He had no problem being patient when it meant watching you struggle as you dragged yourself toward him. Lyr didn't even mind you digging your meager claws into his skin when you grabbed onto him, using his body to support yourself while you lifted off the ground, close enough to feel his watery breath ghost against your face. Placing your lips over his, you flinched away in reluctance before forcing yourself to keep going, counting to three this time before twisting your head to the side. 

Lyr hummed, sounding dissatisfied as you felt his hand brush up your spine. Nesting his palm at the nape of your neck, you refused to look forward again until he twisted his own head to find your lips, his much sharper, much more dangerous claws only curling into place the second he got what he wanted. Now, with an appreciative chortle, he relished in stealing another kiss, tongue swiping over your pursed lips until he found a hole in your defense, worming into your mouth. 

You were no stranger when it came to mating habits, but compared to your fellow dolphins, Lyr was surprisingly gentle. He relished in your defiance but seemed to enjoy enticing little moans and gasps from you just as much. His tongue was a choking hazard in a mouth that wasn't fit to house it. Though you had gills, you could barely concentrate on breathing while you fought against him as best as you could. Still, he took his sweet time exploring every inch, letting air flow out of his mouth and into yours, never not considering you while doing what he wanted. He even softened his hold on you, rubbing his palms down your back in a spine-tingling motion when you stopped struggling against him. It was almost like he was rewarding you for good behavior, and it was sickeningly pleasurable.

But the taste of flesh and blood lingering on his tongue made your stomach growl, your body eagerly moving towards him, hoping to find food. All you gained was a chuckle before he nicked your lower lip with his sharp teeth in warning. Your fangs probably wouldn't be able to bite through his thick tongue, but despite this weird obsession he had with you, he was almost more wary of you than you of him. It seemed like he could never cut himself loose completely despite having nothing to fear from an easy target like you. He seemed so relaxed and unbothered whenever he visited you, but it was almost as if he was plagued by invisible ghosts whispering into his ears. 

Despite his warning, you found his arms wrapping around your body, pulling you on top of him before you two rolled over to the other side, Lyr resting you gently down in the sand. He didn't care that the net that had trapped you to the ocean floor also got dragged over his tail, unbothered by possibly getting stuck like you were. Perhaps he simply didn't mind that thought as much as you did. To be fair, considering he was much stronger and the material had yet to wrap around and get stuck on his fins like it had with yours, it posed no threat to the orca. And yet, it was infuriating to you, who wanted nothing more than to swim away and reunite with your own kind. 

Propping his arm in the sand next to your head, he looked down at you with a satisfied smile and a mischievous spark in his eyes but reached over you, grabbing a piece of seal meat. He brought it up to your lips, dabbing it against them, though you refused to open for him. "I can feed myself just fine," you reminded him, wiggling your hands in the air to demonstrate your ability to hold things before trying to take the food from him.

"Now, don't be ungrateful, or I'll bring you a turtle shell to gnaw on next time."

You could feel your face contort in disgust at his suggestion, reluctantly parting your lips to nib at the food dangling in front of your face. Once you had a taste of meat, your body couldn't resist, gobbling up every last bite hungrily while Lyr kept providing it for you with a smile. If he wasn't fast enough, your teeth would drag over his fingers, but he wouldn't even flinch or scold you, his fin slapping against the sand instead, almost as if he enjoyed your nibbles. 

Seal wasn't your preferred food, but in times of food scarcity—like it has ever since getting holed up with Lyr—it was as good as any. The rest of the carcass was devoured faster than your excited stomach wanted, and you still didn't feel satisfied after eating every last piece. Had you been free, you'd have gone hunt for more without a moment of rest. But the gnawing hunger had subsided at least, and if Lyr came back again soon, you'd at least not have to endure it for too long until the next meal. 

Pausing your thoughts, you realized you had just longed for Lyr to provide for you again soon, immediately turning the hunger into nausea as you pondered on it. 

You were too quiet, too long for his taste as he sought out your lips again after your meal. Brushing his thumb over them, your instinct mistook his finger for more food. You could barely stop yourself from biting into his gnarly claw as the urge to eat won over again. However, your mouth was open long enough as realization dawned on you of what you were doing, for him to cup your face instead, turning it slightly to him so his tongue could lick over your lips and dip in again. Lyr hummed merrily as he tasted the seal on you, unashamed, unbothered by you struggling to keep him out, fingers wrapping around his throat—unsuccessful in deterring him. He was waiting for your breath to run out before taking the chance to deepen the kiss again, ever so patient with you. 

"I think I get it now," he mumbled, breaking the kiss before leaving some more superficial brushes of his lips against yours. "Nerrocan was onto something. We just didn't know it."

"Why didn't you go with him then?" you mumbled back, turning your face away to avoid any more unwanted affection, even if it meant resting it in his palm. 

To your surprise, Lyr scoffed loudly, and you flinched away as you could feel his mood shift. His palm didn't grow stiff and rigid. However, you still forced yourself away from it, too afraid he might—possibly on accident, but much more likely intentionally—rake his claws over your face, leaving wounds deep and painful. It was useless, however, as he used the same hand to collect your floating hair instead, forcing you to look at him while his gaze drilled into you with fury swirling in his eyes. 

"Listen, I might not remember how we got to that place, but I know all the shit they did to us!" 

You whimpered as he pulled your hair back, your neck struggling to keep up with his demands from your position. Lyr took a sharp breath, pausing the angry flashing of his fangs as he watched you cowering in front of him, ever so slightly calming down at the sight of fear flashing in your eyes. You hated him when he mocked you and also when he was delighted in your suffering. But you hated his anger more, his haggard body still crushing and his fangs and claws sharp despite whatever he went through. One bite into your throat, and you were a goner, especially with how exposed the soft flesh was to him now.

"I'll never go back there! Never! They cut us open, prod inside us with their disgusting hands, and inject strange fluids into me! They… They changed us. Changed me. And now I don't even know–"

His hand was trembling in your hair as he let out a shuddering breath. You caught his eyes for only a split second, watching the brilliant purple turn into mushy darkness. Lyr shook his head as if confused while his voice trailed off, his free hand rising as he hid his face from you for a moment. You weren't sure if you were supposed to say anything, and even if, what could you say to that? You had no idea what he's been through, and even though you had your fair share of struggles in your life, you never experienced something quite as dramatic as he described. Then again, why would you try to comfort him? Lyr was perfectly able to help you in your time of need but had refused cutting the net for you again and again. Why would you give him kindness if he refused to do the same for you?

Being free of his attention, your eyes fell lower on his body. Just shy of where your tail rested over his. With his tail flipped over, you had a clear view of his collapsed dorsal fin, a pitiful sight for any creature like you. It made you think that something was wrong with him in the first place, as this was an unusual sight on any of your kinds. If what he said was true, maybe this experience had done this to him, understandably so, as it sounded awful. You couldn't bring yourself not to pity him despite your negative feelings towards him. 

Next to you, Lyr took a deep breath, pushing his short hair out of his face before he searched for your gaze. Desperately. Needy. Somewhere to ground him. You weren't sure what you saw in the darkened violet, but his features looked drained of vitality, as if the moment of silence had exhausted him completely. It made him look… vulnerable. But then he smiled again, his eyes lit up, and the strange feelings swirling in his irises were covered by excitement as he found yours, soaking in the sight before him.

"I really do get it now," he admitted, grin parting his lips, revealing his protruding upper left fang, the sharpest of them all. "I was so confused about the strange looks Nerrocan gave the human, but I realize I've been the same with ya—whatever it means. I keep coming back here just to see you. I want to stay right here with you, forever. Just us two. I'll hunt for us and make this cave pretty. Whatcha think, lil' dolphin?" 

"N-No, I don't think that will work," you mumbled, averting your eyes again as his gaze became too intense to keep up the eye contact. He seemed to drill into you as if to excavate your soul and lay it bare for him to tease and enjoy. You didn't like it one bit when he looked at you so intensely. 

You could tell by now that he was working himself into another ramble, but you didn't like how much it focused around you. Usually, he was complaining about his situation in his pod and how much his mom hounded him with expectations. Lately, his rants focused more on the human and Nerrocan and the waves their arrival and disappearance caused in their family. But while he was always strange when it came to you, being the sole focus of his attention felt uncomfortable. 

"I'm not sure I understand, but my pod is probably searching for me, and I've been away for so long already. They probably miss me terribly! If- If only I could get the net off, I wouldn't have to bother you at all! I'd be gone before you know it, and you wouldn't have to look after me! I'd be fine! Maybe you can try cutting it again with your claws, or… or maybe--"

Lifting your torso from the ground, you grabbed the net at its highest point, tugging at it and trying to loosen it up. You realized it was you who was rambling this time, but the conversation had taken a turn that you didn't want to make reality at all cost. You couldn't imagine yourself being this guy's pretty little cave warmer for all eternity, preferring the roughness of your own kind over his madness. Orcas weren't known to be gentle housemakers, no matter how much Lyr tried to sell it to you. Not even when he handled you gently, yet never did what you wanted. 

However, you were surprised when he reached down to the net, yanking at it with you. A yelp escaped you as he pulled your tail over his, the net cutting into your flesh painfully as he twisted and pulled until you had to fold up your tail, getting more and more caught. Nets usually weren't as much of a problem to sirens, but this one was sturdier and heavier than any fishing net you had encountered in your long life. 

So when Lyr caught your hands in it, you began to panic. 

"Wait! I'm getting wrapped up in it! Please stop, this isn't helping!" Your plea was ignored as Lyr slung the grating material over your wrists a few more times, ignoring your thrashing and panic with the calm of someone who had all the time in the world. Who had nothing to fear, especially not you. Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to make him understand you wanted to get out of the net and not strung up in it more until he was done messing with you, flipping you over and pulling you close against him.

"That's not what I meant," you sobbed as he rested his head on top of yours, only cushioned by the arm he lent you as a headrest. 

"Isn't this so much better?" he asked, feigning innocence. But you couldn't believe his audacity to make you even more miserable. It was as if he wanted to make you as miserable as he was. "This way, you can't leave without my help. And I doubt your little pod will find you here."

"I just want to go home," you mumbled, anger slowly overtaking as the panic subsided. Your hands were bound tightly, your fin being the one hurting when you tried to lift them and vice versa. You felt truly trapped, and that made you angry rather than sad. It was strange, considering how, just a few minutes ago, you had almost pitied this male, but now, all you felt was rage.

"It's your home, now. Our home. We'll live here, unbothered by others. Just the two of us."

"It's not my home! Let me go!" you snapped, lips pulled back in a snarl. Dolphins were by far not the scariest predators, but your teeth were sharp and threatening as well! 

Or so you thought.

Lyr laughed at your display of a threat, seemingly amused that you were still fighting him. Without warning, he raised his hand to your face, squeezing both sides of your jaw until the pressure forced you to open it, and stuck his pointer and middle finger inside. He only needed these two to press your tongue down, your mouth wide agape with his claws scarily close to the back of your throat. You tried to close your jaw, bite down until he'd retract his hand, but Lyr didn't care. He didn't even mind your teeth digging into his flesh, leaving cute little cuts against his slick skin. 

"Careful, lil' dolphin. You're not in a position to make such scary demands of me, don't you know that already? I could kill ya." 

Unafraid of getting hurt, the pressure on your lower jaw increased, fingers purposely impaling themselves on your teeth while pain made you jolt as you felt your jaw dislodging slowly. You wiggled your trapped body, gurgling against his fingers before finally looking up at him as best as possible from your position, noticing the smug grin on his face. 

"I won't, of course."

Pulling his fingers out of your mouth, dragging out the motion until the last moment, you coughed, the taste of his blood on your tongue. There was no time to recover as Lyr nuzzled his face into the side of yours, oblivious to the thrumming in your jaw as you tried to relax it while the blood flow resumed. 

"You're too much fun alive, so I won't kill you," he admitted, grabbing your hands that rested against your chest and pulling them down, elevating some of the strain on your tail, and you finally breathed out. "But if you want to get rid of the net, maybe we can find a way to make this even more fun?"

You felt his lips sink to your cheek, your jawline, then trailing down your neck. A kiss for every one of your gills. The water around you was gentle and warm, but at that moment, it was like jumping into the ice-cold ocean after sunbathing on the surface, shocking and shivering through every bone of yours. 

While the arm your head rested on wrapped around your collarbones, holding on to your shoulder, the other hand started to wander lower. His fingers played around with the net, cutting through some of the squares until he could stick his hand through it, placing his palm on your stomach before sinking it dangerously low and pulling your hands down with it. So you wouldn't be able to grasp his arm on top, trying to make him stop as Lyr nibbled on your earlobe, the protruding fang drawing blood that he licked up without hesitation.

"Stop that!" you complained as his touch grew uncomfortably intimate, the pain in your jaw reverberating as you spoke. It had long dawned on you what his definition of 'fun' was, but you weren't as naive as to believe he'd actually stick to his word and cut you loose after getting what he wanted. It was better not to risk it than risk it for nothing. Your kind wasn't known to be gentle to their chosen lovers, but you never thought about mating with an orca. It wasn't normal! Wasn't what you were made to do! And if you were to survive it… you didn't want to think of the carnage that all of him would leave behind on your body. 

If his size was any indication, you were sure you couldn't take him without getting absolutely ruined in the process—and not the pleasurable kind of destroyed. More the ripped apart and bleeding out type. 

His hand found your slit, fingertip brushing lightly yet incessantly over it, leaving a tingling trail in its wake. You whimpered, ashamedly so, but instead of the expected mockery, you felt his chest rumble, a purr reaching your ears. It was soothing, relaxing, his body warming you from behind even as you desperately tried to deny feeling anything from his touch. 

But Lyr wasn't stingy with his surprises.

A chirp so oddly familiar resounded behind you, yet you were sure you had never heard that voice before. It took you a moment of complete stillness to realize it had been Lyr making that sound, yet it wasn't orca. It was dolphin. "How did you…?" you gasped, ignoring his inquisitive fingers prodding at your entrance, begging to be let in without having to use force.

"There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, lil' dolphin," he hummed, imitating some more whistles and clicks that were perfect and comforting, like the calls of your pod, yet were spoken by an uncanny voice. You felt the tears well up in our eyes again, as you couldn't help but gasp, following it with a moan, his finger slipping into you, teasing the soft, warm flesh awaiting him there. Lyr let out an appreciative sound that made your core clench with desire, all praise and all dolphin for letting him in. 

