#heatherfield setting

[akari-starlet]

I finished a little comic with Dory last week! And I felt that I don't have much energy to participate in ask-blogs for this moment :"o

But it was a really fun question to draw! 🌿

[aiwes-simblr]

Heatherfield on Du-Drych

[ankahikoibaat]

Twenty Fanfic Writer Questions

tagged by: @reconstructwriter tagging: EVERYONE no but seriously okay @heatherfield @lowkeyed1 @littleblackraincloudofcourse @firstelevens @peterbenjaminparkour @bizzybee429 @cypresssunn @thesecondbatgirl @mid-nighttiger @noneedforbloodpressure @brachiosaurus-on @monjustmon @thegreencarousel and anyone else (i don't remember if i've ever done this before.)

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?  about to be 230 on Thursday! (what up, plan on hitting 250 before the end of the year.)

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count?  466,023 words!

3. What fandoms do you write for?  ....too many. whatever hits my fancy when it comes to the whumptober prompts but main focuses are Pride And Prejudice, Willow, DC, Star Wars and The Vampire Diaries.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? screaming at the cold, say the words as such, our hearts are hungry, this is where the heart lies and going up against it all. the fact that all of these are Star Wars fics and four out of the five are from NTCM. pls.

5. Do you respond to comments?  yes! I've set aside one day a week - Wednesdays - to respond to comments (and then a fic chapter or oneshot goes up on Thursdays.)

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?  so there are actually a few that end angstily, some not on AO3 (I-F, I miss you.) but I've transferred at least one of those over here too so - Humari Adhuri Kahaani and Woh Miley The for them. and then love is not a victory march (ColdAtom I love you.).

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?  oh! most have happy endings? so? i won't list them all. i am particular to the ones where i have Palpatine explode. that's always fun.

8. Do you get hate on fics?  not on fic though i have gotten comments that have made me go "you could have just not said anything". some people nitpicking the way i chose to write characters - in both the Star Wars and Pride And Prejudice fandoms.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?  so i challenged myself to do this a few years ago and i've written a bit but not much? i prefer writing around it for the most part.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?  none here but Haule Haule my beloved nonsense.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?  YES! it was a couple of Primeval one-shots.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?  way back when i was writing on ff.net @bhavvyyy and i started a fic that we never completed lmao.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?  ....... okay look, for the most part i'm a multishipper but Swanfire and PremHeer my beloveds.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?  i will finish the TVD fic some day - but the time travel Star Wars fic i haven't posted anywhere is one i hope to finish but i haven't touched it in literal years.

16. What are your writing strengths?  i think i do well at bringing out emotions. i've made enough people yell at me for it!

17. What are your writing weaknesses? keeping to a plot. outlining. finishing a draft of my novel.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?  absolutely done it will do it again i used to write fic for a Hindi serial and did full on dialogue in Hindi.

19. First fandom you wrote for? i think it was Charmed to be honest. it's been almost 20 years...

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?  this is liking choosing a favorite child (except in this case the fics won't yell in my ear for not choosing them but STILL). so i will turn the table on you and let me know which is your favourite of my fics you've read.

[renee561]

Ted Lasso Season One Recap

So this show has been on my to watch list thanks to @sarahtarth and @austennerdita2533 @heatherfield @asphodelandabsinthe and @mercurial-make-em-ups ALL have recommended the show to me in one form or another. It has been on the list unfortunately for years (looks at Sarah and Ashlee and Heather). But as @wauryd mentioned gambling is perhaps one avenue to get me to do something because I like being a person of my word.

Now that I've finished season 1, i wanted to share my thoughts instead of just my reactions.

Spoilers for those that haven't seen it yet

So starting simple, I want to talk about locations.

I thought the fact that it was set and filmed in a part of England that was not London was amazing! Like you see London alot in films and show and as a person that have friends in other parts of England and that thought Brighton was amazing that for them to showcase something different was amazing also Liverpool my beloved Beatles.

Producers take note you have a rich country, you can set it in other places for your modern settings!

Characters

Let me just say I love them all to some varying degrees, but I have to say...Ted is amazing and I love him so much!

Typically speaking, you do not get a guy that is genuinely nice and kind as a main character in modern shows and movies that doesn't seem fake, that doesn't somehow make you suspicious about if they're going to turn him into something else later on.

Plus he's just...relatable. He's an optimist and he's doesn't always understand, but the thing about him is he tries! He tries so hard 🥺 and he's only happy to help people, no matter how small he just wants to help.

Also I think we should all aspire to be more like Ted.

Continuing on to another character I love Rebecca. Woman is one of 3-4 women owners in a cut throat industry, who went through a horrific divorce with a douche bag of a man that has an over englated ego. GET FUCKED RUPERT!

But she's wounded, and she lashes out at Higgens (my soft boy) and herself and anyone really because she is trying to protect herself from being that hurt again.

But she learns to let go just a little, and she owns her shit (after a time and some pressure and some positive influences (keeley is that you). She is starting to learn to trust and love herself the way that Rupert never did.

I love her budding friendship with Ted, like the hugs and the just support even when she is trying to sabatoge him and the team.

The team.

MY BOYS!!! Babies all of them! (Except you Tartt you're on thin fucking ice)

Nate, nate, my beloved soft boy!! I love how he grows this season how with the confidence of Ted he is starting to come out of his shell.

Roy...Roy...dick, but at least you know it and is trying to figure it out and the way he is protective of the team <3 <3

Sam is precious and I want to just hug him. Like this boy is the sweetest and I would die for him.

Tartt is a fucking prick. He gets marginally better, and I'm hoping better as things go on, but yes keeley deserves so much better then you!

Keeley is amazing, she's strong and kind and a real stand up gal, I just want her happiness.also same keeley fucking same about Rebecca. (Renee is not straight)

The Plot

I don't get football/sports in general, I do love things that I don't fully get because that's out of my sphere of interests. But i love that it's different, that it's not the same plot as other things.

I love that it's about a migrant to a different country that has no idea about what's going on and yet is still trying his best. Putting his best foot forward and trying to help these boys be the best versions of themselves.

Especially as this is set in 2020, it is very inspiring, and I can't wait for more.

[spookyscribe]

This is super indulgent of me! Last year, I began a project inspired (in part) by Dracula and my growing love for Victorian serials and penny fiction. It’s a serial set in 1860′s London about my MC, Cecil Morris. He’s a witch and a cat-beast shifter trying to live as an ordinary gentleman in London, where he has opened a museum presenting his faerie research to the world. You can read it so far here.

For a brief time when brainstorming ideas, I considered including Dracula in my story (yay for public domain characters!) but scrapped the idea since the timeline did not add up (Dracula is set in late 1890s and my serial is set in the early 1860s). However, since I signed up for Dracula Daily, the idea has resurfaced, and I decided to write a short little fun snippet or “what if” scenario if Jonathan ever had Mr. Morris as a client seeking a building for his museum!  

Would poor Jonathan be as clueless that he’s dealing with a powerful witch as he is with a vampire? 

Jonathan Harker, taking my MC Cecil Morris as his client: 

Mr. Morris certainly is a charming gentleman, just as Mr. Hawkin’s client Sir Felix Todd informed him. He is opening a museum of sorts and requires a building in Southwark large enough to display his “creatures” (he did not specify what he meant by that). He seems a find, upstanding gentleman. however, it was quite odd that his lodgings seemed empty, yet, though I heard all manner of strange animal noises and never saw a servant walk by, suddenly my hat was hanging on the hook and my teacup was filled!

When the subject of his business in London came up and his origin (for I noticed he had a Northern accent that came and went), his eyes flashed a most peculiar golden color, and for a brief moment, I almost imagined the pupils became as slitted as a cat’s! His upbringing certainly sounded old-fashioned. He grew up in a manor house, Heatherfield, on the York moorlands, far away from civilization. 

The way he speaks about it, one might imagine a medieval Gothic estate. I could almost picture Macbeth’s witches prowling the moors as he described it! 

Though he offered me tea, Mr. Morris himself only drank from a strange silver flask from his coat. The liquid inside had a bitter, herby scent that I could not recognize. When I inquired about it, be simply called it his “potion” to help with his “condition.” I did not press the subject further. 

I look forward to working with Mr. Morris, and I believe I have found the perfect building for his museum. When the Morris Museum of Supernatural Oddities opens, he has promised me a private tour (I think Mina should like to go as well!)