"You don't even like me," you gasped, hands wringing in the net. You were completely and utterly caught in this trap, and he had free range to your body while slowly gaining access to your very soul by imitating your own kind's calls of desire and adoration. Lyr's mouth pulled taut in a big grin as he felt you unwillingly relax and shudder in his arms, your tail buckling into his hand. You looked up to see the madness dance with satisfaction and need in his eyes before he leaned down to kiss you.

"That's where you're wrong, lil' dolphin," he chuckled, kissing you one more time, long and with relish, his fingers playing with you, adding one after the other as you loosened up to him, exploring the depths not meant for an orca.

"I like you very, very much."

[whoishotteranimepolls]

Fandom Observation Nicknames and Funny Tags: Part Jujutsu Kaisen

To add to my fandom behaviors and trends series. I thought it would share some of the funny or slutty nicknames some of the fandoms have given to their characters because trust me some had me laugh out loud and deserve more attention due to the creativity. Not just the nicknames. The tags have also been something to behold. But just in case that's not your thing, I did put a break in the post so expand at your own risk

Now let me make myself perfectly clear this is not meant to shame or call anyone out. I am genuinely impressed with the creativity and you guys made me laugh. So again in my opinion these were too good just to be lost in the tags or in the anonymous messages, several you sent me.

So, let's start with Jujutsu Kaisen because that fandom is the best when it comes to nicknames and absolutely hilarious tags. So here are some of my favorites and they have at least one for every character

Kento Nanami: The Linkedin Daddy, The eldest daughter's dream man, " When you're tired of trying to fix him and now want a man that can fix you", The malewife, "The smutty wolf of Wall Street," "A man that could make a housewife out of anyone", Nanami 'i break walls with creeps and kneel for women' Kento," & Corporate Bae.

Gojo: "The unstable himbo", Everything the youngest child has ever dreamed of, The I could fix him (no one can fix him), A little freak affectionate

Geto: The "mentally ill genocidal pookie", "a DILF that fathered so hard he mothered", The middle child's dream man, & Precious baby girl who has done nothing wrong in their entire life (has literally committed terrorism and murder), "my princess with disorders."

Toji Fushiguro: "A horrible father that just happens to be unreasonably hot", Darling dirtbag, Extra wide blorbo, Precious beef cake, it would be worth the STD, hear me out the worm offers some interesting possibilities, my precious darling deadbeat, babygirl, The things I would let him do to me,

Choso: "His sunken eyes and depressed swag have captivated me", my little emo boy, "he is a beautiful angel and i want to sit on his face until he drowns in my p**** juice", pookie, big handsome kitty, baby daddy, mr. rideable nose, 150 y/o virgin.

Mahito: A "beloved princess with a disorder", "When you just want to freak who's objectively a monster"

Sukuna: "When you're down for atrocities", I might not survive but it would be worth it & Four armed daddy,

Yuki Tsukumo: "My tall and buff queen", & dommy mommy with a motorcycle.

I think everyone can tell the fandom favorites and if I see any more in the future I will add them. But I hope at least someone gets a laugh out of these and thank you to the people who put these nicknames or phrases in the comments, tags and multiple anonymous messages received.

And just in case you're feeling called out JJK fandom this is just part 1 of a series. I have multiple other fandoms posts started in the draft box

[jasmines-library]

No Escape

WHUMPTOBER 2023 DAY FIVE: prompt: pinned down/debris.

Fandom: The lost boys.

Summary: After a storm leaves the vampires stranded in the cave, things get heated between you. You decide to retreat into the cave, needing some separation from the boys; but the storm has other ideas to take that separation further when part of the cave collapses.

Warnings: blood, gore, being crushed, vampire turning.

Word count: 1.6k

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

The rain hammered loudly against the roof of the cave. It trickled through the cracks trailing downhill before tumbling off the edges, splattering at the entrance and creating its very own curtain of water. The waves thundered against the cliff, a churning wall of white water as the wind howled and the sky grumbled angrily.

The storm had brought the five of you indoors, having left the boardwalk early you were now all milling around the cave. Paul and Marko had resorted to flicking small stones at their dark haired counterpart who was circling the old water fountain on his skateboard. You sat besides them, watching the night sky ignite as lightning pillared down towards the ground.

“I don’t like the sound of this storm.” David huffed out through a puff of his cigarette. He was perched atop of the old wheelchair he treated like a throne.

“It’s the worst I’ve seen in a while.” You agreed.

Santa Carla was always nice during the summer, but you couldn’t say the same for when winter began to roll around.

Marko laughed. “Oh babe, you ain’t seen nothing yet.” He reached around and pushed you playfully on your shoulder. “You would have loved that big one back in ‘39?”

You were still a half. Still half human. And the boys liked to make it known.

“Of course, if you decided to join us now, you would be able to see these things with us.”

“We agreed-“

Paul rolled his eyes and whined. “We know what we agreed babe, but it’s just so much more exciting to have you now.”

“Seriously? Is that all I am to you?”

“Y/N, come on doll that’s not what he meant-“ Marko interrupted.

“Well it’s what he said.”

Dwayne placed a careful hand on your shoulder and gave it a squeeze, steering you back towards the group, but what came out of his mouth wasn’t what you were expecting from him. “Relax a little Y/N. It’s okay to have fun once in a while.

You pushed away from him agape and scoffed, before turning away briskly and venturing down one of the caves' many tunnels to seek refuge away from the boys. You could hear them calling after you, though none of them made any move to chase after you.

“Y/N, come on. We’re sorry-”

You ignored their calls and half arsed attempts at an apology, and stormed further away into the cave, towards your own room.

The boys looked at David, who shrugged nonchalantly. “Her loss.” Before taking another long drag of his cigarette.

~~~

As the night began to draw old, the storm had begun to get worse. The cave groaned loudly as the rain continued its heavy pelt against the cliff. Despite your walkman blaring your favourite mixtape loudly in your ears, you could still hear the raucous of your boys in the main cave.

You didn’t want to be mad at them, not really, but balancing life as a half was hard; and something that they had long forgotten. you were constantly tired having to balance day and night, your joints ached in ways that you never imagined, and worst of all was the hunger that was imminent, always there in the back of your mind like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

You pushed yourself up from your bed and began to make your way back down the winding network of tunnels when thunder ricocheted across the caverns. The whole cave shook.

A sea of small pebbles began to trickle down the walls. Shit. The cave trembled as it began to give way. Your feet slapped against the uneven floor as you tried to weave away from the collapsing roof. There was a loud crackle as one of the old beams began to splinter. You pushed forwards, but your human legs wouldn’t allow you to move fast enough. This began to get worse when you foot caught on a piece of debris, sending you spit king to the floor. And that was when the beam gave way, hurtling stacks of rock towards your helpless body.

~~~

The vampires had drifted into their own activities when they heard it; a fateful crash that echoed around the cave’s walls.

Dwayne’s head perked up from the book he was scanning though, though he hadn’t really been paying much attention to the words that were printed on the page. His mind was too occupied thinking about you. So, naturally your name was the first thing that fell from his lips when he heard the tumbling of the rocks.

He was up in his feet in an instant, racing towards your bedroom. His brothers were hot on his heels. They didn’t have to go far before they smelt it. Sweet and fresh. Blood. Your blood.

“Y/n…” Marko muttered as he stumbled upon the collapse of debris.

All four of their hearts, had they still been beating, would have stopped right there and then.

You were pinned, flat on your back, under a blanket of rubble and parts of the wooden beam which had failed to do its job. The blood they could see was coming from your temple, it dribbled into your hair from where your head hung back, and from your nose. The impact had left you with a nasty set of vertigo too.

David swallowed thickly. He could also smell the blood he couldn’t see. The thin sheen of blood that appeared in the bruises that consumed your body. Blood that crept into your lungs and out of your organs. He could tell that the others could smell it too from their paler than usual complexions.

“Get it off her.” He barked, moving towards the debris.

The four of them made fast work of removing the smaller pieces. Your eyes were closed, but David could hear you struggling for breath; the wheezing in your chest was far from pleasant to listen to.

The larger pieces on top of you were harder to move. Despite their vampiric strength, it was still a task to move and they didn’t want to risk moving anything without knowing the extent of your injuries first. Dwayne, who was the closest thing to a doctor that they had access to (even though that wasn’t very close), had told them that if anything was lodged in your body, it was best to keep it in there to stop you bleeding out .

Paul patted your face, turning your head gently in his hands. “Y/N? Baby. Please wake up. You have to wake up.”

The vampires watched your face, frowning when you. They tried again. Still nothing. That was when David ran a fingernail along the length of his wrist. The scent of his blood had your eyes flickering open within seconds, though as soon as your body regained consciousness, you were hit with a blinding, consuming pain.

“Doll?” The curly haired boy asked.

You could do nothing but whimper in response.

“Baby, I need you to tell us where it hurts the most.”

“Everywhere.” You cried out through gritted teeth. “Please.. make it stop.”

Dwayne felt tears prick his eyes as he moved towards you, stroking your hair. “We will baby, but we can’t help unless you tell us. Please… you have to try.”

“Right thigh.” You grunted out, “stomach…”

He nodded knowingly.

With each of their hands gripped firmly around the edges of the debris, they hauled the piece away. You screamed as the movement shifted your body, and the release of pressure made the pain intensify. Luckily, there seemed to be no puncture wound, though the way that your leg was bent screamed to them that your femur was definitely broken.

Your chest gurgled as your tried to suck in air greedily, but it left you doubled over in a coughing fit. Marko froze at the blood that coaxed your hand when you pulled away. It stained your teeth red and had a coppery taste against your tongue. Whimpering, you eased yourself back down.

Paul stoked your hair gently, whispering tender reassurances into your ear as he looked up uncertainly to the other three who stood watching you shell shocked from various places within the small space.

When your eyes began to feel heavy, there was a pinch against your skin as Marko rushed to your side.

“Don’t you go falling asleep on me babe. The night is still young.”

Had you not been in agony, you would have chucked at his remark. The night was actually in fact, very old, and Marko wished that he could just screw his eyes shut and wake up where all of this was just a dream. Your out of beat heart wouldn’t let him forget that though.

“Y/n?” David asked.

“Hm?” Even the noise you made was laced with pain.

“Please.. let us help you. Turning you will let your heal quicker and-“

David cut himself off, watching you anxiously. You were struggling to breath now; in a pained state, your chest heaved quickly. White spots tickled the edge of your vision as you tried to plaster your eyes open, but the pain was much duller where it was darker. The darkness allowed you to let go of everything, to stop feeling full stop, so you gave in, but not before mumbling out a reply.

~~~

“Do it.” The command was barely a whisper, pushed out across dry lips. But all four of them heard it, nonetheless.

“David?” Paul freaked when your body slumped even more into his lap.

“Go.” He turned to Marko and Dwayne. “Find her something. Anything.”

The listened to your heartbeat slow, listened to the blood pumping around your body being to cease.

“She hasn’t got much time left.”

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY FOUR ⛤ DAY SIX ->

🏷️ Taglist:

@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

[silenzahra]

🥰 for the writing prompt? Writer's choice!

Referring to this post ✨

This fic was loooong overdue! I am really sorry to have kept you waiting for so long, but I hope it was worth the wait! 🙏

Thank you sooooo much for sending me this prompt! It has truly melted my heart to work on this idea 🥺 I really hope you like it! 💖

Are you ready for some brotherly fluff? 🤭💚❤️

Here's the link to AO3 in case you'd rather read it there! ✨

Wordless Love

When Luigi arrives home, Mario still hasn't returned.

Luigi sighs and closes the door behind him. The pipes in the castle really must be clogged. He wonders if he should come to his brother's aid, but he knows that, if Mario needed his help, he would have called him.

Besides, this gives Mario and Peach a chance to spend some more time together.

With a somewhat amused smile, Luigi leaves the toolbox on the entrance cabinet and hangs his hat on the rack. He's feeling very tired after a long day of single-handedly serving his Brooklyn clients, and all he feels like doing is taking a shower, grabbing a quick dinner, and going to bed.

But he can't go to sleep without Mario. Even though he knows his big brother is safe and sound in Princess Peach's castle, Luigi needs Mario to, at least, be home so he can fall asleep.

So he heads to the bathroom and takes a fast, but warm and relaxing shower. When he finishes, and since Mario isn’t home yet, Luigi opts to leave everything ready to make dinner later and goes out into the garden.

It's cool, as autumn is coming to the Mushroom Kingdom, but that doesn't stop him. Luigi smiles as he walks through his small garden, the one he has cultivated with so much care and attention since he and Mario moved there. He looks closely at each plant, each flower, and makes sure to irrigate the ones that need some water. He talks to each and every one of them, tells them how beautiful they are that night, and quietly sings a little song during his walk. He also makes sure to check that the automatic watering system he installed with Mario's help is still working perfectly, and smiles to himself, satisfied, after verifying that it is.

These flowers, this garden, are his pride and joy. Every day he’s more and more happy for the good fortune of having a small corner in which to raise his favorite flowers. When he lived in Brooklyn he had to make do with a couple of flowerpots, but, in the Mushroom Kingdom, there’s room for all the plants in the world. So, without a second thought, Luigi transplanted his first two flowers and, since then, he’s grown many more.

And now his beloved garden looks beautiful in broad daylight as well as under the faint, bright glow of the full moon. Each flower has a particular beauty and scent, and Luigi has learned to recognize each one by its fragrance before he even sees them.

When he re-enters the house, he realizes that he has spent a whole hour outside, walking among his plants and singing to them. However, just as he closes the garden door behind him, the front door, which is opposite him on the other side of the living room, opens at last.

“Mario!” he exclaims as soon as he sees him enter, and runs towards him. “You’re back!”

Before his brother has time to drop his tools or close the door behind him, Luigi pounces on him. Mario lets out a loud laugh of surprise and staggers back a little at his impetus but does not hesitate to return his brother's embrace with the same heartiness.

“Yeah, I’m back,” he mumbles, laughing, as he pats Luigi’s back.

They smile at each other as they part, happy to be together again. Luigi takes Mario’s hat from him and hangs it on the rack next to his.

“Looks like there was a lot of work at the castle today, right?” he says meanwhile.

“Oh, you just can’t imagine!” Mario exclaims, dropping his tools any which way on the entrance cabinet. “I think we’d better go together next time. We’ll simply postpone all the appointments we have with our Brooklyn customers.”

Smiling, Luigi carefully sets each tool in its place inside the toolbox he’s been carrying all day.

“I thought about coming to help you,” he admits, “but I didn’t know if you’d be... busy.”

He wonders if Mario will understand what he’s referring to, if he'll catch the hidden meaning beneath that one word, but he senses he'll have to keep that joke to himself.

“Busy?” Mario looks at him with a raised eyebrow, confused. “What do you mean by that?”

Luigi lets out a low chuckle as he places the last tool.

“It’s nothing, don’t mind me,” he says, amused, and grabs Mario’s hand to lead him to the kitchen. “Come on! Are you hungry? How about I make you a lasagna?”

“Lasagna?” Mario repeats, his face suddenly lighting up like a lighthouse in the middle of the darkest night. “But of course! What kind of question is that?”

Luigi lets out a chuckle, cheerful and touched in equal parts. His brother will never change, and Luigi adores him more and more every day for that.

Amid jokes and laughter, the brothers enter the kitchen. Luigi, after putting on his green apron with a pattern of orange flowers, starts cooking immediately, and Mario, instead of sitting down, stands next to him and passes him the ingredients and utensils needed to prepare the lasagna. In the meantime, he tells Luigi how his day has been, as they separated in the morning to go to work in different places, and explains how difficult it was to unblock all the pipes in the castle. Then, always ready to listen to him, Mario asks Luigi how his day has been, but Luigi, more focused on the cooking, shrugs and quickly summarizes what has been a very normal working day for him.

“And how’s Peach?” he asks casually as they wait for the lasagna to be ready. “How did things go with her?”

“Just as usual.” This time it’s Mario who shrugs, but Luigi doesn’t fail to notice that a slight blush is now covering his brother’s cheeks. “You know her. She’s very... kind and sweet. Just as usual,” he repeats, looking away.  

Luigi covers his mouth with his hand to hide a giggle. He would love to hear more, to encourage Mario to tell him more about those feelings that have undoubtedly blossomed in his heart after meeting the beautiful princess, but Luigi doesn't insist. He knows his brother so well that he’s convinced he will open up when the time comes, when he feels ready, and Luigi wouldn't want to pressure him for anything in the world.

It doesn't take long for the lasagna to be ready at last. As he does every night, Luigi serves his brother first, and smiles at the keenness with which Mario takes the first bite. As he sits down, his plate already full, he notices his brother's satisfied expression, and the soft "Mmm!" Mario emits as he chews causes Luigi’s smile to widen.

“My goodness, Luigi,” Mario exclaims admiringly. “Your cooking gets better every day!”

Luigi blushes and laughs nervously.

“Th-thank you,” he stammers, embarrassed, before starting to eat too.

During dinner, however, Luigi realizes something that makes him uneasy: his brother is tired. More than him, even. Luigi knows this because Mario, who usually talks non-stop between bites, remains silent this time, just centered on savoring the lasagna, a clear indication that his energy has diminished considerably since he came back home. Luigi sees it in his eyelids, which appear somewhat droopy, no doubt exhausted and eager to close until the next day. Luigi senses it in the slowness with which Mario gradually puts the food into his mouth. Still, every time their eyes meet, Mario gives him warm smiles and makes sure to keep telling him how delicious he finds the lasagna.

Luigi loves to cook and always feels flattered that his brother so enthusiastically enjoys the dishes he lovingly prepares for him.

But tonight there is something more important.

Tonight is not just about having dinner with Mario and spending some quality time with him before going to bed, but also about taking care of his exhausted older brother.

“Come on,” he says as he gets up, once they’ve both finished dessert. “How about I run you a hot bath to help you relax?”

Mario smiles, and his grin, although full of affection as always, is also a true reflection of the fatigue that plagues him from within.

“I’d love that, Lu.”

Determined, Luigi begins to pick up the dishes, but, when he’s about to start washing them, meaning to do it quickly so that he can take care of Mario, he senses some fingers on his shoulder that make him turn around. He meets again his brother’s sweet smile, who reaches out his other hand to take the plate that Luigi had grabbed.

“I’ll wash them,” Mario offers.

“Oh, no, that’s not necessary,” Luigi refuses, worried that Mario’s tiredness will increase.

“I insist, Lu.” Mario, unwilling to surrender, gives him a gentle and playful hip thrust to softly push him away. “You made dinner. It’s only fair.”

Luigi knows Mario's determined expression too well to know there's no point in trying to stop him. Defeated, he agrees to step away from the kitchen sink with a resigned sigh and watches his brother with a hand on his hip.

“All right, you win,” he concedes, at which Mario’s smile widens. “I’ll go draw your bath.”

Mario nods with a chuckle as he does the dishes, and Luigi takes off his apron, which he had inadvertently left on during dinner, and goes into the bathroom. The first thing he does is close the door and turn on the heater to warm up the room. After putting the plug in the bathtub, he turns on the hot water faucet first and lets the tub fill up a bit before turning on the cold, but not too much. He wants the water to be hot and to last like that long enough for Mario's muscles to relax after today's hard work.

In the meantime, he hangs Mario's bathrobe on the rack next to the tub and places a small towel on a stool in case his brother wants to wash his hair. Luigi also prepares the shampoo, soap and sponge, and puts them on top of the towel so that Mario can reach them from inside the bathtub. He takes the hairdryer out of the cupboard where they keep it and carefully sets it in a corner of the sink, because he knows that Mario does not like to go to bed with wet hair, so he will need it if he decides to wash his head. Luigi quickly leaves the bathroom to go to his bedroom for a moment: he hurriedly opens the top drawer of the dresser they share, takes out Mario's favorite pajamas and returns to the bathroom at lightning speed. He then pours some soothing bath salts into the water and places a towel on the floor, in front of the tub, so that Mario won't slip.

Finally, satisfied with his work, Luigi turns off the faucet, switches off the heater and goes out into the hallway in search of his brother.

“The bath is ready!” he announces with an exaggerated flourish as he enters the kitchen.

Mario laughs, giving him an amused look, and puts the last plate away on the sideboard before following him. Although the bathroom is very close to the kitchen, Luigi guides his brother as if they were inside one of those old mansions with an infinite number of corridors and rooms and opens the door with a graceful bow.

“I hope you find it to your liking, sir,” he says, modifying his voice so that it sounds deep.

Mario lets out a chuckle again but puts his shoulders back and places both hands behind his back as he walks past Luigi into the bathroom.

“Very warm and cozy, butler,” he replies, imitating his brother’s tone.

Luigi, still bent over and with his arm outstretched, is forced to cover his mouth with his other hand to contain the snort that was about to escape from his throat. However, when he straightens up, his laughter is stifled by the tender look, full of gratitude, that Mario, standing in front of him, throws at him.

Then Mario reaches out and wraps an arm around his neck to pull him close, giving him a quick squeeze in which their cheeks squish against the other’s. The moment is so fleeting that Luigi does not have time to raise his arm to reciprocate the gesture of his brother, who, a second before releasing him, turns his head to place a quick kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you, Lu,” he says, his voice full of warmth. “It’s just what I needed.”

Luigi's heart beats a little faster, full of bliss, and a touched smile blooms on his face as the blood rushes to his cheeks. Despite the fact that Mario showers him in affection quite often, Luigi just can’t help blushing. Inside him, tenderness and emotion intermingle with a certain embarrassment that makes him feel bashful, as he does not think he deserves so much gratitude. After all, he’s taking care of his brother in the same way Mario has taken care of him and watched over him all his life. That's how they’ve always worked and that's how they will continue to work.

Still, he keeps smiling at Mario, who watches him with his warm grin tattooed on his face as he slowly slides shut the bathroom door. On impulse, when there’s barely a small crack left, Luigi raises his hand and waves it in farewell, and Mario, with a chuckle, reciprocates his gesture immediately.

Luigi sighs, satisfied, when the door finally closes. He’s sure that the bath will do Mario good, so he goes to his room to give his brother some space and privacy. He really hopes it will be to his liking and help him relax.

Once in his bedroom, Luigi feels as if the autumn chill has crept into it through a window. He makes sure all of them are closed and opts to turn on the radiator to warm up the bedroom a bit, especially to keep Mario from getting cold when he finishes his bath. Luigi goes over to his brother's bed, uncovers it and grabs the pillows to soften them a bit, since that's how Mario feels most comfortable. He turns on both nightlights, Mario's red one and his green one, and looks around to make sure everything is in order.

As he stands in the center of the room, Luigi feels a huge wave of exhaustion wash over him. His day has not been as hard as Mario's, but he certainly needs to rest too, although he knows he can't do so until his brother goes to bed as well. He doesn't want to pressure him or interrupt his bath, so Luigi takes his time to tidy up the room a bit, uncover his own bed and put on his pajamas.

Just as he finishes buttoning the top of his green and white striped pajamas, he suddenly remembers something. He almost forgot! He rushes hurriedly out of his room and into the kitchen. Trying to go slowly so as not to break anything with his usual clumsiness, Luigi pulls a glass from the cupboard, fills it with fresh milk and pops it into the microwave.

He’s walking past the bathroom just as the sound of the hairdryer reaches his ears. Luigi sighs in relief, for he knows what that means: his brother will be out in no more than five minutes, so he will find the glass of hot milk waiting for him on his bedside table, where Luigi carefully places it. Satisfied, he picks up the book waiting on his own nightstand and goes to the living room to sit in his rocking chair, where he plans to read while waiting for Mario.

The book is so interesting that it grabs his attention right away, making him lose track of time. When the bathroom door finally opens, Luigi realizes that he has read ten pages almost without blinking. He smiles to himself, for he's loving the story he's reading, and places the bookmark between the pages before looking up.

As he does so, Luigi lets out a little chuckle: his brother, standing in the doorway, has skin almost redder than his pajama top. Mario, hearing him, smiles with resignation.

“I overdid it with the hot water, didn’t I?” he says with a laugh, heading for the bedroom.

“A little,” Luigi replies, amused, going after him.

This time it is Mario who holds the door for him, and Luigi gives him a nod and a chuckle as he enters the room. Gently and smiling, Mario takes the book from his hands and goes to Luigi's bedside table to leave it there, while Luigi, somewhat surprised, closes the door behind him and walks to his bed as well.

After dropping the book, Mario turns to face him. Luigi stops in front of his brother and wonders if, perhaps, Mario wants to tell him something or ask him for something else before going to sleep.

But his brother doesn't utter a word: with a warm smile on his lips, he raises his arms and wraps them around Luigi, resting his chin on his shoulder and placing a hand on the back of his neck to bring him closer. Despite his initial astonishment, Luigi immediately relaxes in his big brother's arms and, with a smile, lifts his arms to wrap them around Mario's waist as he closes his eyes. His brother, patting his back gently and running his fingers through his hair at the back of his neck, lets out a deep and resounding sigh while still hugging him tightly.

“Thank you for always taking care of me, Lu,” he whispers, his lips close to Luigi’s ear.

“Oh.” Luigi lets out a nervous giggle. “You don’t have to thank me, Mario. That’s what brothers do, right?”

Luigi feels him laugh in his arms.

“I’m certainly lucky to have you as a brother.”

Luigi's heart warms up, overwhelmed by a deep emotion. He feels his eyes moisten and he embraces his brother with more strength and affection, hoping, wishing, that his way of hugging him will be enough to let Mario know that he is the one who feels fortunate to have him as his big brother. If he had nothing else, if he were homeless and jobless and could not find anything to eat every day, he would still feel the luckiest man in the world if he still had Mario by his side. He doesn't need anything else to be happy.

They remain like this, embraced, Luigi's hands on Mario's back and waist, Mario's hands on the back of Luigi's neck and back, for a time they cannot, and will not, determine. Wrapped in a warmth that comes from both the radiator and their own hearts, the brothers enjoy those brief moments of peace and safety in each other's arms, in which, without the need for words, they express how much they love the other and how important they are to each other.

With a sigh, Mario begins to pull away from Luigi, very slowly, as if he doesn't really want to, and Luigi understands, for he too is reluctant to end the contact. His brother slides his hand from the back of his neck to his cheek and watches him intensely, his blue eyes glistening with emotion.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

And Luigi knows, with absolute certainty, that Mario is speaking from the heart, as he always does when he expresses his affection towards him, as deep as Luigi's for him. With a heartfelt smile, Luigi raises a hand and places it on Mario's.

“I will always be here for you,” he promises, looking into his eyes.

With tenderness shining in his, Mario widens his smile and carefully begins to gently press Luigi's head down as he does the same. Luigi, knowing what his brother intends, lets himself be guided without hesitation and closes his eyes for a second before their foreheads meet. The sigh they release, in unison, as if they had rehearsed it, is deep, intense, and reflects all the peace and serenity that this touch makes them both feel.

“And I for you, Lu,” Mario answers in a soft whisper.

When, seconds later, they raise their heads, they give each other one last smile, as full of love as all the smiles they’ve shared since the day they were born. Mario caresses his cheek while Luigi gives him a gentle squeeze on the shoulder, and then he softly gasps when, suddenly, he remembers something.

“I almost forgot,” he says with a chuckle as he walks over to Mario’s bedside table.

He carefully takes the glass of milk in his hands and turns to his brother, who beams enthusiastically as he sees what Luigi is offering him.

“Thank you, Lu!” he exclaims, accepting the glass.

Luigi smiles, moved at the eagerness and speed with which Mario drinks the hot liquid. When he finally finishes it, he lets out a sigh of pleasure and Luigi covers his mouth to hold back a giggle, not only because of his brother's satisfied expression, but also because of the spot that glistens under his moustache. Mario looks at him with a raised eyebrow, though he laughs too, and Luigi reaches over to his nightstand for a napkin to wipe his brother's face. The latter lets him do it and they share a last moment of knowing laughter.