[vincentspork]

·Canepa's original concept for W.I.T.C.H. was a steampunk-style military setting

·Barbucci had been drawing versions of the character who would eventually become Hay Lin since high school

·The version of W.I.T.C.H. that featured Daisy Duck also had the girls as animals, themselves. Daisy would have been a detective in a series called Daisy D, and she would have been investigating incidents at a college that the W.I.T.C.H. girls were attending. Some pages were actually drawn for this idea, meaning it made its way pretty far into development

·Disney was wary of the manga-esque art style because manga publications were their main competition in Italy. Elisabetta Gnone and Barbucci set up a challenge for the higher-ups who kept opposing the art style, drawing only the eyes of the W.I.T.C.H. characters, anime and manga characters, and Disney characters, and they declared that if the Disney execs couldn't select the W.I.T.C.H. eyes from the lineup, they couldn't criticize the art style anymore. They picked the eyes of Ariel from the Little Mermaid and Barbucci was able to keep the art style for the magazine

·W.I.T.C.H. was only greenlit bc an American Disney higher-up who was super into Wicca stuff crossed paths with Canepa and immediately gave the project his approval

·Will shares Canepa's Birthday and Elyon Alessandro's, which was already revealed elsewhere, as well as Cornelia's cat Napoleon being named after Canepa's own cat, but Heatherfield was conceived as a mixture between Genoa and San Francisco, Canepa's interest in frogs was transplanted onto Will, and the Lin family restaurant was based off of a Chinese restaurant that the creators would hold their planning meetings in.

·Irma was physically based off of Canepa, while Will was based off of the appearance of Gnone, in addition to her nervous habit of touching her hair. Will's hairstyle specifically was based off of Alita from Battle Angel Alita

·Canepa was the one who designed the girls' Guardian forms

·Some details in the interview conflict with information that we knew before, such as Gnone being the first to leave the magazine (previously, it was reported that she stayed on-board for the first few arcs as a creative director)

·The original story concept had "ecological implications" and "all of the girls would be attracted to the Metamoor and pushed to be part of it, passing onto the other side of the fence." Elyon was merely supposed to be the first to pass over, with all of the girls eventually being brought into it to varying degrees, as this draft showed "no clear divide between good and evil".

·The Metamor was originally a "natural paradise" where the girls could transform themselves into animals (the implication of this legitimately being in the same draft as the Daisy D draft is making me lose my mind)

·Elyon was originally the guardian of the Metamoor and had power over time, wild nature, and death. Her character arc would have followed her succumbing to the Metamoor's power, bringing the other girls over, and finally, redeeming herself through sacrifice. Elyon also originally had white hair ala Elisabeth from END

·The original aesthetic was New Age and Wicca inspired

·Canepa said that the last twenty years have been a difficult mixture of joy and grief over the W.I.T.C.H. series: joy, because of the series' immense success, but grief, because they were left out of the great bulk of it. However, she said that they have effectively made peace with it - the duo had originally left Italy in part due to their conflict with Disney, at which point Canepa said she "didn't even want to see the characters in front of her" but eventually W.I.T.C.H. made its way to France, as well, forcing them to confront their feelings head-on.

·The fifth and final volume of Sky Doll will release Christmas 2022 in France.

[lacebird]

I was tagged by @cxpaldi! Thank you, wonderful Emilie!

hardcover or paperback / rent or buy / reads in silence or reads with music / standalone or series / annotations or pristine pages / ebook or physical copy / dog ears or bookmarks / mismatched series or complete set / cover matters or you don’t judge / lend books or keep them to yourself / enjoys lit classes or despises them / browses shops or orders online / reads reviews or goes in blind / unreturned books (..whoops) or clean library record / rereads or once was enough / fanfic enthusiast or a stickler for canon / deep reader or easily distracted / must read the book before seeing the movie or order doesn’t matter / has neat bookshelves or messy bookshelves / skips ahead or resists temptation / reads aloud or in your head / guesses plot twists or never sees them coming (have you seen me during an episode of Poirot? I loose count over the number of gasps i make 😂 )

I tag: @heatherfield @i-love-raphael-sbarge @snowingfairytale @killerqueenoftheclouds @freddie-mercurys @stoneqoldcrazy 

[queenofglassbeliever]

Tagged by ryik-the-writer Thanks for the tag @ryik-the-writer :D

rules: bold the statements that apply to you, italicize your aspirations, then tag nine people.

AIR

i have small hands / i love the night sky / i watch small animals and birds when i pass them by / i drink herbal tea / i wake to see dawn / the smell of dust is comforting / i’m valued for being wise / i prefer books to music / i meditate / i find joy in learning new truths from the world around me

FIRE

i don’t have straight hair / i like to wear ripped jeans and overalls / i play(ed) an organized sport / i love dogs / i am not afraid of adventure / i love to talk to strangers / i always try new foods / i enjoy road trips / summer is my favorite season  / my radio is always playing (or a podcast!)

WATER

i wear bracelets on my wrists / i love the bustle of the city / i have more than one set of piercings / i read poetry / i love the sound of a thunderstorm / i want to travel the world / i sleep past midday most days) / i love dimly lit diners and fluorescent signs / i rewatch kids’ shows out of nostalgia  / i see emotions in colors not words

EARTH

i wear glasses or contacts / i enjoy doing the laundry I (I smile everytime I fold towels) / i am a vegetarian or vegan/ i have an excellent sense of time / my humor is very cheerful / i am a valued advisor to my friends / i believe in true love / i love the chill of mountain air  / i’m always listening to music / i am highly trusted by the people in my life

AETHER

i go without makeup in my daily life  / i make my own artwork / i keep on track of my tasks and time/ i always know true north / i see beauty in everything/ i can always smell flowers / i smile at everyone i pass by / i always fear history repeating itself / i have recovered from a mental disorder(recovering...I hope) / i can love unconditionally

@heatherfield @renee561 @mystical-flute @swanqueenisendgameyo @idkmybffjillyy @austin-mahones

[quintessence-sentimentalist]

Elyon for the ask meme?

See below! (With the exception of favorite photo)

Elyon

• favorite thing about them: 

MY FAVORITE DISNEY QUEEN. But really, the poor girl’s been through so much pain and darkness (both in actions upon her and her own internal darkness as a result), so many lies and questions of trust, and come out of it literally bursting with light. I really don’t give her enough credit for her bravery or enough love for her survival through all of this, but that’s going to change moving forward.

• least favorite thing about them: 

Oof, long one, but I gotta go with the transition from “Elyon Prime”—AKA her characterization in issues #1-6—and “Elyon 2.0,” the one we know and love to this day. I get that all of this was due to the creators being moved off the series and Disney taking things in their own direction, but, uh, the transition could have been a hell of a lot smoother. They’d just spent six issues building Ellie up to be this scheming chessmaster who’s fully turned against her old friends without a hint of empathy left in her, and then in issue seven she’s suddenly having conflicting thoughts over her life in Meridian and generally coming across as a softer character, and all it takes is a single run-in with Cornelia and the rebellion for her to reclaim her trust in the Guardians.

I’m not saying we couldn’t have reasonably reached Elyon 2.0 at some point, but it certainly should have taken a bit longer. We were starting with a girl who’d been thoroughly manipulated against her friends by someone else she trusted, and had taken multiple offensive actions against them of her own volition; she shared nothing in common with the Elyon from before the Halloween party besides a face and name, with all other qualities buried deep beneath a darker, more powerful persona. But issue #7 operates as if sweet Earth girl Ellie is much closer to the surface than we’ve been shown over the prior issues, completely ignoring that she a) gaslighted a distraught Hay Lin with a little disappear-and-reappear act at her grandma’s funeral; b) held Taranee captive and tormented her with visions of Heatherfield that, without context, suggest that the girls simply replaced her and aren’t coming to get her; and c) took point on a plan to obliterate Will’s trust in everyone in her life.

As manipulated as she was by Cedric and Phobos, there’s still elements of these situations that are wholly Elyon’s own darkness, which is why the characterization shift doesn’t sit right with me. There should have been more of a struggle regarding her allegiance to Cedric and Phobos and the legitimacy of the Guardians’ and the rebellion’s claims. Cedric and Phobos are the only ones who’ve ever told her the truth about her life, and now the people they say are her enemies (her old friends) are saying they’re lying? That’s a crisis of trust that would take longer than a single issue to sort out, not to mention shaking off the manipulation she’s been subjected to upon first learning the truth.

And I’m going to curb this here because that was longer than I wanted and I’ll keep talking if I don’t stop myself.

• favorite line: 

I’ve watched “D is for Dangerous” many too many times, so I’m going with the very deadpan way she says “Barehanded folding. My one talent.” It just makes me laugh because this isn’t a side we see of Ellie very often, especially in the animated series, where she’s exaggeratedly naïve at so many turns. Please, just give me more sarcastic Elyon. 