Luigi then takes the glass from his brother's hands and goes to the kitchen to wash it. Before leaving the bedroom, he hears Mario drop like a bundle on the mattress, and when he returns, as he expected, he finds him lying on top of the sheets any which way. With a giggle that is both amused and tender, Luigi comes to his side: he slowly pulls back the sheets from under Mario's body and carefully covers him with them. Mario, eyes closed, smiles and snuggles in, and Luigi gently tucks him in and places a kiss on his cheek.

“Good night, Mario,” he whispers. “Sleep well.”

Mario's smile widens and a deep sigh escapes from his lips. Luigi, hoping that his brother will indeed sleep well that night, gives him a gentle caress on his hair before turning off the radiator and heading, at last, to his own bed.

And just as he is about to turn off his lamp, the last light still on in the room, he hears a sleepy, exhausted voice coming from his brother's bed:

“Good night, Lulu.”

[princessfbi]

okey so i need some tv recs for this hiatus 911 fan overall procedure fans i guess that's all the vibe i can think of to ask lol so hit me with your recs

EXCELLENT! So glad you’ve come to me Nonnie. I am honored. This is in no particular order but in terms of general procedurals with similar 911 vibes I’ve got a couple:

1. Sirens

It’s about a paramedic team in Chicago and it’s fucking hilarious. We're talking laugh out loud can still quote it from memory hilarious. There’s two seasons and each episode is about 25 minutes so it’s easy to get through. There is a British counterpart that is also funny but it’s definitely a different tone for sure.

**If you were a fan of Arrow then you'll recognize Josh Segarra

***Also you can scream with me and @lucydonato about the show

2. ER

I always describe 911 to people as ER for first responders. Part of that is because it’s so episodic. It gets really melodramatic at times and there are a LOT of story lines but for the most part the general stakes keep to one episode at a time and the show gives you permission to let things go which is nice. I’m a fan of the earlier seasons as opposed to the later seasons but Angela Bassett is in the last season. Lots of great guest spots and very character driven.

**Characters do die in this show so be aware of MCD warnings. No one is safe in that show. Except maybe Noah Wylie but that's cus it's Noah Wylie.

3. Numb3rs

It’s an awesome crime procedural with a twist on it. The oldest brother, Don, is an FBI agent who has his baby brother, Charlie, help him solve crime using math. This show has all the tropes too. Brother relationship, found family, etc etc.

4. Psych

It’s a procedural with a much lighter tone. Shawn pretends to be psychic and solves crime. It’s chaotic and messy and wonderful and perfect.

**Gives me coming home from the pool and vegging on the couch summer vibes.

5. Castle

On the same side of the coin, it’s another procedural with a twist. Castle is a successful mystery novelist who helps solve crime. Nathan Fillion for those fans of The Rookie and there's a lot powerful female characters in it.

6. Murder, She Wrote

MSW walked so that Castle could run. This is an oldie but a good. Angela Lansbury is a mystery writer who solves crime. It’s super cool knowing that she insisted on hiring a lot of older guest stars so that they could continue to be in the union and get their benefits. Also omg the 80s/90s wardrobe. There's also a couple of episodes with other detectives and crime solvers when Angela started to get tired carrying the weight of quality television on her shoulders.

7. Drop Dead Diva

THIS is such a good law procedural. It has the added bonus as having the same casting director as 911 so you’ll see a lot of familiar faces. But Deb is a model who died and got reincarnated in the body of a plus size lawyer named Jane and it’s the most wonderful little nugget that just existed in its own space. It was SO ahead of it's time on certain issues and it deals with a variety of topics such as body shaming, slut shaming, mental health, etc in such a kind and compassionate and positive way.

**Gives me late summer 'I haven't moved from the couch and omg it's season three' vibes

8. Scorpion

A team of geniuses (with neurodivergent representation in action genre scenarios) who help solve crime and crisis situations for homeland security. Lots of found family feelings! SO MANY! Big time character driven show.

9. White Collar

A white collar criminal agrees to help solve crime with the FBI agent who arrested him. Neal is so whumpable and it's one of the few times I've seen a fandom really embrace the idea of a poly relationship in fanon? Idk I wasn't really in it but the fics I saw all seemed to agree that no one would complain if Peter, Neal, and Elizabeth all lived happily ever after with their golden retriever. NOW, I will say this is a Jeff Eastin show and he has a tendency to take the amazing female characters in the show, throw them in a blender, and then bring them back as Frankenstein's monster bride and act like he didn't just ruin their character and it drives me fucking insane. BUT those first couple of seasons are fantastic.

Ask Me for TV Recs To Get You Through Hiatus

[riverstixxelf]

I love the SPN fandom but honestly it’s so stressful sometimes 😭

For example earlier today I googled “Misha Collins girlfriend” because I heard a rumor that he has a girlfriend, I couldn’t find much besides stuff talking about Vicky so I scrolled down and saw a tumblr post saying something about Misha being attracted to men (which I don’t necessarily disagree with, but I don’t want to tell another person what they are) and women so I clicked on it and it was a huge post (like, a couple paragraphs) talking about some strange things. I don’t remember exactly but at one point the user brought up the “fact” that Misha makes jokes about women and sex?? As in making jokes at the expense of women… and I was like… are we talking about the same Misha here? He DOES make jokes about sex but I don’t recall him ever making jokes at the expense of women. Only thing I can think of is that one story about one of his earlier acting jobs and he didn’t know the “no tongue rule” but that was mostly at the expense of himself. Then I scrolled and found another post that was pretty disturbing…

Someone had screenshotted a regular instagram caption that Jensen posted just talking about how he just got done traveling, he wanted to take a nap, something like that—nothing sexual about the post at all or anything that would suggest that—and someone captioned it with something talking about him and Misha rubbing their [babymakers] together??? I audibly laughed out loud because wtf 😭😭

I don’t want to shame Jenmish shippers (I say Jenmish because Cockles is just a… very interesting name), even though I think it’s the slightest bit strange to be shipping real people… but again I never want to put anyone down for anything because I myself have said some stuff about Jensen and Misha that might suggest something between them.

Another thing is just the amount of hate for various cast members. Mostly the hate I see is for Jared and Misha; J2 fans who hate Misha, Jenmish fans who hate Jared, etc. There’s a lot of love in this fandom but ohmygOD there’s so much hate too. I guess that’s true for any fandom, but it’s so tiring sometimes.

Also, in this fandom, you’ll get hounded for any opinion you have. If you don’t like destiel, you’re homophobic. If you do like destiel, you’re also homophobic for some reason because queer bating or whatever… for the record i’d like to state that I am a proud destiel shipper just fyi. But I see so many people take it to the extreme, make little things into big things or something along those lines. Same thing with cockles shippers I was talking about earlier. I feel like I have a pretty neutral viewpoint on stuff regarding destiel; I see most things how they are, and I make my assumptions based on CANON things. I don’t say “Dean and Cas are definitely fucking”, I say “Dean and Cas love eachother but they cant express it, because Cas wasn’t even sure what love was and Dean’s highest ideal of love is family, which is why he says Cas is like a brother to him”. Now, if you don’t agree with me, guess what… that’s okay! If you don’t think destiel exists, that’s a valid point, and i’m not gonna dox you just because you have a different opinion than me. Because that’s just it, it’s an OPINION.

I could get into Sam haters and Dean haters and stuff… but I’m tired. Actually, you know what, screw it. I WILL GET INTO IT!!!

I’ve had a few experiences with Dean haters especially, and most of the time they just ADORE Sam and thinks he’s done nothing wrong. Let me clarify that I don’t hate Sam- like- at all. Then again, Dean haters who happen to be Sam stans have warped my view on Sam a little, but I won’t let that get in my way of honest judgment.

Sam. has. done. bad. stuff. DEAN. has. done. bad. stuff. Please don’t compare their trauma, they both have their own issues, one isn’t better than the other.

I might be biased because I relate to Dean so much (like a crazy amount it’s not even funny…), but for the millionth time in a row I DO NOT HATE SAM. I saw someone saying how Dean was the cause of almost every single world-ending event that happened in SPN… like honey no. Another person replied to their comment listing all of the world-ending events… and guess what… Sam was the cause of most of them!! Does that make him a hate-worthy character? No!!

I don’t know what point i’m trying to make here. I just think there’s so much in-fighting within the SPN fandom and as much as I love being in the fandom sometimes you just gotta have a break from all the drama. If you made it this far… go outside or something don’t pay attention to me i’m chronically online.

[someone-named-adel]

Physically suffering from back pain and LITERALLY having mosquito bites all over my right arm (actually, I think it's only more than 5) While I'm trying to draw an MC

And mentally trying to develop a Rottmnt Au in a company that makes an educational children's program

(It's obviously Yandere, I think)

MC is a worker there who is simply tired of life and doesn't quit their job just because they're too lazy to look for another one (for now)

Did I forget to mention that MC falls on the asexual spectrum?

I still hesitate to make it aroace, Demi romantic or completely asexual (Totally not me trying to figure out which part of the asexual spectrum I am)

Anyways, A quote (Is that how to say it?) that MC will definitely say

*Conversation between company workers that is definitely not a conversation sexualizing the boys in a not-so-subtle way (Definitely not inspired by THAT side of the fandom)*

MC, Who was dragged into the conversation by one of his colleagues, no longer putting up with the shit they talk:...

MC: i'm too asexual for this shit *Take a sip of their coffee*

*MC quickly realizes that if they stays there, they're going to force they to participate in that shitty-talk so, With a loud sigh that draws the attention of some of their co-workers, they gets up from their seat and, without saying a word, leaves the place, leaving behind them an awkward silence*

(I urgently have to learn how to use "they" as a pronoun)

MC definitely blocked the numbers of those involved in that disastrous conversation (or at least, the ones they had)

So, little by little some seemingly random workers disappear from the agency, despite that, and that workers are increasingly nervous when going to work, some even going so far as to quit out of fear, The boys, who continue with their normal recording schedules, They look, after each news of the disappearance of a worker that the agency itself ensures does not come to light, more happy and relaxed as time passes.

Of course the staff and the other workers of the company do not give much thought to this strange fact, since they are busy looking for new workers and trying to finish and deliver the endless paperwork due to the disappearances and resignations(? of other workers who left

Even MC, who already had a lot of paperwork every day and big dark circles under their eyes because of the paperwork, they seems more tired than usual because they is so busy trying to deliver completed paperwork by the designated deadlines.

Now, I don't know where this will go, since I'm still not sure how the boys and MC are going to meet, but I already have a vague idea or two.

And also, I don't know whether to make it completely Yandere, since I don't think MC could see the boys as friends, because they would be like their bosses(?, So that difference in status and power would make it very, very difficult for MC, or even the boys, to become friends with each other.

Definitely in the children's program, Mikey's section would be art attack style, and it would also have to do with cooking!

I definitely imagine giving motivational messages to the children through the screen during the program in case the models or paintings don't turn out so well.

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

His Bird With The Broken Wing

Fandom: Elvis Presley, American Musician 

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Original Female Character

Characters: Elvis Presley,  Original Female Character, Vernon Presley

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 5128

Summary: Elvis Presley has never been able to turn down those in need. A couple of bucks here, a new car there, your rent paid till the end of the month – he’s your guy. And yet those people have never made him feel needed, not really. But she does. His little bird with the broken wing, his ray of sunshine. She makes him feel needed more than he has in a while.

Tags/Warnings: Health Issues, On Both Sides, 1970s Elvis, Big Daddy Elvis, Light Flirting, Chronic Illness, Mentions of Pill Taking, Care, Affection, Age-Gap Romance

Notes: This is a sorta semi request. I had a few ideas thrown at me about Big Daddy Elvis but I did them more as one together than separate little fics.

ELVIS MASTERLIST

Monday

She can feel her bones aching, protesting as she puts each foot in front of the other determined to get in through the gate before the clock strikes seven. If she had her bike she would’ve no doubt made it on time but when she stepped out of her house this morning she found it where it should be though it looked distinctly lower in stature, the back tire appearing as if it almost melted into the floor where the weight of the bike was too much for its deflated self to stop. Of course she had known about the puncture, the loud popping noise and trudging home from her evening classes last night had been enough to alert her to that fact, but she had been too tired and aching to even contemplate mentioning it to her father or finding the repair kit herself. Instead she had headed inside, stripped out of her clothes and fell asleep on top of her blankets, where she had awoken to find herself cutting it fine to get to work. If only she had the bike.

Fortunately even without the bike the man on the gate recognises her and allows her to enter through them. As her feet move her forward she checks her watch to find that it’s just gone seven. It’s not ideal but at least she can say she was on the grounds of the property when she was due to be even if she has fallen short of the door. Her target though close feels miles away as her ankles begin to protest every movement. Still, she pushes through hoping that when she’s able to stand still, begging Helen to let her tardiness slide, they’ll ease.

Tuesday

Elvis can hear the argument; well he’d describe it as an argument given that there are two voices but one of them seems not to be fighting back much. He can recognise one of them. Helen, his house manager, a formidable woman who keeps Graceland running smoothly, something he likes as it means he doesn’t have much to do or think about. Yet hearing her speak now is enough to send a shiver down his spine, especially as he hears the other voice answer back, a voice that doesn’t seem any match for his head of house.

‘I really am sorry,’ the voice says, small and regretful, ‘it won’t happen again.’

‘It shouldn’t happen at all,’ Helen says curtly. She’s nearer to him now and he wonders if she might sense him standing on the stairs just around the corner but the way she continues makes him think again, ‘look I know you’re new here and from what I can tell over the last couple of weeks you’ve really done well but now is not the time to start slacking.’

‘I’m not slacking I promise,’ the voice replies.

‘This is your second day late in a row,’ Helen says.

‘I know but-‘

‘But nothing-‘ Helen starts but her words fall short as Elvis rounds the corner. He doesn’t know why he feels compelled to push himself forward, after all, this conversation is certainly not one he wants to deal with himself, but he cannot help himself. He feels the helplessness in her voice calling out to him and his feet shuffle down the last couple of steps into the kitchen.

‘Mr Presley,’ Helen says straightening up and smoothing out her dress as she faces him. He can see the awkwardness in her face as if she had been caught doing something wrong. And when he looks behind her he can see why. Standing behind the kitchen counter watching the older woman is a girl who looks to be on the verge of crying. She looks away as he enters, out of shyness or trying to blink the tears away he’s not sure, but he looks away too, suddenly feeling as though he’s invaded her privacy within his own home. His gaze moves to Helen, who’s smiling at him stiffly before she says, ‘is there something I can do for you?’

‘I just wanted a soda,’ Elvis replies though he quickly realises this is a lie given his bedroom refrigerator is fully stocked so he adds, ‘and a sandwich.’

Helen nods and moves to get him one. As she moves from his eyeline his gaze drifts back to the girl. He doesn’t recognise her, then again given there’s been so many upheavals in staffing these last few months and the fact he’s not felt like leaving upstairs much he’s not surprised. That and he’d sure he’d remember her. She’s young, no older than early twenties, yet as her doe-like eyes flicker towards his he finds them more aged than he anticipated. The tears are gone now, and her face looks more composed than it had been a minute ago. He smiles at her and she returns it though hers is more unsure than his own. Yet it’s warm, enough to radiate his whole body as if he had been sitting in the sun all day, instead of in the darkness of his bedroom.

‘Will that be all?’ Helen says as she stops in front of him, plate and soda in hand. It brings him back to reality, forcing him to look at the older woman as he clears his throat, ‘yeah, uh thanks.’

‘No problem, Mr Presley,’ Helen says placing the impromptu meal into his hands in a manner that makes him uncomfortable. It’s his home, his kitchen, and yet the message is clear. You’re not needed here. It’s a message Elvis feels more and more these days and so with a quick nod he takes the items out of her hands and turns, heading towards the stairs. He’s no more than three steps up before he hears her speak again. It’s curter this time, her irritation evidently increased by his disturbance. And though her voice is quieter this time Elvis can still hear every word, his eyesight may be worsening but there’s nothing wrong with his ears.

 ‘If you cannot arrive on time tomorrow do not bother coming in at all.’ 

Wednesday

She’s on time today. Elvis knows this because he’s staring out of his bathroom window, watching as she peddles her bike up the expanse of the driveway towards the side of the house. He doesn’t know why he’s watching her; he doesn’t even know why he’s up at the ass crack of dawn and yet he is. He tells himself that it’s the urge to pee that woke him when he knows full well that the pills he shovelled down his neck in the wee hours should’ve kept him asleep, like they have done before regardless of if his body needed to relieve itself. But he couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning as he glanced at the clock on his nightstand. As it nears seven am he clambers out of bed and pees, yet he peeks out of the window oh so casually wondering if she’s made it in.

And to his surprise he’s relieved that she has. Not that it matters to him, he reassures himself, he’s just over all the changing of staff. If she can keep her job it’d mean he’d have to learn one less name. She looks more put together today, her strawberry blonde locks flowing behind her as she peddles past, unaware he’s watching her.  As she disappears around the side of the house he smiles to himself before shuffling back towards his bed. He clambers back under the sheets, his eyes fluttering closed as the effects of the pills finally seem to be doing their job.

Yet as settled as he is as he closes his eyes to sleep he realises something. He hasn’t learned her name yet.

Thursday

She’s on upstairs duty today, something that was forced upon her given that she was late again. For a moment she thought Helen was being lenient, given her arrival on time yesterday and today’s arrival only being delayed by a minute. But as she directs her up the kitchen stairs and she hears the sniggers of the other girls following through the air behind her she realises this is a punishment. It’s not that upstairs duty is bad it’s just that it’s well harder to do the job. There are more rules to cleaning up here.

Don’t make noise.

Don’t be seen.

And do not disturb the boss.

And since it’s something she hasn’t done before that makes her nervous. As she creeps from room to room she’s careful not to make too much noise, vacuuming will have to wait until he’s up, as will cleaning his room. That’s of course if he dares venture out of it today. In the couple of weeks she’s worked here she’s only seen him the once and that was when she was on the brink of tears. He didn’t mention it of course but for fear he might bring it up she hopes he does stay in his room today. The door is closed, signalling she is not to enter and so she pushes on to the door marked Lisa Marie.

The air up here is thick, almost balmy. It doesn’t help that everything in this room is made of thick fabric from the shag pile of the carpet beneath her feet to the white fur of the hand-crafted bed she’s resting against. Still, tropical as it is she can’t deny that it’s a cute little room. She hasn’t met little girl yet, from what she’s heard from others around her she spends most of her time on the West Coast, visiting her father whenever their schedules allow. It means that cleaning this room doesn’t take long, nothing is out of place just dusty, waiting for their owner to return and breathe life into it once more.

It's a thought that makes her sad but since her knees started aching it also makes her feel a little relieved. Relieved because since there’s no one around to notice she can give herself a minute to rest. She slept better last night, the aches wearing off with her medicine meaning she could drift off into a peaceful slumber, but the warmth of the air and the plushness of the bed she's sitting on make her feel as though she hadn’t slept for a year. And as her eyes dip closed she feels as though she could sleep for just as long.

That is of course until she’s awoken by a thunderous racket. As her eyes fly open she finds herself now on the floor, the broom she had been holding now beside her, having swept everything off the nightstand as she toppled off the bed head first. And then the racket isn’t being caused by her, it’s by the sound of the door bouncing off the wall as he appears, looking frantically around the room, a small pistol in his hand until he notices her lying there.

‘Oh,’ he says looking down at her, his concern going to a smile.

‘Oh my god I’m so sorry,’ she says scrambling onto her knees that are still burning from the day of cleaning yet take her weight all the same. Elvis watches as she starts gathering the books and trinkets splayed across his daughter’s bedroom carpet, her voice nervous and frantic as she tries to explain, ‘I didn’t mean to fall asleep. One minute I was sitting on the bed and the next I’m on the floor-‘

‘It’s alright,’ Elvis says hoping his voice conveys reassurance but when she looks up at him doe-eyed and panicked he can see that it’s not.

‘No it isn’t,’ she says shaking her head as if to convince him he’s wrong, ‘I don’t even know how long I was out, oh god don’t tell Helen-‘

‘It’s between you and me,’ he says and it’s only at that point in her ramblings she notices he’s moved closer, kneeling down in front of her as he takes the items she has stacked in her hands out and places them on the bed. If the room felt warm before it’s now practically an oven, his blue eyes making her face feel as though it’s on fire as he watches her, willing her to accept what he’s saying.

‘I woke you up,’ is all she can think to say. It’s true, he’s still in his pyjamas, yet he feels wide awake as he looks at her young face. She’s pretty, prettier than he realised though admittedly he’d only had glimpses of her. Yet the worry on her face makes her age prematurely, frown lines appearing on her forehead as she awaits for him to scold her. If it was anyone else he might have. Hell if it was one of the boys he isn’t convinced he wouldn’t have already popped a shot off from the pistol now pressing coolly into his sweat-slickened back from where it rests in his waistband.

‘You woke yourself first,’ he counters making those frown lines disappear as she smiles, the same warmth-riddled smile she had given him when they had first seen each other. But it’s only there for a second and then she’s gone, putting the items back as he watches her from behind. It’s not a bad view he has to admit and it definitely takes the sting of trying to get up from where he had been kneeling. By the time she turns around he’s fully upright, ignoring the way his bones creak in protest.

‘I really am sorry you know,’ she says chewing on her lip nervously.

‘It’s okay,’ he smiles, ‘honestly…uh…’

‘Robin,’ she replies.

‘Robin,’ he says, enjoying the way it flows off of his tongue. It’s been something that’s been playing on his mind for the past couple of days, wondering what name could suit her and somehow it fits, ‘that’s a pretty name. Makes sense for a pretty thing like you.’

It’s a compliment that takes her off guard and she’s pretty sure that the heat in the room is now no match for the heat in her cheeks, which worsens as his smile deepens, crinkles forming around his eyes at the way he’s got her a flutter. She doesn’t know why it makes her feel that way, after all he’s old enough to be her dad, not to mention it’s probably an insignificant remark, something he probably says to every woman in his life. And yet it makes her stomach squeeze in a nervous way.

‘No it’s not okay,’ she says hoping to breeze past the comment in the hopes it’ll make her face any less warm, ‘I’m an idiot. I bet you’re wanting to fire me right now-‘

‘Why would I want to do that?’ Elvis asks softly, making her look at him.

‘I mean it’s not the best look when I’ve only just started. Is it?’ she implores. Elvis shrugs.

‘We all have off days,’ Elvis says. He knows that more than most, ‘anyway what’s got ya so tired? Late night out on the town?’

‘Hardly,’ she snorts in a manner that takes Elvis off guard. It’s the first time she’s seemed relaxed but that calmness disappears as she notices the clock on the night stand, ‘oh god is it twelve already?’

‘Yeah,’ Elvis replies.

‘Uh, do you want a sandwich or something?’ she asks taking him off guard once more, ‘I can fix you one.’

‘No, I’m good,’ he says watching as she moves to gather her cleaning supplies. He stands up at that, worried she’s going to leave their conversation early, something he doesn’t want to happen. Not now his intrigue is piqued.

‘Or some soda?’ she says. It’s a different angle one she’s hoping he’ll yield to but he doesn’t, instead his smile becomes curious as he says, ‘you got some place to be honey?’

‘No, no,’ Robin protests, cursing herself for being so see-through. It’s not that she wants to leave his company, even if it has had her in a tizz from the moment he came in the room.

‘But?’ Elvis asks making her sigh.

‘But…I gotta eat…I’ve gotta take my pill,’ Robin says.

‘Oh right…o’course. Young thing like you,’ Elvis replies, somewhat bashfully. For a moment his meaning doesn’t register until the dots connect in her brain, her cheeks flushing once more.

‘Not that,’ she blushes dropping her gaze to the carpet. Of course she can see why he might think that, in fact she thinks it’s a little commendable he’s so understanding off the bat given he’s not that much younger than her father and if she mentioned anything to do with birth control around him she’s sure he’d be even redder than she is right now. 

But Elvis isn’t embarrassed, in fact he’s damn right confused about why else a sprightly twenty-something might need any form of medicine. Even at forty people raise an eyebrow at the amount of pills he needs to take to keep him feeling in shape which is why he knows he’d be out of line to question her about it. But he’s curious and in his defence she brought it up.

‘What’s a young thing like you taking pills for?’ he asks hoping he doesn’t sound too demanding as the question leaves his lips. She hesitates for a moment. When she got the job her daddy had told her not to say a word about her health. Declaring anything might be wrong with you is just asking for them to turn you down, he warned. But there’s something about Elvis’ sympathetic, understanding expression that makes her want to. In fact in the time that she’s been here she’s wanted to scream about it countless times. To tell Helen she’s trying her best, even if her best one day might not be the same the next. It’s not as if she chooses to be this way. As if she begs for her bones to ache or for every action to make her energy zap from her body. It's not as if she wanted to have to drop out of college, to have to do it in twice the time it takes everyone else because she’s only got time for night school now. It’s not like she even wanted this job, but her folks can't make ends meet as it is, never mind footing whatever hospital bill lands on their doorstep.

‘Well it’s…it’s for my condition. I have to take what feels like a million of them,’ she says, feeling relief pour out of her as she says the words aloud. Even more so as his face doesn’t change. It doesn’t get awkward or squirrely like most people do, in fact it looks curious.

‘What's your condition…if you don’t mind me askin’,’ he replies.

‘Well I say condition but they don’t really know what it is. All the doctors at Baptist can't really agree on anything,’ she says bitterly making his heart flutter.

‘Well that’s no good,’ Elvis says.

‘You’re telling me,’ she says bitterly, her gaze on her shoes as she toes at the carpet. When she looks up he’s still watching her, yet this time his sympathy is bordering on the edge of pity and somehow that’s worse than if he was completely disinterested. It makes her want to run so she says, ‘sorry I shouldn’t be bothering you with all my problems.’

‘Better than thinkin’ of my own,’ he shrugs, offering encouragement as she fails to continue, ‘go on honey.’

‘Well there's not much to tell. About a year ago I got really sick…like drop out of college and move back in with my folks sick. I was in hospital for a while but they couldn’t figure out what it was.’

‘And now?’ Elvis asks feeling that tug on his heartstrings once more.

‘They still don’t really know…so they pumped me full of pills…’ she shrugs. Elvis almost has to choke back a sarcastic laugh. At least they always give him a reason before they add yet another little helper to his never-ending roster. This’ll help with fatigue, that’ll help you sleep, this one will yada yada yada. But for them to not know what the matter was and to do it anyway seems careless to him. After all she’s just a slip of a thing. He still shudders at the memory of Cilla taking more than her share of sleeping pills, knocking herself out flat for nearly two days. He doubts little Robin would be any different. But if she is having issues, if the pills do something maybe it’s not that bad.

‘Do they help?’ he asks, his worries not relieved as she shrugs once more.

‘Yeah, I guess. I mean I mean they probably would if I remembered to take them on time,’ she says.

‘That’s no good darlin’,’ he frowns and for the first time she feels as though she is in front of her actual father. And just as they would with him the excuses flow free.

‘I know. It’s just that they make me feel nauseous but I have to eat to take them…maybe if they made me feel fantastic or whatever but my bones still ache a lot and I’m always tired,’ she grumbles, hoping he’ll see her side of things. If they worked wonders she’d strap an alarm clock to her forehead to remind her to take them the very second they were due. Unfortunately, she’s not that lucky.

‘Part of your condition?’ he asks.

‘I guess…if we knew what that was,’ she jokes making him smile. It’s not been an easy conversation, in fact he’s done nothing but worry about her since she opened her mouth but her soft smile, that radiant one, makes him feel a touch better. And she in turn feels better for getting it all off her chest, it’s not going to make her working life any easier but at least having someone on the inside who knows the truth is something.

What she’s not prepared for is the way his smile makes that flutter return like a fire ripping through her. It’s odd how a man that’s nearly twenty years her senior can make her feel the way he is at this minute in time, or indeed how his smile can resemble that of a young boys, but still it does.

‘I really should get back to work,’ she says gathering her cleaning supplies as a clear signal she’s ending their little soiree. It disappoints Elvis but he can’t help but think that this won't be the last time they’ll speak. There’s something between them, a trust, both of them seem to feel.

‘Yeah you should get goin’,’ he agrees making her smile dim just a touch until he says, ‘you need to get downstairs. To get something to eat before your pills remember?’

‘Oh, yeah thanks Mr Presley,’ Robin replies feeling that flutter amp up inside her.

‘Elvis. Call me Elvis,’ he says watching as she looks at him for a moment before she offers him a nod and then scuttles out of the room, broom and cleaning supplies in hand.

As he heads back to bed his thoughts are plagued by everything she’s told him. It makes sense now. The lateness, the falling asleep, hell the reason her face is so youthful and yet her eyes feel aeons older. She’s bogged down by issues that she shouldn’t be. Unable to live her life because her own body is betraying her. It’s something he understands all too well.

And perhaps something he can fix. After all, who says she needs to rely on the doctors at Baptist, they’re good and all but if she needs better he can pay for whoever that may be. And maybe they can get her fixed up, get her back to school, get her out living her life like a pretty young thing like that should be doing.

His heart swells at the thought of that. She needs him, his little Robin, his bird with the broken wing. He could help her, if anything she needs him to, in a way that no one seems to need him anymore. And it sure would feel good to feel needed.

Friday

One would wonder how a house could be cleaned every day and you could still find dirt. Then again given the amount of people traipsing in and out and the sheer size of the house itself it’s not hard to imagine how the work could never end. That’s how Robin finds herself in the pool room once more, tidying up even though she had only done it a couple of days prior. She can't find it in her today to moan about it though. Whoever has spent the evening down here hasn’t left too much of a mess and given that she’s more than two levels away from Elvis her cleaning can be a little louder than normal. And today that’s what she craves because today her bones don’t feel like that of an eighty-year-old and she hasn’t slept terribly for once.

It's a fact that proves what Elvis had told her the day before, we all have good days and bad days. And today's a good day. So as she vacuums the plush carpet she finds that her hips are swaying to the radio playing in the corner. In fact, she’s so engrossed she doesn’t even hear the soft footfalls of someone in the room with her, or the placement of a plate as it rests on the lip of the pool table awaiting her notice. It’s only when she turns around she clocks it and she moves to it wondering if it'd been there the whole time.

If it had that would mean she isn’t much of a cleaner but as she looks at the sandwich she notices a small note folded in its crease.

So you don’t forget to eat

E

Saturday

When Elvis went looking for Robin yesterday he found her dancing around his pool room, oblivious to his presence due to the noise of the vacuum. He could’ve disturbed her and yet watching her having fun he couldn’t bring himself to. And he can’t bring himself to do it today either. Yesterday must’ve been a good day but it appears today isn’t. Well, he assumes it’s not given she’s fallen asleep in his bedroom. He’d invited her in, asking if she wouldn’t mind giving his windows a once over since he’s actually got the curtains open for a change and she’d obliged, thanking him kindly for the sandwich and skating over the fact he might have seen her shaking all that the lord had given her in his games room. Besides, that image was something just for him.

As she’d spritzed his windows with cleaner he’d disappeared into the bathroom, continuing their conversation until it had become decidedly one-sided. When he’d come back out he’d found her flopped down on the plush loveseat in the corner, cleaning bottle still in hand. He hadn't the heart to move her and instead he’d grabbed a blanket and draped it over her, leaving her to rest for as long as she needed to.

Sunday

‘Hello?’ Robin says with a frown as the cool plastic of the receiver hits her ear. It’s been a long week and an out-of-the-blue phone call on a Sunday night is the last thing she wants, especially when her family are waiting on her to start dinner.

‘Robin?’ an unfamiliar voice replies.

‘Who is this?’ she asks.

‘Oh, Vernon, Vernon Presley,’ the voice replies making worry take hold of her as she wonders what her boss’s father could possibly want on a Sunday evening, not only a Sunday evening, her day off.

‘I’m just calling to tell you not to come in tomorrow,’ he replies casually.

‘Oh, okay,’ Robin says trying to ignore the lump in her throat. She had thought this week was going too well, that Elvis had been too understanding about her. It made sense now, he was waiting for the right time to cut her loose. It makes sense she supposes, it means she doesn’t have to show up on Monday morning only to be told to go home but still it stings and the words of her father echo in her ears for being so foolish as to be honest.

‘There’s no point given your appointments at ten,’ he replies.

‘Huh?’ Robin asks.

‘Your doctor's appointment?’ he mutters confused, ‘I thought Elvis had explained?’

‘Afraid not,’ Robin answers her worry turning to confusion.

‘He’s arranged for you to see a doctor from California,’ he explains, ‘they’re going to see you at Baptist tomorrow. 10 am sharp.’

‘Mr Presley that’s too much I can't-'

‘With respect Miss once my son’s decided on something there’s not much point standing in his way,’ Vernon says honestly. It makes her heart flip-flop inside her chest. She should be grateful he wants to help but to fly a doctor in, from California no less who she’s sure would’ve cost a pretty penny, it seems too much. Why he'd want to doesn’t make sense either after all she’s only worked there a matter of weeks.

But it seems too good an opportunity to turn down. In fact thinking about the way he’s taken care of her these last couple of days she fears if she did turn it down he might take it to heart, that boyish smile that makes her heart flutter disappearing for a look of disappointment, one she doesn’t want to see on his handsome face ever. As if he needs her to. And after all she’s been through she can't deny it would be nice to have someone help. To feel as though her wings were no longer clipped.

It's an offer she can’t turn down and so she says, ’10 am?’

‘He’ll pick ya up tomorrow,’ Vernon agrees and before she can thank him he’s gone, the line clicking off and leaving a dial tone in its place. With a sigh she places the receiver back where it should be taking a moment to soak it in before she heads back to her parents to tell them the news. She reminds herself not to get her hopes up, this doctor might cost a pretty penny and come up with no more ideas than the ones here in Memphis. Yet she can't help but feel excited because even if they can't fix everything, even if she remains the same, she’s sure there’s something about Elvis Presley that might just make her feel as though she’s flying anyway.

And she can't help but smile at that.

ELVIS TAGS 

@girlblogger2002 @sania562 @caitlin1996 @literally-just-elvis-fics@notstefaniepresley  @artlesson8892 @18lkpeters​ @velvetelvis @jaqueline19997 @elvispresleyxoxo @amydarcimarie @presleyenterprise@everythingelvispresley @elvispresleywife@lillypink@richardslady121 @lettersfromvenus @louisejoy86 @ccab

[baileypie-writes]

~A Lesson on Organization~

Human!Shamour x Fem!Teacher!PrettyCure!Reader

Fandom: Go! Princess Precure

Relationship: Crush to romantic

Synopsis: You’ve been having a hard time staying organized. So, you decide to go to Shamour for help.

Warnings: Stress(Reader)

A/N ~ This wasn’t requested, but I really wanted to write for Shamour lol. Also, I used Google translate for the French words, so forgive me if any of it’s incorrect!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your shoes clacked quickly and loudly as you ran through the hallway. You knew that was against the rules, but there was no way you’d make it to class on time if you walked. You struggled to see ahead of you because of the large stack of papers you were carrying, adding to the risk.

You’re a teacher at Noble Academy. It’s been your dream job for a long time, so you’re over the moon to be able to teach here. You love your job, and all your students. And to your delight, the students seem to love you too.

But a few weeks ago, something happened that added a unique chapter to your life.

You became what’s called a “Pretty Cure”. From what you’ve learned, you transform into a princess, and fight monsters, which are born from people’s dreams being locked away. There’s a lot more to the story, but it’s been difficult to memorize. But luckily, your teammates, which also happen to be your students, have been a big help to you.

Unfortunately though, becoming a Pretty Cure has caused you to become less organized. And trying to get work done with no organization causes you to work a lot slower. So you’ve recently been late on a lot of things