• brOTP: 

Cornelia and Elyon, of course. I’d also love to see so much more Ellie and Orube bonding. 

• OTP: 

Hmm, can’t say I’ve ever really had one for her… that said, I could certainly get behind Cornelia/Elyon as a romantic relationship as well as platonic.

• nOTP: 

Yeah, not into Elyon/Caleb, as previously mentioned. Pairing her with Cedric is also a hard NO from me. 

• random headcanon: 

I just had a brief mental image of Elyon with her hair styled in Princess Leia buns, so we are absolutely going with the headcanon that every once in a while she’ll style her hair that way. She especially does it on days when she’s feeling a little down and needs a confidence boost, and what better way to get it than by emulating the ultimate rebel princess?

• unpopular opinion: 

While I like how she managed to get a relatively happy ending and rise into her own rightful power, I’d also be curious to see how things would have gone with Elyon had her story continued on the path set up in the first six issues. For as much as I think the transition between Elyon Prime and Elyon 2.0 could have been smoother, I have to admit that Elyon Prime was fascinating—and by that, I mean she’s hella terrifying, okay? She’s a very insidious character in those initial issues—like really, the plot almost leans into the mystery-horror genre with the girls trying to figure out what happened to Elyon while she spies on them from afar and mentally manipulates them in so many ways. So I’d be fascinated to see how that all would have played out in the end.

• song i associate with them: 

I love love love Sara Bareilles’s “Eden” as a song in general, but I also think it works really well as a reflection on how Elyon came back to Meridian and was manipulated by Cedric and Phobos. I just keep thinking of this line: “Idolized my innocence/Stole it from me in the end/Now I’m wide awake and I’m still paying for the poison you sold me”—it just reads to me like a comment on how even though she’s the rightful queen and all is right with Meridian, Elyon is forever changed by the lies and pain they put her through.

[love-killed-the-superstar]

femslash february strikes again and i finally updated that one cornirma fic that ive been meaning to get back to for literally an entire year

Title: The Frying Pan Conversation Pairing: Cornelia/Irma Chapter: 2 - funny how we run around Summary: “You're awake...” “Great detective work, Sherlock, want a medal?” “It's too early in the morning for you to be sassing me,” grumbled Cornelia, half-heartedly throwing her phone onto the blankets and scooting closer to Irma. “Good thing you're way too cute for me to be sassing you with intent to kill,” Irma teased, pulling her in closer for a hug. She was overly warm from sleep and Cornelia happily melted into it. Irma's boobs made for an excellent pillow. (Cornelia and Irma spend Christmas with the Hales.)

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13743063/chapters/42144206

Cornelia loved watching Irma sleep. While she usually ran her mouth during the day, when she slept she had some sort of serenity around her, a tranquillity one wouldn't expect from someone who spent half the night tossing and turning, hogging the blankets and drooling all over her pillow. Yet, when morning came and Cornelia returned to wakefulness, Irma was at peace with herself in the land of dreams, hair framing her face like a halo. It took all restraint not to kiss her, but Cornelia had never been a fan of kissing before one had brushed their teeth.

Instead, she continued to watch. It was quiet and dim, the early morning sun casting strange light and shadows throughout the main room where they were set up. Without her family milling around, it felt peaceful. She wondered if this was how it would be all the time, if she and Irma moved in together some day. Sure, it wouldn't be some luxury cabin, but the world would be quiet like this. There would be no eyes on her. The whole room would be theirs to lie in silence and watch each other and feel cosy and secure. While Cornelia did want lavish things for herself someday, when she was older and things like throw pillows and vases mattered greatly in the grand scheme of things, it amazed her how easily she would sacrifice that just to be able to wake up next to Irma each morning and take on the day, regardless of whether they were in a plush king-sized bed or squashed together on a pull-out.

Geez. She really was picturing the rest of her life with Irma, like the hopeless romantic she was.

She rolled over to reach for her phone in the semi-dark. Too early to start messaging the group chat, but she hedged her bets with someone who did have a tendency to be up at this hour.

Will, you awake?

Not three minutes later, she received a reply.

ofc?? no rest for an athlete, corny. how did telling the parents go?

It didn't. Turns out I'm a bit of a coward.

nah it's tough. i only told my mom about being genderfluid a month ago, and i had no idea if she'd even CARE about it

Well, she cares about YOU. And from what you've told me, she's taken it well?

The speech bubble indicating a reply stayed for a while, and Cornelia repositioned herself so that she could watch Irma doze while waiting on Will to get back to her. After a few minutes, her phone finally pinged, and she hastily lowered the volume as Irma stirred slightly.

yeah, turns out dean being our teacher way back in the day finally paid off bc sheffield has diversity training or smth. he sat down w me and my mom and talked over all this stuff she was confused about. and she still doesn't totally get it, but she said she just wants me to be happy. guess that's all i really needed. stuff like if she comes to pride and w/e doesn't matter to me tbh, just knowing she's there for me is enough

Cornelia chewed her lip wistfully. If only it worked out that simply for everybody...

That's great. Really, I'm so happy it all worked out for you. I'm just worried about my parents, I guess. They're not bad people, but sometimes they can be so backwards with things. Really, I just want them to accept that this is a part of me so I can stop lying about a college guy just to keep them from overanalysing the way I am around Irma.

hey i get it! you're both just so darn cute together!

Indeed we are.

They shared some quick, casual conversation (Will, as usual, had some funny story to tell her about life as Taranee's roommate, and Cornelia caught them up on the bullshit that was her and Irma's road trip to the cabin) before Will had to leave to start their morning swim practice.

“Psst. Blondie.”

Cornelia dropped her phone in surprise, catching sight of rich green eyes watching her intently.

“You're awake...”

“Great detective work, Sherlock, want a medal?”

“It's too early in the morning for you to be sassing me,” grumbled Cornelia, half-heartedly throwing her phone onto the blankets and scooting closer to Irma.

“Good thing you're way too cute for me to be sassing you with intent to kill,” Irma teased, pulling her in closer for a hug. She was overly warm from sleep and Cornelia happily melted into it. Irma's boobs made for an excellent pillow.

“You're comfy,” she mumbled.

“Yup, cushy tits run in the family,” Irma remarked, relishing in the way Cornelia shuddered with an implosion of laughter. “You know this is the first time in months we've woken up together?”

“Feels like it too,” Cornelia sighed. “I've missed this. You should really come visit me more often, you know.”

“Oh yeah? I visited you twice last term. It's your turn to visit me just as soon as daddy dearest hands over your fucking prius.”

“Well, no offence, but your college campus is like a 30 minute drive away from Heatherfield,” pointed out Cornelia. “I'd sooner you visit me than risk bumping into Uriah of all people at a house party.”

Irma scoffed. “Thanks a lot! It may not be ivy-league or State U or anything, but there's still a ton of stuff to do! Besides, pretty sure Uriah's at Sheffield Community College, Anna works with his mom.” She paused. “Though, I did run into our dear old chum Nigel at a Halloween party this year.”

“Oh? And how did that go down?”

“How do you think? He followed me around half the night asking about Tara until I finally snapped and was like, 'you missed the boat, honey, our girl is gay as the day is long'. Haven't seen him since. Reckon he dropped out when he heard how swimmingly Taranee's life is going without him.”

“I doubt he flunked out because of a girl he was dumped by five years ago,” Cornelia deadpanned.

“Uh, hello? Our girl is a catch. He's lucky to have even walked the Earth in the same lifetime as her.”

“A bit dramatic, but I get the sentiment.”

Cornelia fell quiet, listening intently to Irma's heartbeat, her breathing.

“D'you think today's gonna be the day?” Irma asked softly.

Cornelia let out a noise, somewhere between laughter and a sigh.

“How do you always know what I'm thinking?”

“Because you have the antithesis of a poker face, darlin'. I've been reading you like a book since I was thirteen.”

She tangled her fingers up in Cornelia's hair, gently combing through, careful to avoid knots.

“I don't know if it'll be today,” sighed Cornelia. “Does it make me a hypocrite? I was so certain I wanted to do it this time.”

“Look. You need to stop putting this pressure on yourself to do everything exactly how you imagined,” Irma said firmly. “You don't have to tell them I'm your girlfriend. You don't even have to tell them you're pan if you aren't ready for it. We can call this off, you can spend the rest of Christmas break not having to worry about their reactions, and we can make out and cuddle and all that good stuff the second we set foot in my house. Would that make you feel better?”