~~~~

Your limited vision caused you to fail to see a slightly raised floorboard, and trip. You fell to the ground with a loud thud, and your papers went flying.

“Shoot! Now I’m definitely gonna be late!” You panicked, trying to pick up the papers as fast as possible.

“Miss (last name)! Are you okay?” A voice said from behind you. Turning your head, you saw that it was your student and teammate, Haruno Haruka.

“Hello, Haruka. Yes, I’m okay. I just tripped.” You assured her.

Haruka nealed next to you, and started picking up papers. “Here, let me help you!”

“Oh that’s okay. I’d rather me be late than you.”

“Oh no, I insist! A good princess always helps whenever she can!”

You smiled, and thanked her. Haruka was such a sweet girl, and she was so dedicated to her dream of becoming a princess.

~~~~

(Time Skip to the End of the Day)

The dismissal bell had just rang, and you said goodbye to your students. You flopped onto your chair, and let out a big, tired sigh. You and Haruka had just barely made it to class that morning, and that wasn’t even the most tiring part of the day.

“Woah. You look pretty beat.”

You jumped, not expecting a student to still be there. You opened your eyes, and saw your fellow Pretty Cures, Kirara, Minami, Haruka and Towa.

“Oh, hi girls. I thought you’d left.” You said.

“We stayed to check up on you.” Said Minami. “We’ve noticed that you’ve been having trouble staying on top of things ever since becoming a Pretty Cure, and that it’s messing with your schedule. Haruka told us what happened this morning, and we thought that you might need help.”

The other girls nodded in agreement.

“You girls are pretty observant. Yes, I am having trouble. But it’s mostly my fault. I’m afraid I let myself get disorganized.” You said, rubbing your temples.

Suddenly, Aroma, a bird-like fairy from the Hope Kingdom, flew in from the open window. “Well, this may just help with that-roma!” He said. In his feet, he carried the Lesson Pad.

You felt your heart start to race in excitement. Not just because the Lesson Pad would help you, but because there was a certain teacher what lives in it that you’re very fond of. Miss Shamour.

Your relationship with her was quite different than everyone else’s. You two often found yourselves flirting during and in between lessons. It’s safe to say that you have feelings for her, and you have a feeling she does too.

Aroma placed the pad on your desk. Knowing what to do, you picked up the stylus, and used it to summon Miss Shamour.

She appeared out of the Lesson Pad, and hopped off your desk, and onto the floor.

“Bonjour everyone.” She greeted, flipping one of pigtails. “What is it that you need teaching today?”

“I uh, need help getting organized. Ever since becoming a Pretty Cure, I’m behind on a lot of things.” You responded.

“Oh, non non non!” Shamour tutted, lightly smacking her paw-shaped wand in her hand. “That just won’t do! But not to worry! I, Miss Shamour, will help you get back on track! Lesson start!” And with that, you and Miss Shamour were sucked into the Lesson Pad.

Your vision focused, and you found yourself sitting in a desk. Miss Shamour was standing in front of you.

“Okay, first part of the lesson. You need to create un horaire, a schedule!” She waved her wand, and a chalkboard appeared out of seemingly nowhere, and some chalk along with it. She waved her wand again, and a piece of paper and a pencil spawned on your desk.

“One of the most important ways to stay organized as a teacher, is to organize your time!”

You mentally prepared yourself for the long road ahead. Miss Shamour was a strict teacher, but you very much enjoyed spending time with her. So you powered through the lesson.

~~~~

After what seemed like hours, Miss Shamour’s lesson proved affective. You had a schedule, and your papers and files were in labeled folders and binders. You felt a heavy weight lift off your shoulders.

“Congratulations, Miss (name). You’ve passed the lesson!”

You gave yourself a little cheer, almost causing you to drop all your folders. Miss Shamour pinched the bridge of her nose in slight disappointment, though she clearly found it amusing, as she was smiling.

“Oh my. Just what am I going to do with you?”

You laughed. “Well, if you wouldn’t mind, maybe you could give me another lesson sometime?”

She locked eyes with you, her tail swishing in curiosity. “Oui? And what might the topic of that lesson be”

“Oh, I dunno… maybe… how to ask a cool, cute, fellow teacher out on a date?” You asked shyly.

Shamour chuckled, clearly flattered by your date proposal. “Oui. Though that lesson may best be carried out in your world. How does Sunday sound to you, Miss (name)?” She flirted back.

Overjoyed, you leaned into her side, a way of hugging her without using your arms. “That sounds tre magnifique!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~baileypie-writes

[madsworld15]

I Am Still Right Here Chapter 2 Part 4 (Brian x Justin, QAF, Support Group AU)

I have uploaded all of Chapter 1 on AO3.

You can find Part 1 of Chapter 2 here and Part 2 here and Part 3 here.

This is the final part of Chapter 2 I will be posting it in its entirety on AO3 later on today.

As always, I wouldn't be here today writing for the QAF fandom if it weren't for the support of @winderlylandchime @maryp50 and @lostcol

Enjoy the end of this story!

One Month Later

Brian felt like shit. Not the “oh my stomach kinda hurts” kind of shit, but the “death would be better than this” kind. Ever since his scan had come back showing that the cancer had spread, Brian’s doctor had been much more aggressive with treatments. He was now lucky if he managed to make it into the office 2 days out of 5. If he thought radiation treatment was bad, it had nothing on the hell chemo put his body through.

He’d finished his chemo treatment for the day and had every intention of going back to his loft and passing the fuck out for a few hours. But, the nausea and body aches had hit him almost immediately after leaving the hospital. So, instead, he had told his cab driver to take him to the Bloom Gallery. Justin was working a full shift today since his school was on a three-day weekend. He figured he could grab Justin from work and get him to come back to his loft with him. Brian wouldn’t say it out loud, but the way he was feeling right now had him terrified of being alone.

“Hey, Bri.” Lindsay greeted him the minute he stumbled through the door. “Are you sure you should be out and about in your condition?”

Brian adjusted the face mask he now wore when out in public to protect himself. “Fuck you, Lindsay.” Brian gasped, already out of breath from the short walk.

“Seriously, you look like shit.” Lindsay came over to him and helped guide him to a nearby chair. 

“I’m on the chemo diet. I heard it’s all the rage for cancer patients.” Brian quipped, looking sideways up at one of his oldest friends.

“Besides,” Brian grimaced at the pain shooting up from his joints. “I came to see Justin.”

Just as the words left his mouth, Justin came from the back carrying a large canvas. He saw Brian and immediately put it down against the nearest wall and rushed over.

“Brian! What are you doing here? You should be home. Resting.” Justin’s hands roamed along the planes of Brian’s face and his upper body before Justin’s eyes met Brian’s gaze.

“I realized…” Brian stopped to catch his breath again. Then he gave Lindsay a pointed look. Justin nodded in understanding. He stood up straight and faced the blonde woman.

“Hey, Linds, could you go get Brian a glass of water?” Justin asked, giving her his best pleading look.

“Of course!” Lindsay practically hopped into action.

Once she was gone, Brian crumpled against Justin, who was back to kneeling in front of him. “I realized I didn’t want to be alone. I know you are working, but could you…” Brian looked up at Justin, who nodded.