“No?” Cornelia reached up to pull Irma into a proper hug. “I want them to know how happy you make me. I want them to know that I'm happy being myself. But the part where I actually tell them? Opening up like that, it... it's a very emotional process.”

“I know. I know it is. But I promise you, once it's out in the open... never mind their reaction, you will feel worlds better with it off your chest.”

“Ugh, why does my girlfriend have to be so wise?” Cornelia wondered aloud. Irma formed a fist and lightly knocked her on the head.

“If I'm going to be a teacher some day, I gotta be wise. I'm meant to be some sort of inspiring prophet, if your dad's stirring speech at dinner last night was anything to go by.”

“He's a passionate guy,” Cornelia shrugged.

“Sounds like someone else I know.”

A sudden creak from down the hall disrupted them, and they sprung apart, Cornelia sitting upright and reaching for her phone while Irma pretended to go back to sleep. A moment later, Harold's face poked around the door.

“Morning, darling!” he uttered in a stage-whisper, before stepping into the room clad in his robe and slippers. “Does Irma take coffee? I was thinking of brewing a pot to wake your mother up.”

“Only with six million sugars in,” Cornelia said, rolling her eyes fondly. “Don't worry, I'll take over. I know how to make it so she doesn't spit it out.”

Harold laughed, and moved over to start on breakfast as Cornelia set up the coffee maker.

“You two are as thick as thieves.”

Cornelia's hand froze.

“...Well, we're still good friends, but...”

“I drifted apart from my school friends when I went away to college, you know,” Harold mused. “I regret it now. The rift grew so big, and by the time I saw them again they were married, had families... and although we could still talk with ease about these kinds of things, the bond we shared at school – the books we liked to read, the movies we saw together, the pranks we would play on our teachers – all of that was gone. It was something we could look back upon and laugh at, but it's not the same.”

“I didn't know that.”

Harold offered her a kind smile, and reached over to crack some eggs into a bowl, dusting the mixture with pepper.

“Well, I think it's important to keep in touch with those you love. I was actually quite worried when I heard that you were going to your college alone. I know how close you are to the girls you met at Sheffield. I'm... glad that you were able to keep a close bond with them despite the distance.”

Oh, if only he knew how close.

Cornelia set out some cups on the side, hoping her face wasn't burning. If she really was as easy to read as Irma said...

“Well, they're my friends. They're important to me.” She glanced over at him. “Dad, I'm... I'm really happy with my life right now. With the person I am, and the person I'm with.”

Harold stopped whisking, and moved over to pull Cornelia into a tight hug.

“I'm so glad to hear that, darling. I really am.”

They worked in a pleasant silence after that, and when Irma next rolled over, Cornelia was nudging her, cup of overly sweetened coffee in her hand.

“Rise and shine.”

Harold was whistling away as Irma took her first sip, his back to them as he began tossing some bacon and eggs in the pan.

“Mmm. You made it just how I like it.”

“Well, you're picky. If my dad made it you'd choke it down and feel awful the rest of the day,” Cornelia teased. Irma stuck her tongue out.

“Jerk.” After another sip, she added coyly, “I heard the conversation between you two. It was sweet. Are you thinking today might be the day after all?”

“Maybe,” Cornelia said, a flame of confidence ignited in her heart. “He really wants me to be happy, so... maybe when I tell him, he'll understand.”

“Look, Harold Hale might not be leading a revolution, but he's always seemed like a chill guy to me,” Irma said quietly. “If you keep dropping hints, he might figure the rest out on his own.”

“Maybe.”

Cornelia glanced back at her father, still blissfully unaware of their conversation, and she leaned down to press a kiss to Irma's forehead.

“Now, drink up. We have a big day ahead of us.”

…

Breakfast was uneventful, with Lillian dominating the conversation with talk of some dream inspired by a zombie TV show she'd been binge-watching over Christmas break. Irma munched on French toast and bacon and watched in amusement as Harold became disgustingly sweet with Elizabeth, pressing kisses to her head whenever he went to refill drinks, even reaching down to pinch her behind when he was sure his daughters and his oldest's girlfriend weren't looking. Elizabeth swatted his hand away, pretending to be mortified at his brazen display in front of Irma, but the rouge on her cheeks and the affectionate eyeroll told another story. All the while, Cornelia quietly ate and drank, keeping a straight face while prodding Irma's foot playfully with her own under the table.

Oh, Irma could get used to mornings like these.

They took turns showering and dressing, and did the usual routine of wrestling for more mirror space as they brushed their teeth and put on make-up.

“So what's the plan for today?” Irma asked, rubbing some kind of moisturiser into her cheeks. Cornelia leaned in closer and inhaled with a happy sigh. Mango. Irma took the opportunity to turn and press a kiss to the tip of her nose, and Cornelia pulled away with a grin.

“Oh, well now we're all together, today will definitely be a decorating day. I mean, it's Christmas eve tomorrow, so it'd be a little sad if we didn't have the decorations ready by then,” she explained with a shrug, uncapping her mascara beginning to apply it to her upper lashes. “It really shouldn't take too long though. We'll have some time to get away, don't worry. And I think tonight my parents reserved dinner for us at a restaurant in town. I have to warn you, the waiter we had last time was super obnoxious...”

Irma stared at her reflection in the mirror, zoning out of Cornelia's anecdote about the wait staff at said restaurant, before glancing over at her girlfriend. In their teen years, she'd always envied how immaculate Cornelia's appearance was. She'd always seemed flawless somehow, even though Irma knew better and would never ever admit that much. Then, those feelings started to mix with something else, and attraction, jealousy and self-consciousness melted into an ugly soup of insecurity in her psyche. Even now, when she knew better than anyone that Cornelia was smitten with her, doubt crept in, especially in situations like these when they had to stand beside one another and pretend like they belonged in the same league.

“You're beautiful,” she sighed, interrupting Cornelia's spontaneous yelp review. Cornelia's hand jerked at the suddenness of Irma's statement and she hurriedly reached to blot away a clump of mascara stuck to the end of her eyelashes.

“Oh. Well, I do my best, and when it comes to make-up practice always makes perfect, you know.”

“I'm not talking about make-up, though yeah, you should consider dropping out of college and becoming a beauty guru on youtube instead.”

“Well, I think you're gorgeous too,” Cornelia replied with a smile, moving onto her lips. First a layer of balm to soften them, a waiting period of three minutes, and then the application of gloss or lipstick. It was her routine every time, and the waiting drove Irma mad in the mornings they'd spent together over the years. Cornelia's lip balm always smelled so damn good that fighting the temptation to kiss it clean off was a rare torture.

“Have you seen me?” muttered Irma, frowning at her reflection. “Eyebags for days. Messy brows. My lips are chapped to fuck and my skin has been kind of red lately...”

“Every time I see you I want to kiss you all over,” Cornelia said in the kind of factual tone that had Irma raising an eyebrow in disbelief. Still, she didn't protest as Cornelia wound her arms around her, and Irma caught a whiff of coconut lip balm. God damn it, she wanted Corny-kisses so bad. “You still get insecure, huh?”

“Hard not to when my girlfriend could pass for a fucking supermodel.”

“While I'm flattered that you hold me in such high regard, you're a far cry from the disaster you're making yourself out to be,” Cornelia laughed. “Besides, if you're really worrying about stuff, just talk to me, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Irma muttered. Cornelia rifled through her make-up bag for a few moments, before bringing out a small bottle.

“Come here, dope. Let me help you.”

“Why pay big bucks for a beautician when you can get one for free in the form of a generous girlfriend?” Irma deadpanned, but a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Cornelia grinned back and started to apply the liquid to her cheeks and brow with some kind of blender sponge thing shaped like an egg.

“The trick to combating redness and dark circles is to have a good, strong base that neutralises any discolouration in your skin. In your case, green tones kind of cancel out reds, and yellows are good against dark circles, so it just leaves your skin looking healthier, see?”

She switched over quickly to one with a yellower hue, and Irma hummed in agreement, staying put as Cornelia began tending to her eyebags.

“I think I get where you're coming from. Hay Lin calls me up all the time to gush about colour theory, the importance of colour wheels is stuck in my brain for life.”

“Oh, you and Hay Lin call each other all the time? More than me?” Cornelia teased. She put down the sponge and reached back over to her make-up bag, retrieved something that Irma could only describe as the world's tiniest broom, and began to tame Irma's unruly eyebrows. “Don't tell me the two of you are having a sordid affair behind my back.”

“Our torrid love affair is about as real as yours with mystery botanist man,” Irma responded. Without breaking eye contact with Cornelia, she reached over for her own chapstick and began to apply it. Cornelia's tongue poked out slightly in concentration as she smoothed down Irma's brows.

“It's bad enough my parents keep going on about him, don't you start.”

“Well, he is my alter-ego,” Irma pointed out. “Seems a little rude to silence my opinions on him.”

“I hate when you make a good point.”

Cornelia leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Irma's brow, breathing in the smell of her mango moisturiser one more time and sighing deeply. Irma, in a similar moment of pure, unfiltered lesbianism, caught the scent of Cornelia's lip balm and damn went out of her mind. She tilted Cornelia's head down and what transpired for the next few minutes were a combination of kisses, hugs, and several attempts to escape Irma's python-like grip.

“It's lipstick time,” Cornelia complained, a playful glint in her eye as she finally pried Irma's arms off of her waist. “My lips will dry out.”

“Honey, we're both balmed up, if anything, now we have a double coating. You'll be fine.”

“Still, the sooner my make-up is done, the sooner we can get decorating out of the way, and the sooner we can chill out watching crappy holiday movies.”

“The temptation to stay in this bathroom where no one's watching and we can keep kissing forever, though...”

“Aren't we saving 'kissing forever' for the week at your place?” Cornelia asked innocently, perfectly pencilled eyebrows raised.

“No, that's 'sex forever', silly,” Irma said cheerfully, clapping her on the back.

She glanced back at her reflection. While the foundation and tiny grooming hadn't done much besides tidying her reflection up some, her eyes twinkled with something she could only describe as 'the Cornelia effect', and she found her appearance didn't really bug her so much by this point. As they stood side by side, Irma came to the realisation that she and Cornelia really did fit together, but more like a pair of odd socks that compliment each other in all their contrasting glory.

Maybe someone else would call that love.

…

Christmas with the Hales was turning out to be pretty fun.

Irma and Lillian fought bitterly over control of the spotify playlist that morning, while Elizabeth and Cornelia decorated the tree and Harold cheerfully filmed the entire ordeal. Lillian was stubbornly obsessed with the classics, while Irma kept switching them out for lesser appreciated cover versions, partly because rooting for the underdogs was how she rolled, and partly because she got immense glee out of pissing Lillian off (and for that, Cornelia saluted her for her heroism). When Karmilla's edition of 'All I Want For Christmas' came on instead of Mariah Carey, Lillian threatened to throw Irma's phone out of the window, which had Elizabeth swooping in and putting an end to their temporary rivalry.

They called a truce when the parents set out to buy icing and other edible decorations for the Christmas cookies, leaving the girls to prep them for baking. Lillian greased the baking tray while Cornelia mixed eggs and flour and sugar and cinnamon together in a big red bowl. Irma, meanwhile, sat herself on the island and, in compromise with Lillian, put on a playlist of nineties nostalgia, singing along to Re-feel-it and pretending to drum with a pair of wooden spoons against the countertop.

“Funnyyyyy, how we run around,” she belted. “And see what we got, we don't even know what it is we found...”

“And honey, take a look around,” Cornelia chimed in, using the whisk as a microphone. She spun on her heels, her eyes meeting Irma's as she lifted the whisk up to her lips. “By the time we get there we won't even know where it is we're bound!”

The two of them burst out laughing, and Lillian rolled her eyes. “Dorks.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Cornelia sighed dramatically, smirking at Irma before turning back to the mixing bowl and continuing to whisk the mixture. “I forgot we were in your divine presence, Lillian. I hope you can forgive us for entering the realm of uncool nostalgia for two seconds.”

Irma snorted.

“You know, she always gets more sarcastic when you're around, Irma,” Lillian accused.

“Yeah, I rub off on her. I'm a baaaad influence.”

“Is that any way to talk to our renowned guest?” Cornelia chastised. “What would Dad say?”

“He'd probably tell you not to sing into the whisk. You know how many germs you could be putting into the cookies by breathing on the mixture? You've built up an immunity living among students, but have some consideration for those of us who haven't stepped foot in a sweaty student union hall.”

“You're actually mad,” Irma cackled. “What kind of diseases could Cornelia have besides a bad case of the cooties? Unless... Corny, please don't tell me your parents are anti-vaxxers, or I might have to end this friendship for good.”

“Hell no, they're fine. Since when did you become such a germophobe, Lillian?” Cornelia teased.

“I play zombie games,” Lillian responded sagely. “I know how infection spreads.”

“They really don't paint as accurate a picture as you've been led to believe.”

As the mixture began to thicken into a dough, Lillian joined Irma on sitting on the island counter.

“So what's college like?”

“Classes are boring, my roommate sucks, and I'm drowning in student loans. But the parties are fun, and the people are cool when they aren't being pretentious tools.”

Lillian hummed.

“I can't wait until I go to college. Community's one of my favourite shows.”

“Heh, well, Community is an exaggeration for the sake of comedy, but...”

“Cornelia, what's your college like?”

“You saw it when you and Mom and Dad helped me move in,” Cornelia pointed out, distracted as she began to knead the dough.

“Yeah, but it's not the same! Your dorm is nice, sure, but what about the classes? The parties? The boys?”

“Hmm, I don't know about that. Boys aren't my area of expertise.”

“Well that's gay.”

Irma raised her eyebrows.

“Using 'gay' as an insult? Very 2004 of you.”

Lillian rolled her eyes. “Sorry. So you don't have a boyfriend?”

“Nope,” Irma said shortly.

Cornelia began to knead a little harder.

“I bet you know stuff about Cornelia's boyfriend though,” Lillian said to Irma, arms folded. “Why doesn't she talk about him? Is he secretly ugly?”

Irma snorted.

“Ha. I know a thing or two, but he's actually... probably the most handsome person I've ever known. Aside from your sister!” She playfully punched Lillian on the arm, who looked unimpressed by the statement. Cornelia made a strangled sound.

“Lillian, pass me the cookie cutters, please,” she choked.

Lillian raised her eyebrows and hopped off the counter top, retrieving ones shaped like pine trees and angels and bells, handing them to Cornelia.

“Here they are, weirdo. Anyway, you can't blame me for being curious! We had to pry it out of you that you were seeing anyone at all, and you're always so twitchy when we bring him up. Irma, is he a junkie or a biker or something?”

“Nope, just a loser who lies around watching cartoons all day,” Irma responded with a lazy grin.

“So you have a thing in common.”

“Lillian!” Cornelia admonished, slamming a cookie cutter into the dough with enough force to make the other shapes jump. “Also, Irma, I don't appreciate you calling my partner a loser.”

Lillian pulled a face.

“Partner? What are you, old timers?”

“Cowboys,” Irma chimed in.

“Oh, stop teasing me,” Cornelia huffed. “I'm just trying to be more inclusive. The world could do with more of that, you know.”

Lillian shrugged. “Whatever. So you're liberal now?”

“I reckon I've always been, yes.”

“And you, Irma?”

“Socialist, through and through.”

“Of course you are.”

“Just wait until college, Lillian,” Irma chided with a smile, as Cornelia began setting out the Christmas cookies on the tray. “There's a whole wide world out there.”

…

The Italian restaurant Harold took them to that night was fucking fancy, to say the least. The kind of fancy where there were lemon-scented wipes in little packets on every table and complimentary garlic dough balls and everyone was in suits and dresses. The Hales looked like they fit right in, and Irma was some vagrant they'd picked up off of the streets and were treating to dinner in a commendable act of charity.

“I don't even know what half the stuff on this menu is,” Irma hissed to Cornelia as they took their seats.

“It's good food,” Cornelia promised. “They just use posh names to scare people into thinking its worth the money they're paying. Come on, you watch enough Hell's Kitchen to know what filet mignon is.”

Irma ended up ordering something that she was pretty sure was some kind of beef thing, and Cornelia ordered the one pasta dish on the menu that used aubergines instead of pancetta. The wine was decent at least, and Irma found it easier to sneak glances at Cornelia's cleavage in the scoop neck dress she was wearing with the large flower centrepiece obscuring them from her parents. Lillian, while looking the part in a simple white turtle neck dress, was very obviously playing on her phone under the table.

The sweet onion soup starters arrived swiftly, and Irma was dragged back into a light grilling about her teaching degree from Harold, while Elizabeth began to catch Cornelia up with the latest family drama.

“Why, I just think it's so inspiring that you're choosing to act as a beacon for young people, and pave their futures-”

“-And your uncle, of course, is still coming around asking for money, as if your grandparents don't have enough to worry about-”

“-And you know, teaching qualifications open up the whole world to you! You could teach in international schools, or you could teach English in schools where it's a secondary language-”

“-It's not like their health is getting any better, you know! I keep telling him it's time to stand on his own two feet, he's certainly old enough-”

The moment that their waiter came to take the dishes away, Irma hurriedly excused herself.