When Lindsay returned, Brian was breathing better, and Justin had called a new cab to take them to Brian’s loft. Brian accepted the glass of water, moved his mask, and took a big drink.

“Hey, Lindsay. I know I said I could work the whole day, and by leaving, I put you in a bit of a bind, but I think I should help Brian home and get him settled.”

For good measure, Brian protested, “Justin. No. Stay at work. I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You couldn’t even make it all the way home. You came here.” Justin fixed Brian with a meaningful glance.

“Of course, Justin. I will be fine. The next gallery opening isn’t until next week. We have time.” Lindsay gave them both a smile and sent them on their way.

Brian had honestly expected more pushback from Lindsay on the matter but wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She had given Justin the day off with no fuss; he would take that win any day. On the cab ride over to his loft, Brian leaned against Justin’s shoulder and closed his eyes. He was so tired.

Before he knew it, Justin was nudging him awake and helping him out of the cab. The blond handed the cab driver a handful of bills and told him thanks. Brian’s bed couldn’t greet him soon enough. As soon as Justin slid the door to the loft open, Brian was slowly walking over to it, stripping as he went. Justin followed him shortly after with a bottle of water and some ibuprofen, just in case. Brian was almost half asleep by the time he lay down. Justin sat on the edge of the bed, placing a hand on his thigh.

“Get some rest. I will be right here if you need me.” Justin moved his hand up to stroke Brian’s hair.

“Stay with me,” Brian mumbled, his eyelids feeling heavy.

“Yeah, I’ll be over on the couch drawing,” Justin whispered, still stroking Brian’s hair.

Brian nuzzled into Justin’s touch. “No, stay here with me.” And so, Justin did.

Brian fell asleep, curled up against Justin as he lay with his back propped up and his sketchpad on his lap. When he woke up sometime later, Justin was still in the same spot drawing away. Brian sat up enough to put his head onto Justin’s shoulder. He felt the smile creeping on his face as he and Justin lay there in silence, just existing together. Brian loved watching Justin make art. He nuzzled into Justin’s neck and gave him a kiss.

“Hey, you feeling okay?” Justin brought his drawing hand up and cupped Brian’s cheek without turning away from his sketch pad.

Brian nodded sleepily. He was about to wrap his arm around Justin’s torso when his stomach lurched. He got up from the bed quickly and managed to get to the bathroom just in time to vomit everything in his stomach. Justin followed him a few minutes later, he had an open can of ginger ale in his hand. 

“I figured you could use this.” Justin smiled and handed over the can.

Brian moved away from the toilet and leaned against the shower wall. He took a sip, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes.

“This chemo shit sucks.” Brian finally muttered.

Justin plopped down on the floor next to him. “Yeah, I figured it wasn’t going to be a walk in the park. Let’s just hope it helps.”

“If my cancer continues to spread after all this, I’m going to kill myself.” Brian scoffed, taking another sip of ginger ale.

Justin ran his fingers through Brian’s hair and came back with some of it. Brian’s eyes landed on the strands in Justin’s hand. With a sigh, Brian shrugged. His eyes stung with unshed tears. He knew the chemo was going to kill his hair, causing it to fall out. But, the reality of it was still hard to bear. Brian loved his looks, and now his outside finally matched the sickness that had been raging on the inside for months.

“There goes the last bit of me.” Brian muttered. He knew Justin wouldn’t understand, but he needed to say it.

“Your hair will grow back.” Justin pointed out. Bless this young, blond man for his insane amounts of optimism, even in the face of weakness and death.

Brian scoffed, pulling himself up off the floor. “But my reputation will never recover.” 

He shuffled back to his bed and crawled back in it, under the covers. Justin didn’t say anything, but Brian hadn’t expected he would. There was a reason he’d asked Justin to be here with him instead of someone like Michael or Lindsay. Brian didn’t need someone who would continue to placate him after he’d made it clear the point was moot. He needed someone who would understand enough to let him sit in his feelings however long he needed to.

Justin was about to rejoin him on the bed when someone knocked on the door. He leaned over to place a kiss on Brian’s cheek and then went to check the door.

“I’ll go see who it is, and send them away,” Justin whispered alongside his kiss.

Brian couldn’t do much more than nod, his body already on the verge of falling asleep. A few minutes later, Justin was back. Instead of getting on the bed, he came around to Brian’s side and kneeled down so they could be face-to-face. 

“I tried to send them away, but she’s insisting on seeing you. She said she didn’t care if her son’s assistant said no. She would be the judge of his condition herself.” Justin whispered, placing a hand on Brian’s arm in support.

“Fuck.” Brian groaned, turning his head into his pillow. What the fuck was his mother doing here?

“Go tell Saint Joan I’ll be out shortly and offer her a drink,” Brian mumbled, not taking his face out of his pillow. Justin squeezed his arm before departing. The thought of his mother alone sent a new wave of nausea through his body.

Brian took a deep breath and crawled out of bed. He hadn’t wanted to tell his mother that he had cancer, but there was no way she’d see him today and not figure it out. He might as well rip the bandaid off. Brian slowly made his way across his loft to the kitchen. His mother stood there awkwardly, looking around at all his designer fixtures, a judgmental look on her face.

“Brian!” Her face lit up the minute she saw him. “I went by your office, and they said you were out sick. I knew it couldn’t be good if you called out of work.” 

Brian went to the fridge and grabbed a cold can of ginger ale. Then he went to the cupboard and grabbed himself a glass. Only then did he stop right next to Justin and face his mother.

“So, I have cancer.” Brian decided the ripping the bandaid off approach was probably best. 

Justin reached over and grabbed Brian’s hand. He wanted desperately to allow him, but his mom didn’t know he was gay. He figured one bombshell was enough. He didn’t want to be responsible for his mom’s sudden heart attack over that. But she must’ve seen the movement anyway.

“It’s a sin.” She gave him a stern look, much like she used to when he was a kid and had pissed off his dad in some way. “God punishes those who act immorally.”

“So, you think I have cancer because I like to fuck guys?” Brian scoffed. “Gee, thanks, mom. I always look forward to our chats.”

“Mrs. Kinney,” Justin spoke up. 

“Justin.” Brian grabbed his hand and subtly shook his head. “I got this.”

“It’s not too late.” Joan continued as if Brian and Justin weren’t even there. “God still loves you. You can still change.”

Brian started to see red. It was one thing for his mother to force him into taking her to church a few Sundays a month, but it was another to spout her rhetoric at him while he was battling cancer.

“You have to fight temptation. Stay strong. Harden yourself.” Joan gave Brian more of her religious bullshit.

“I would love to harden myself, Mom. God, I would much rather be hard so I can fuck every hot guy I see. Instead, I get to puke my guts out and wonder if my body will ever stop hurting.” Brian spat at her in return. After he felt a little dizzy so he sat on a stool and closed his eyes.

“I think you should leave.” Brian heard Justin say. For once, he was grateful that he didn’t have to face down Joan Kinney alone. By the time Brian was able to fight off the dizzy spell and open his eyes, they were alone once more.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” Brian mumbled as Justin stepped into his personal space and wrapped him in his arms.

“Me? What about you? She basically said God gave you cancer because you’re gay.” Justin exclaimed.

“It’s not as though I haven’t thought it before.” Brian got up and moved out of Justin’s touch, back toward his bed once more.

A few minutes later, Justin joined him on the bed. “Do you really think that?” 

Brian rolled his head into his pillow for a moment before turning back to Justin, giving him an answer.

“You try to avoid it, spending multiple Sundays a month escorting your mom to church while during the week, your body is being put through hell just to survive.” Brian’s eyes met Justin’s in the most vulnerable move Brian has ever made in his life.

Justin didn’t respond. Instead, he wrapped Brian up in his arms and hugged him tight. 

“Your cancer isn’t a punishment for you being gay. I hope you know that.”

Brian traced shapes onto Justin’s arms as they lay there in comfortable silence. It usually took him ages to get out of the negative headspace his mom always put him in. And yet, Justin managed to get him there in less than thirty minutes. He realized then that he always wanted Justin around. For the good parts and the bad.

“Move in with me,” Brian whispered against Justin’s temple. 

“What?” Justin turned so that they could look at each other.

“I know we’ve only known each other a few months, but I like it when you are here. And when you aren’t, I wouldn’t exactly mind it if you were.” 

One Year Later

Brian shuffled around the kitchen making coffee to go and putting the finishing touches on his outfit. He was trying to tie his tie and eat some toast when a pair of hands wrapped around his chest and took over. Brian smiled to himself, around the toast, and turned to face the owner of the arms.

Justin smiled at him, moving his arms from Brian’s chest up to his neck and pulling him closer for a kiss. They both deepen the exchange, almost forgetting about the coffee being made until the coffee maker goes off.

“I would love to stay here and keep doing this, but I’m going to be late for my meeting with Brown Athletics.” Brian smiled against Justin’s lips as he placed another quick kiss there.

“First day back after getting a clean bill of health. How does it feel?” Justin grinned. 

“Like a million bucks.” Brian handed Justin his own to-go mug of coffee. “What time is your gallery event tonight?”

“Seven, but you don’t have to come.” Justin looked down at his feet and shrugged. 

Brian gripped his chin and lifted it back up so they made eye contact once again. “You're showing your art. Of course, I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The two grabbed what they needed and left the loft together. On the elevator, Brian leaned over and kissed Justin again.

“Besides, Emmett would murder me if I didn’t come.”

“Yeah, he really would.” Justin laughed. “He might seem mild-mannered on the surface, but don’t piss off a gay Southerner.”

“I would hate to find out what his Aunt Lula might’ve taught him about getting revenge,” Brian smirked. The two climbed into Brian’s Jeep, and he drove off toward Justin’s job.

Pulling up outside the Bloom Gallery, they were met by Lindsay, who was holding onto Gus’ hand. 

“Hey, Justin! Excited about tonight?” Lindsay smiled as she opened the back door of Brian’s Jeep and put Gus up into his booster seat.

Once Justin was out of the front seat, Lindsay leaned through the window to talk to Brian.

“Please drive carefully. Melanie will come and get him around 4.” Lindsay looked toward Gus and blew him a kiss. “Thank you again for doing this. I know you have that important meeting today.”

“Don’t worry about it. Sonny Boy and I are going to have a blast. Isn’t that right?” Brian looked in the review mirror at Gus, who threw him a thumbs-up.

“Okay. Call if you need anything.” Lindsay worried her lip, looking between Brian and Gus.

“I’ll be fine. I’m 100% healthy and want to spend more time with my son. Besides, he loves Ted, not sure why.” Brian shrugged and waved Lindsay off before he turned the Jeep back on and threw the gear into drive.

Later that night, Brian was dressed in his nicest Armani dress pants and button-down. It was open at the collar, showing off a bit of his chest. He had a glass of water in his hand. There were at least a hundred people milling about the gallery, all looking at the various pieces of artwork available. Brian hung back and just watched. He tucked his lips in and smiled as he made eye contact with Justin across the room.

It blew his mind to think a year and a half ago, Justin wouldn’t have been able to even walk through that door. Much less mingle with a hundred people, most of them strangers. Justin had come a long way since the first night they met. Now, he was out almost every night hanging out with Daphne or Emmett or joining Brian at Babylon, which he bought for himself as a “congratulations for beating cancer” present. Things were so different, and yet Brian still felt compelled to watch over Justin and protect him from himself.

It didn't escape Brian's notice that Justin's support group leader and his friend from the group, Margaret, were both in attendance tonight. Brian's heart swelled with pride, knowing that Justin had more people than ever before rooting for him to succeed. Even his mom had shown up to lend her support, though Brian couldn't currently locate her.

With that thought, Brian strode across the hall and swung his arm around Justin’s chest from behind. He brought his lips to Justin’s ear and whispered.

“Who created that abstract painting with all the blues and reds and greys? The one that looks like Emmett’s street at night.”

Justin grinned and turned in Brian’s arms. “I wasn’t sure you’d understand it. I wanted it to be vague enough that anyone could buy it but specific enough that if you or I saw it, we’d remember.”

“I put a bid on it. It’ll look great in my office.” Brian leaned his forehead against Justin’s and smiled into a kiss.

Then he leaned forward and whispered, “Do you think anyone will miss you if I take you to the studio and show my appreciation?”

“Brian! We’re in public!” Justin leaned back. But his mouth was in the biggest smile of his life, and his eyes were alight with excitement. “As long as we are quick.”

“Alright, we can wait til later. I’d much rather take my time. Paint a canvas of my own.” Brian looked at Justin as if he hung the moon. Which in Brian’s world, he had. Not that he would ever admit it out loud.

“Sounds perfect.” Justin smiled as he pulled Brian in for another searing kiss.

[kiatheinsomniac]

Oh my gosh I found a blog that writes for Connor!!! YAY!!! Could I please request Connor x fem reader ? Reader is a new member to the homestead and maybe has a hard time fitting in / finding out what they are useful for and Connor being the saint he is finds a way to help her prove her worth? If this doesn’t inspire you — I’ll take anything with Connor there’s just so little out there for him! Please and thank you

──── 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐒 ˊˎ -

☾ ⋆ﾟ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: OMG am I really in a time where people don't write for Connor anymore?? I can remember when he was like one of the big 3 for AC fics. Damn, that really makes me realise how long I've been in this fandom for lol

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Connor Kenway | Ratonhnhaké:ton x Reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 0.6k

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: none

You dropped the bow to the ground with a loud huff as the deer scampered away, spooked off by your poorly-aimed arrow. It would seem you weren’t any good at hunting, either. 

Connor, the sweetheart that he is, had been spending the whole day trying to help you find your place on the homestead. You had moved here recently and were struggling to find something you were good at. You had cooked some dishes for all the residents but you were tired of sitting around and feeling useless, you wanted to find some way in which you could really contribute. So far you had tried foraging (you almost poisoned yourself), looking after the animals (a goat had rammed into your leg and you were fortunate it was only a small one) and hunting (as mentioned, you had missed and spooked the deer away). 

And yet, Connor had been so patient with you and you couldn’t thank him enough for it. He bent down to collect your bow for you and a comforting hand patted your back. “We’ll try something new.” He spoke in that soothing voice of his. With your bottom lip jutted out, you hesitated before nodding your head, forcing back the tears of frustration in your eyes. “Come one.” His hand slid further down your back, not inappropriately so, and he guided you back towards Davenport Manor. The two of you sat on the porch, sharing herbal tea and looking out across the garden. 