In the bathroom (one of those spotless white ones with tiny shell-shaped soaps and embossed toilet paper because of course, rich people) Irma took a few moments to collect herself, staring at her reflection in dismay. She'd done her best to look presentable, but she still stuck out like a sore thumb in this kind of environment. Her dress was a little tight since the last time she'd worn it was for graduation, and her choker was crooked. Her bun was already starting to look lopsided, the redness of her cheeks was starting to show through the base Cornelia had applied that morning...

“Why am I not as perfect as the folks out there?” she muttered to herself, eyes narrowing as she glared at her reflection. She reached for one of the shell-shaped hand soaps and began to pick it with the edge of her fingernail. Absently, the faucet turned and water began to gush out, thrumming to the beat of her frustration.

After a few minutes of self-loathing and contemplation, she heard the sound of the door open behind her, and saw a flash of Irish green fabric, before Cornelia came up behind her, a vision of concern. She startled as the small army of water gushing from the faucet turned on her, almost letting out a hiss of steam, before Irma quickly called it off, allowing it to taper down the drain and out of sight.

“Irma, are you okay? My parents thought I should check on you in case the wine didn't agree with you, but...”

“Yeah, it isn't the wine,” Irma sighed. “It's this whole place. I can't fucking believe your dad called this place rustic on the way here.”

“He doesn't know the meaning of the word,��� Cornelia agreed with a giggle. She wrapped her arms around Irma, leaning down to rest her chin on her shoulder. “You look amazing tonight.”

“Really?” Irma sighed. “I don't feel it. Or is this a classic 'lying to your girlfriend's face so she doesn't start crying in a stupidly fancy bathroom' tactic?”

“Well, it wouldn't be a great start to the meal.” Cornelia pressed a kiss to her jaw. “But I'm serious. You look great.”

“I'm practically bursting out of this dress. My tits are fighting for freedom. And my hair is coming undone and my stupid face is getting stupid red!”

“Of course it is, you've been drinking,” Cornelia said, rolling her eyes fondly. “And your face is the furthest thing from stupid, so don't even start.”

“I'm past the point of starting, Corny, I'm waist-fucking-deep in it. Look at this damn soap.” She gestured aggressively towards a shrivelled pebble in the basin. “That was shaped like a fucking seashell when I came in here and I picked and picked at it and now it looks like, I don't know, a really tiny golf ball?”

“Wow. Okay, let's take a step back from the soap.” Cornelia spun her around and rested her hands on her shoulders. “Irma, you look wonderful tonight. Seriously, you do, and I hate that going to this stupid dinner has made you so worked up.”

“It's not just the dinner.” Irma frowned up at her so-tall-it-was-unfair girlfriend. “Look at us. I mean, really look. We're like chalk and cheese, except, you're too pretty to be chalk. We're like – I don't know! An oil painting and cheese! I don't belong here eating food so fancy I can't pronounce it with wine I'm too weak to drink and in a dress that's too tiny for my damn good. You might fit into this magazine-spread life where everything is minimalist and perfect and velvet but I just don't. I saw it in the mirror this morning and I saw it in the mirror again just now. Are you honestly okay with that?”

“Why are you asking me this?” Cornelia asked, the smile gone from her face. “I love you. I love having you in my life. Sure, I like the nice material stuff sometimes, but if you think for one second that I'd put that stuff before you – before us – then the wine has definitely gone to your head.”

Irma huffed. After a beat, she muttered, “Rich people wine is ridiculous.”

“Agreed. Now, listen to me. We're too deep into this relationship to be hitting insecurities over stuff like this, got it? You know I come from money. You wanted to come on this trip with me. Unfortunately, that means seeing the way my family lives up close and personal. I just want you to remember that doesn't define me, or how I feel about you. I want you here. Okay?”

“I hate when you're being reasonable,” Irma groaned. She hugged Cornelia tight.

“Oof. Heh, don't tell me you're drunk already, we have the rest of a dinner to get through.”

“Are you gonna tell your parents tonight?” Irma mumbled into Cornelia's waist.

Cornelia hummed uncertainly. “Maybe. I don't know.”

“Well, remember I still love you. If you don't wanna come out here in this stupid fancy restaurant, no pressure. We'll make it happen some other time.”

“Hey, no need to comfort me, you're the one feeling insecure,” Cornelia teased. Irma lifted her head up to protest, and was met with Cornelia's lips pressing against her forehead.

“Ugh, you're too cute,” whined Irma. “If I weren't wearing heels I would go on my tiptoes and kiss you. And if you weren't wearing heels, we might actually be fucking level for once.”

“Thanks for clarifying that,” Cornelia quipped. “Not to worry, I can accommodate you.”

She leaned down and cupped Irma's cheeks, pulling her into a kiss.

The sound of the bathroom door abruptly shutting ended the sickeningly sweet moment, and they jolted apart. Lillian stood there, wide-eyed.

“Uhhh. Mom told me to come get you two, the main courses are out...” She blinked a few times. “Are you guys... lesbians?”

“Lillian,” Cornelia started, voice strained.

“I'm a lesbian,” Irma said with a shrug and an awkward chuckle.

“So you called me ignorant earlier even though you really are gay?”

“Ignorance is ignorance, sis.”

“Lillian, please don't tell Mom and Dad about this,” Cornelia pleaded. “I'm going to tell them myself, I just haven't had time to yet.”

Lillian folded her arms and huffed.

“I can't believe your mystery guy is just Irma.”

“Oh, ouch?”

Cornelia let go of Irma and approached Lillian.

“I'm serious. Can you please promise me you won't say anything?”

Lillian shrugged.

“I guess. I mean, I don't care about it. Not like they'd believe me anyway.” Seeing Cornelia's pinched expression, she sighed loudly. “All right, no. No, I won't say anything. So you can stop looking at me like that! Now come on, or Mom will be next to find us in here.”

As she pushed open the door to leave, she turned back.

“Also, Irma, you've got lipstick on your face. Hard to play dumb when the evidence is right there on your forehead.”

“When did she become such a smartass?” Irma muttered as Cornelia fished around in her clutch, bringing out a make-up wipe. “Look, don't panic. Lillian might be a pain, but she respects your business. Probably. I mean, I don't know her that well, but it's none of her business right? She knows that.”

“How did she seem to you?” Cornelia asked, chewing her lip. “Uncomfortable? Freaked out? D-Disgusted?”

“None. It was the same kind of grossed out she got when she caught you making out with Peter for the first time, I reckon. It was sibling disgust, not, y'know, her being a phobe.”

“Are you sure?” Cornelia fretted.

“Super sure. Now come on, you heard what she said. Lets go back before your mom drags us back by the ears.”

Irma reached over to squeeze her hand and didn't let go until they were out of the bathroom and in sight of the Hales. Elizabeth turned and shot them a disapproving look, motioning them back over, and Harold's face lit up with a delighted smile.

“I was starting to think the two of you had fallen in!” he joked, as they took their seats. “Is everything all right?”

“Oh, everything's fine,” Cornelia promised, a lie rolling effortlessly from her tongue as Irma stared down at the steak au poivre in front of her. “Irma just smudged her mascara and needed me to come to her rescue.”

“Ah, I see. Surely it shouldn't take that long though?” Elizabeth turned to Lillian. “Were they taking selfies?”

“Oh, they were having a gay old time in there,” Lillian deadpanned.

Cornelia froze. Irma dared to look up from her food to stare daggers at Lillan.

A moment passed, and Harold shrugged.

“Well, I'll never understand it, myself. But the youth of today are always finding beauty in everything! They can make moments last a lifetime! And I'm envious that an entire generation has learned to take pictures from an angle that certainly appear more flattering in post-production...”

As his speech continued, the tension melted away. Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at the two of them, as if to silently chastise them for sending Harold on a spiel about technological advancements, before tucking into her food.

Cornelia swiftly kicked Lillian under the table, but all she got back in response was an impish grin.

…

“Urgh, I'm full to burst.”

A now pyjama-clad Irma flopped face down on the pull-out bed, before rolling onto her side and burping softly into the back of her hand.

“I told warned you against dessert, if you recall,” Cornelia said with a grin, pulling her nightgown over her head.

“Yeah, but they had cheesecake. You know I'm weak for cheesecake, Corny.”

“That I do.” Cornelia lay down beside her. “I was a bundle of nerves the whole night.”

“Aw, come here.” Irma pulled Cornelia close, combing her fingers through her hair. “Lillian was just being a brat, that's all. She's got dirt on you, of course she's gonna poke a little fun. But she wasn't about to out you or anything.”