“It’s a state…” You commented with a frown. A storm had torn through the area recently and the garden seemed to have suffered the effects of it. 

“We could fix it up.” Connor suggested and you hummed in thought as you surveyed the damage. 

“Sure.” You replied with a smile. He was glad to still see that determination in your eyes, it was so very endearing and it made him glad to see you not give up. 

Once the tea was finished, the two of you got to work clearing fallen branches, sweeping away leaves and beginning to weed the flower pots and beds that were scattered around the place. You built up some support for the taller plants to help prevent them from snapping in the wind and got to planting certain flowers as well. You had moved on to the small vegetable patch to find that many potatoes and carrots were ready which gave you the idea to check the larder. Surely enough, there were all the ingredients necessary to make a stew so, while Connor tended to the horses, you were busy in the kitchen making enough for everyone in Davenport Manor and then some more to bring to the others living on the homestead after you had eaten. 

It felt nice to be sitting around a table with Connor and Achillies complimenting you on your cooking. You enjoyed cooking for other people and a part of you came to realise that you didn’t need to find other things to go beyond and prove yourself, that there were plenty around who were more than thrilled to simply have a home-made meal brought to them. The day finished with satisfaction and a wild berry tart shared with Connor on the upper balcony as the sun went down, the two of you chatting and laughing together as it grew dark. Soon enough, you were leaning your head on his shoulder as the two of you laid down to look at the stars. 

“Thank you-” You began “-for today, I mean. You’ve been so patient and helpful and it really means a lot to me.” He tilted his head just enough to look down at you and his smile softened even more at seeing you looking up at him in turn. 

“There’s no need to thank me.” His voice was quiet. 

“And yet I’m still grateful that you’re here…” And you rested your head against his shoulder once more, feeling his arm curl around you as the two of you gazed up at the stars, lost in thoughts of each other. 

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[goodoldfashionlovercorpse]

The Setting Sun

fandom: omori ship: suntan (kel x sunny) note: angsty (?), and sunny might be ooc

       The smell of joy was in the air. Aubrey and Basil were eating cookies and pasta on the ground, sitting on the large blanket – identical to the one they used with Mari. Hero sat closely next to the basket, you could tell he misses Mari – a lot, might I add –, but he’s moved on and got with a girl from his college. Kel, however, breathed in the air less today. Sunny came to visit. Kel would usually celebrate, have a good laugh, and totally not act off his big-ass crush on Sunny. But this morning when Sunny arrived was less than the usual; this morning he and Sunny had a little disagreement. It wasn’t big, they’re currently next to each other as they eat, and Kel talks about the game for next week. But it feels off. He feels as if someone now knows exactly how many cracks are actually in his act.

Sunny, of course, fell quiet. But it hadn’t felt neutral to him, it felt judgy – judgy to Kel. But the young boy had to let it go, his best friend/crush was home, and he couldn’t let it go to waste. 

So he did. He let it rest in the back of his mind – a concealed tattoo.

As for later that night? He couldn’t. He wanted to talk to his older brother Hero, but unfortunately for Kel, Hero was fast asleep on the couch with his girlfriend. What was her name again? Samantha? Sam? Maybe Mag? Alex– this was a distraction. He should leave the lovers to rest. After all, he hadn’t heard anyone say they weren’t tired after studying it. 

Walking towards the door he played with the doorknob. 

I should probably change clothes, Kel thought, Or I could pick up hockey. 

He knew he had to step out of that door, and check up on his dear ol’ friend. But how deep of a sleeper can one teenage boy be? So he opened the door, greeted by the same air that filled his lungs. Joy to the world, melancholy for Kel. He walked to Sunny's house, knocking on the door rhythmically. Lucky for him, Sunny was tiredly awake, as if he had just been living in his own little dreamland and got a sudden nightmare.

“Hey, Sunny!” Kel smiled.

“Hi.”

“So umm… wanna take a walk with me?”

Sunny looked from left to right outside his door before fully walking outside and giving Kel a nod. 

“Where are we going?” Sunny asked. Kel knew he was a man of few words, not straightforward, but not entirely aloof either. Mostly right in the middle, not a talker, but instead a listener. 

Kel thought of being poetic, it’s just what the 12:00 am fever gives you. “To the stars.” While it was admittedly corny, he could still see the other smile. A smile he hasn’t seen in quite a while. 

As they walked Kel kept quiet. He thought of confessing, though it would only be too rash, too soon, he didn't want to burden Sunny with anything he’d be forced to accept. So he kept walking till they reached the park, “Nice view isn’t it?” Sunny only responded with a glance, stars reflecting in his eyes. Kel brightened; his face felt flush and brand new. “It’s beautiful for stargazing.” This was lame. Generic. A raccoon would have come up with a better excuse. “I say we lay on those tables, perfect view!” Kel kept a loud whisper to his voice, it was beautiful to Sunny, but then again, Sunny barely spoke about it, only writing sad poetry and then seldom love poems; it would be a wonder if Kel ever knew.

The tables weren’t comfortable, only a masochistic liar would even think of playing devil's advocate for the damned things, but they made the close. Physically, that is. It felt intimate to spend a relaxing moment like this with your crush. The stars grazed the sky like silver paint dots on an inky night sky. Sunny looked so deep in thought, yet so focused you would think he was about to sleep. 

Words weren't spoken, but you could feel the lullabies in the sky. Similar to Mari’s hums. Kel remembered them. He remembered them clear as day. He remembered slowly going to hold Sunny’s hand. Identical to what he is doing now. His hand slowly slides into the others, fireworks exploding so much so that the New Year's sky would be jealous.

Sunny can feel the touch, but he isn’t going to try to move. It reminds him of the times when Kel used to say their hands are kissing. He doesn’t anymore, he seems too shy. Yet if both talked then they would know how the other still saw how their hands would peck when brushing and how they are kissing under the stars when holding. 

“The stars look just like how I remembered them.” Sunny was a poet, not a published one, but he was a damn good one, enough so that he would outsell everyone in the field. “You’ve always seen the same stars, Sun.” They both knew the nickname was false. Sunny was – and has always been – the moon, yet he shined so brightly under the stars. “I know.” The smile had faded into a light one, yet still viewable. Still beautiful. 

Some time had passed before any more words were spoken. 

“Did you know how Hero and his new girlfriend met?”

Sunny shook his head. 

“Well, mom says it’s romantic, but I say it’s funny. Turns out that they met in the college cafeteria. That day they were serving milkshakes, right? Guess what happened.” Kel possessed the normal Kel Smile™. “They bumped into each other while she was talking with her friends and he was holding his drink! It got all over her clothes apparently and she told him that she wouldn’t accept any verbal apology. So she had him walk her to her dorm! A few days after that he offered to cook her a meal as an ‘actual apology’ and that's when they first became friends.” 

Sunny looked unbothered, yet he still remembered when Hero and Mari started to date, she reminds him a little of her. Kel could sense it a little, so his laughter died down to a small chuckle. 

Sunny would be leaving tomorrow afternoon. And he didn't wanna make the first and last night of his visit unbearable, anyone with eyes could see the mosquito bites. 

“Hey, do you wanna head to my place for a snack and ac?” 

“Sure, I could go for some popcorn.” 

And so they left, minimal conversation made on the way back. Once they reached Kel’s house he warned Sunny that they probably shouldn’t turn off the TV as Hero and his girlfriend are asleep and that they probably shouldn’t wake them, if they know what was good for them.

Slowly entering, the door thankfully not creaking, they walked like mice to the kitchen. There were a few things left in the fridge and a lot of dry, warm snacks in the pantry. Going for the chips, their hands kissed. “Oh, sorry.” 

“You say sorry, a lot, y’know?”

Sunny quietly replied, “Yeah, habit, sorry.”

“There you go again, Sun. We really need to teach you how to tone down the apologies. No matter how cute they make you seem.” 

Time had stopped. Kel's words weren’t ancient, everyone called Sunny cute at some point, especially after how much he’s grown since moving to the city. “Sure.” He smiled, while mildly forced, it was a view to see. 

The night soon went away with them playing around with the snack and drinks, and sneaking behind the couch to watch whatever generic Halloween movie was playing on Freeform. “Ugh, Hocus Pocus again?!” 

“Shh,” Sunny pointed at the people who were sleeping right below their heads. 

“Oh, yeah, right.” 

After a few laughs and jokes, tiny heart attacks from Hero almost waking up, and going up to Kel and Hero’s room to read a few new issues from a comic book they liked, it was almost 5:30 am and they had to get Sunny home soon before his mother woke up. 

Dashing through the doors of both houses and, quietly, slamming them, they got Sunny up into his room. Quickly getting Sunny’s bed ready and looking as “I totally slept throughout the entire night” as possible before he actually got in the bed. Sunny told Kel that he heard his mom’s footsteps and that he should get running. Though, it would be nearly impossible for him to go through Sunny’s door without getting caught. So, Kel did the absolute smartest thing to do and jumped out his friend’s window. It felt like hiding a secret from a forbidden romance novel. The type of scene that Aubrey would gush to him about before swearing him to secrecy. 

By the next day, neither of them got in trouble and they got away with it like total spies. Except for the fact that both didn't wake up till around 4:55 pm – around 35 minutes before Sunny had to leave. And while Hero was quick to wake up his brother, Sunny didn’t have that and slept an extra 10 minutes. During which, Kel had gotten decently prepared to say goodbye till he came back. 

“Hey.” a half-awake Sunny stated.

“Hey, Sunny.” Kel could feel himself sweat, he was the last to say goodbye and he had five minutes – too short.

“Why don’t you just call me Sun?” 

“Oh, umm, it was an accident and I thought you didn’t like it and-”

“I liked it,” Sunny stared at Kel, “it felt, ironic to us.” To us. That one stuck. He forgot how ironic the nickname his half-awake mind made up while breathing the poisonous air polluting his thoughts. 

“Well then, I’ll use it more often. Goodbye, Sun.”

And, in a low whisper, Sunny muttered words only Kel’s ears were exposed to, hands kissing. “Goodbye, Sweet Moon.”

That damned poet. The city had changed Sunny, the whole group noticed, but damned be Kel as that newfound confidence had only worsened his already big crush on this man.

Sunny left after those words. That sweet retort of a nickname. His hands ached for a kiss, the words ‘My Sun’ lingering in his mouth, though, ironically, his sun was already setting.

He just didn’t know when he would rise again.

[artsyunderstudy]

15 Questions | 15 People

Rules: Answer these 15 Questions, then Tag 15 People 

Thanks for tagging me @aristocratic-otter!

1. Are you named after anyone? My mom was working in a daycare and met a little girl named Ashton and thought "that's a pretty name" and here I am. I agree, I like my name. It's unisex and people call me sir a lot over email, which I don't mind. People also call me Ashley over the phone which I ... do mind. Don't call me Ashley.

2. When was the last time you cried? I can't remember exactly, though I know it was recent. It was a little cry, I was just lost in a thought spiral.

3. Do you have kids? Not yet :(

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot? Yes, but mostly just when I'm in a good mood. For laughs. I don't generally use it in arguments or when expressing anything negative. I'm very very straightforward in those situations.

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?  I really don't know. Probably just their expressions, and clothes because I like clothes and I like to see how people choose to present themselves. Not in a judgey way, just a curious way.

6. What’s your eye color? Brown. Dark, dark brown.

7. Scary movies or happy ending? Happy endings, I don't love being scared.

8. Any special talents? I have been told I'm pretty good at art and writing. I can also sing but I hate getting ANY attention for it so usually I just sing at home, about things I'm cooking or if my husband says something weird.

9. Where were you born? Fort Worth, Texas

10. What are your hobbies? Outside of fandom?? I love travel planning. Like, travel too, but I'm particularly into the planning. I have trellos. They are magnificent.

11. Do you have any pets?  Yes! 2 cats and one dog.

Pumpkin (orange tabby, grumpy, chonky, great pillow, made of trouble, loves being squished so much we call him squash, likes it rough the little weirdo, has been with me since the beginning and we are very attached to each other),

Kira (a skinny grey patchy kitty with big paws and frog eyes, very sweet and polite, will tap you on the shoulder for attention, gets right up in your face when you're eating to beg for food she's not actually interested in, will not be put off, will not give up, and likes to sleep under the covers, weirdly obsessed with my husband)

Ember (cute as fuck cattle dog mutt, probably hates us because we're low energy and she is HIGH HIGH HIGH energy, loves head and chin scratches, dangerous because she cannot contain her excitement for any humans, doesn't understand personal boundaries AT ALL and has paid the price for it a few times, she will paw and lick and jump and bork and snurf, very afraid of loud noises and locks herself in the downstairs bathroom when there are fireworks, dabs a lot, sleeps a lot, loves going to grandma's house (grandma's house!!!!), my husban and i are completely fucking obsessed with her and she's tired of hugs)

12. What sports do you play/have you played? I am very bad at sports. Very uncoordinated and asthmatic and also bored by them. I did play soccer when I was little, and danced. Terrible at both. I like putting the basketball in the hoop, could do without the running and dribbling. Ugh, running.

13. How tall are you? 5'4"

14. Favorite subject at school? English, out of the core courses. But I wasn't a good student. Way too ADD. Art was my favorite class. Art and Chorus, but those are electives so I dunno if they count.

15. Dream job? I genuinely don't want to do the stuff I love for a job. I went to school for Art, I got a DEGREE, but I work in Ed Tech as a Success Manager meaning I just make people successful and happy all day, and I love it and I'm really good at it (im a good problem solver, let me solve your problems). I guess I would have liked to be a teacher, since that's my favorite part of my job currently, but teachers get the shit end of the stick and I couldn't do it. All my love to the teachers out there.

Anyway, I don't want to get paid for art or writing, even if they are the only things I want to do with my time, because the minute I'm doing it for money and not just because I'm excited about it, I hate it.

This was the opposite of an answer to that question, wasn't it?

Tags under the cut along with pictures of my pets.

@cutestkilla @bookish-bogwitch @hushed-chorus @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @captain-aralias @shrekgogurt @erzbethluna @stitchyqueer @fatalfangirl @thehoneyedhufflepuff @messofthejess @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @moodandmist @palimpsessed @larkral