“I know,” Cornelia groaned. “I know. But she's on thin ice, I'm telling you now!”

“Well, the sooner you get it off your chest, the sooner she'll lose that power over you,” Irma pointed out. She yawned. “I'm pooped. Can you turn the light off? And then come spoon me?”

“Sure, your highness,” teased Cornelia, prying Irma's hands off her waist. As she wandered over to the light switch near the hallway, she caught sight of Lillian leaving the bathroom. The two stood there in silence for a few moments, before Cornelia uttered, “Hi.”

“Hi.” Lillian shifted from one foot to the other awkwardly. “Hey, Cornelia?”

“Yeah?”

“Um. I know I didn't say it at the restaurant, but... I don't like, mind or anything. About you and Irma.”

Relief washed over her.

“You don't?”

“No! And you should stop caring that somebody does, you know? Mom and Dad are whatever. I don't know if they'd care about it. But, it shouldn't matter if we mind or not, that's my point. It's about you and Irma, not about the rest of us. Although, since you're a lesbian now, I wish you had better taste in girls. I've seen her eat peanut butter out of the jar with her fingers,” Lillian pointed out, pulling a face.

Cornelia, stunned by the overload of information, leaned back against the wall.

“With her fingers?”

“Yup. It was our house peanut butter, too!”

Cornelia buried her head in her hands. “Oh my god. If I didn't love her so damn much that would for sure be a deal breaker. Also, I'm not a lesbian.”

“You're not?”

“No. I loved Peter, remember?”

Lillian pouted. “Yeah. I miss him.”

“I know you do, you remind me all the time.” Cornelia squared her shoulders. “Lillian, I'm pansexual.”

Lillian raised an eyebrow. “Pansexual?”

“Yes. Pansexual. I... fancy people regardless of whether they're a guy, a girl, or nonbinary.”

“Nonbinary?”

“The internet is a great place to learn about this stuff, since you're on the track to being an ally now.”

Lillian giggled.

“Yeah, I guess. Well, okay. So you're not gay, you're... what's the short of it? Pan?”

Cornelia nodded wordlessly.

“Okay. Cool. You're pan. And Irma's your girlfriend. And she's a lesbian?”

“Yes. You caught on fast.”

With a shrug, Lillian said simply, “It wasn't that hard to grasp. You're pan, Irma's gay, you're dating. That's that.”

Cornelia's mouth opened and closed a few times. At last, she uttered, “You made that seem really easy.”

“I'm a smart and socially aware kid,” Lillian said proudly, hands on her hips. Her smug expression softened. “And I'm happy you're happy. I was kinda thinking, cause you never mentioned your 'mystery uni boyfriend', that maybe you didn't really like him. I'm glad it's just a mix up.”

Cornelia's heart swelled, and she stepped towards Lillian, hugging her tight.

“You're a good sister.”

“And you're a clingy sister, god!”

They bid goodnight and Cornelia climbed into bed beside Irma, who had her back to her and was softly groaning. She yelped as Cornelia wriggled under the covers.

“Holy crap, Corny, your feet are colder than Mount fucking Thanos!”

“So warm me up.”

“Sorry, you got the wrong guardian for that party trick.”

Cornelia rolled her eyes fondly and reached around to spoon her.

“Geez, you ate too much. Your stomach feels like a rock.”

“Don't bully me, that was rich people food! How many times am I gonna get to eat like that again, huh?”

“If you'd just let me take you fancy places-” Cornelia pointed out.

“You know I hate fancy places!” whined Irma, punctuated by another burp. “Ugh. Just cuddle me to sleep, jerk.”

“Who are you calling a jerk, jerk?”

Cornelia obliged nonetheless, letting her body wrap around Irma's with a familiarity that had adapted over the years; from guardian sleepovers to family vacations to just the two of them drunkenly sprawled out in Cornelia's dorm. And now here they were, fitting together like jigsaw pieces, water and earth.

“Sweet dreams,” Cornelia whispered, pressing a kiss to the back of Irma's neck.

“Keep your lips to yourself, Corny,” mumbled Irma sleepily, snuggling closer all the same.

[akari-starlet]

My recent drawing with my sweet boy Dory! 🌾 It's his new intro for an ask-blog and it means there will be more of him in the future 🧡

[vanaera]

The Origin of the Songs

Synopsis | Every 1st of September, Jungkook manages to have you huddled with him under the starry linen of the blanket on your heads as he blows the candle and makes wishes. What happens to his wish now when the blanket’s constellations are too short to bridge the gap between you and him?

Genre | Fluff for the fluff birthday boy (football!jk + childhood friend!you / college!au)

Wordcount |3,497

Disclaimer | GIF credits to the rightful owner. I downloaded this back then and can’t remember the content creator. If you know them, please let me know so I can credit them. I’m still trying to find them😅

Read more football!jk drabbles in The Prince and His Rose

               The first September 1 Jungkook spent with you was when you’re a five-year-old with star-filled eyes and blank gaps filling the spaces of your teeth. It was his first birthday party and of course you, the first friend he ever made since moving in town (and the first person he found amazing aside from his mom), are invited. At four o’clock in the afternoon with his balloons still flat and lifeless, Jungkook’s tiny fingers are struggling to open the wooden door for you.

               “Happy birthday, Kook!” you greeted him, voice squeaky as always whenever he meets up with you at the playground before school.

               Instead of returning the greeting, Jungkook’s one-tracked mind dives straight towards the white box you were holding. “What’s that?”

               “Oh, this? It’s cake! My mom helped me bake it,” you said as you let yourself in his home and put the box on the counter. The gesture already ingrained in you as you frequently come to his house to drop some dish your mom made or snacks you have, before you tell him another story of yours. You turned to face him, giggling as you met his skeptic gaze.

               “Chocolate?”

               “Chocolate,” you assured with a grin.

               Sure enough, it was indeed chocolate when his dad opened the box for him by five o’clock and a crowd of familiar faces surrounded him with songs of “happy birthday!” Everything was a haze at that time, save for the enticing cake in front of him and your contagious smile spreading on your face as you pose beside him when his mother called to take a picture. He never met someone who smiled that bright as you and he decides maybe it’s because he’s feeling giddy about another story you’ll tell him later.  Anyway, he blew the candle and wished for great things to come. He doesn’t know what to wish actually but at the sight of the candle, all he could remember was how you always said to “wish for great things” whenever you’ll pick a dandelion in the playground. When the party toned down, he found himself tired from the crowd. He invited you to his room to build pillow forts and grab flashlights as you tell him another faraway castle with a prince whose hair is filled with stardust. He doesn’t remember much about each detail of the story when he woke up, but he remembers how happy he felt with the idea of a star prince…and also the idea that maybe you’re the only person, aside from his mom, who he can never get tired of.

               The next birthdays passed with home-baked chocolate cakes and a small celebration with your family and his mom as he blew his 9th and 10th candles. Of course, the night ended with you telling him another story about another faraway prince with an ambition set so high up in the heavens.

               It was by his 11th birthday that you decided to bring a “map” along with your baked chocolate cake so you could tick off every dream the princes in your stories have accomplished. Jungkook just raised his brows and chuckled at your antics, thinking he’s old enough now for fairytales and princes. His friends tell him so. Well, you just have to prove him wrong after the cake is finished and the candle’s fire is blown out when you let your “map” blanket the dim black of their leather couch.

               “This is not a map! It’s a blanket!”

               “It’s a blanket and it’s a map!” you chuckled.

               Jungkook fixed his gaze at you, very perplexed. “I don’t get you.”

               “You see those stars?” You pointed to the blue, yellow, and green stars on the far right. “Remember the sea prince, the star prince, and the forest prince? If you haven’t noticed by now, their stories are interconnected and look! Their stars are right next to each other! Even the skies approve of it. Get me now?”

               Jungkook nods, letting his eyes wander the indigo space of your blanket and the thousand colored stars laced on it. He remembers the adventures of the fire prince and his ice princess when he spotted the orange star beside the crystal white one, and oh! The friendly dragon and the frail prince were on the far right – a huge olive star beside a tiny carnation one. Amazed as he is with the map of the stories you created for the both of you, his breath was only taken away when his eyes catch the glimmer of a golden star on the far left edge. However, it’s strange that it wasn’t beside another star. You only told him about friendships and victorious battles of the princes. You haven’t told him of a lone prince in one of your tales. He can’t even remember an existence of one.

               “Hey, what’s that golden star?” Jungkook asks.

                Your eyes immediately light up, “Oh, it’s my favorite prince!”

               Favorite prince? Jungkook tilts his head.

               “I haven’t told you about it yet because I’m still thinking how his adventures will happen,” you told him as you went to the far right of the couch. “But just to give you something,” you chuckled, “this star right here is very important to him. The most important to him, actually.” You tap another star and Jungkook follows your finger as his eyes land on the scarlet star, the same size as the golden star. Looking back at your favorite prince, Jungkook only realizes the scarlet star is the only one aligned to the golden star. The rest are a centimeter higher or lower on the indigo space.

               “What’s that red star then?” Jungkook finds himself looking at your face, curiosity seeping in his bones.

               “It’s his rose.”

               “Rose?”

               “Rose. And he loves it very much,” you smiled.

               Jungkook can’t grasp well the idea of love yet but if you say the Golden Prince is indeed in love with the rose, then he’ll believe you. The scarlet tinge of the star is indeed attractive, no wonder the Golden prince will adore it. But maybe it’s just his bias to anything colored in any relative hue of red speaking. Nevertheless, Jungkook thinks your idea is amazing.

               “He’ll have adventures, right?”

               “Yes, he’ll have the most adventures than any prince in the universe.”

               The night of his birthday ended with constellations up on your heads with a flashlight in your hand to let him visually trail the paths the crystal prince took to return to his lost kingdom. Jungkook then decided that map of yours must always be available for the two of you whenever you feel like making an adventure. You happily agreed with a tingling laugh.

               The rest of his birthdays were spent with your family and his, sometimes with his and your friends. But what always remained constant were your sweet chocolate cake, his candle wishes which turned to hopes of great things to come to the both of you, and your map that will blanket you two under the tales of fantasies and happiness before you wish him goodnight. You kept this tradition constant when you went through the teenage angst of high school and until now in the whirlwind of college. Even when your schedules are giant obstacles for your cakes and blanket to align with September 1, you and Jungkook manages to look for loopholes that can lead for your two lines to meet up. Whether it’s cramped under a stormy night in a desolate 7-11 store, in a grand restaurant enough to accommodate his and your friends, in a warm get- together with your families when you’re able to go to your hometown, or even in an illegal escapade in your rooms praying your RAs won’t catch you, his birthday and wishes will always be spent with you.

               That’s why in the cold morning of one September 1, Jungkook was frowning from his side of the screen even after you just greeted him a gleeful “Happy Birthday!” that sounded so melodious in his ears.

               “What do you mean you won’t be able to come over?”

               “I – Jungkook, I have to go back home to retrieve the paper my dumb self left in my room last Saturday.” You brought the screen of your phone around your surrounding, letting his eyes take in the familiar bus the both of you always take when you’re going back home. “See? I’m already in the bus,” you returned the camera back to your cold flushed face. “Luckily I’m free this day so I can totally pass the paper by Friday on time. Though I have to take the earliest bus tomorrow to make it on time tomorrow.”

               Jungkook’s hand runs through his hair. “What–what if I come with you today?”

               “Hell no, Kook! You have a week worth of practice before you take on the Heatherfields next week. FYI, the inter-uni football league is next week. Coach Bang will kill you - and me, when he finds out he’ll miss his star player just because of his bestfriend’s dumb ass.”

               “Stop calling yourself dumb.”

               “Okay,” you breathe out. You look at his black hooded figure as you try to erase the frown settled on his lips. It’s his birthday, he shouldn’t be sulking like a loser. “Hey, let me tell you a joke.”

               “…Fine.”

               “Remember that time Seokjin was casted by the Drama club to be the ethereal lord with a dead girlfriend?”

               “I thought this was supposed to be a joke.”

               “Wait for it!” you exclaim to which he giggled.

               “Fine, fine, okay I remember,” Jungkook laughs.

               “So, that scene when he’s all sentimental and stuff then goes right out of the door to get soaked under the rain, don’t you think he’s really Kim SOAKjin?”

               Seems like your tactic worked when giggles erupted from his form, hands covering the lower part of his face as he chuckles before he releases them to full out laugh, “Oh my god, you did not just do that!”

               “Hell yeah, I did,” you laugh along, the pink tinge across your cheeks making Jungkook chuckle more.

               Damn, you look cute.

               When the giggles toned down, you hear him clearing his throat as he places his hands across his desk. “So you really won’t be able to come no matter what?”

               “Sadly, no,” you bite your lip, feeling the guilt of being unable to keep up the tradition you built with him. Your birthdays and his are established important occasions to both of you and you’ve been able to meet between the lines and deadlines for two years since the start of college. Your horribly conflicting schedules in junior year just have to be the biggest bitch right now. Dismissing bitter thoughts, you put a grin on your face again. “Say what, tomorrow when I come back, I’ll bring you two chocolate cakes! TWO!” you make a peace sign with your hands and shove it to the screen of your phone.

               “Okay, okay. I accept the amendment,” Jungkook says. Fingers twiddling with the strings of his hoodie, he knows it’s time to say farewell to you when you excused yourself for a minute to fix your belongings as more passengers enter the vicinity, a signal that the bus will soon leave.

               “Okay, I’m back.” You appear back on screen, grinning.

               “You’ve covered yourself enough for the cold?”

               “Mhmm,” you raise up your hand covered in your white puffy jacket, the seams of your thick rose sweater visible at the cuffs. Jungkook could also see glimpses of the red knitted scarf he made for your last year’s birthday folded on your lap. The thought of you wrapping it close around your neck later makes his chest warm.

               “Okay, have a safe trip and tell my folks I said hi.”

               “Sure will do, Star Kook!”

               “Okay, bye,” Jungkook waves.

               “Byeee,” you wave back.

               “Bye-bye.”

               “Byebye.”

               “Byeeeee.”

               “Byeeeee byeeeeeeee.”

               “Why aren’t you ending the call?”

                You tilt your head to the side, “’Cause you’re not ending it.”

               “Damn, it, I’ll end the call. Bye bye.” And Jungkook taps the red icon.

//

                 “Man, you like Y/N so much.”

               Jungkook chokes on his sandwich. Taehyung claps his back while grabbing some tissue to hand him. When he composed himself, Jungkook’s face suddenly flushes.“What-what the hell Tae? Where did that come from?”

               “See, you’re flushing with just the thought of it!”

               “I do not!” Jungkook almost screams. The scolding glare of Seokjin at the other end of the table makes the younger mumble an apology and lower down his voice. Jungkook looks back at his obnoxious friend who’s full out guffawing in front of him.

               “The more you deny it, the more it is indeed true,” Taehyung lets out in fit of giggles. Seeing the indifferent look in Jungkook’s face, he sits straighter and tries to point out again the conclusion he’s always proposing to the kid for months now. “Look at your face, you totally look like eating with us is not as fun as eating lunch with Y/N. When you’re with her, you’re full out laughing your ass every now and then. Y/N is not even that funny.” 

               “Hey, Y/N is funny!” Jungkook huffs.

              “Of course, she is. In your eyes, that is,” Taehyung chuckles. “I can’t even tell if her jokes are even jokes in the first place. She jokes worse than Seokjin.”

               “Hey!–

               Taehyung cuts their older friend and points at Jungkook, “Look, even without her here, you have that lovestruck look in your eyes when I mentioned her name.”

              “I’m not lovestruck! I don’t...have that look for her.”

              Taehyung cups his jaw, eyes glinting. “Then why do you look so down having lunch with us?”

              “I’m just – just,” Jungkook looks up thinking of a word to put it, “upset – yeah - upset because we won’t be able to meet up later. That’s that. I don’t miss her.” Jungkook doesn’t know who he’s trying to convince – his friend or him?

               “Yeah, upset just like that other day when you saw Jongin ask Y/N about the presentation at the drama club,” Namjoon snorts.

               “Hey, in my defense, that ballet boy is just irritating as hell and Y/N’s just nice enough to tolerate him – which I cannot do. Over.my.dead.body.”

               “He’s actually nice and he gets along with Y/N well,” Jimin chips in. “Why not make friends with him, too?”

                Jungkook frowns, “That’s clearly off-topic and hell no, I’d rather die than listen to him breathe.”

                “What did Jongin ever do to you?” Taehyung laughs, amused bewilderment across his features that also start to irritate Jungkook.

               “I don’t know. I just don’t like him.” Jungkook diverts his attention back to his sandwich. Why do his dumb friends always have to mention Jongin along the tornado of his feelings for you? Jongin is just plainly irritating and it doesn’t have to do with him getting jealous or stuff. Totally not.

               “Okay, I’ll drop the topic. It was just nice seeing you worked up and annoyed –“

               “-That’s because you’re an ass.”

               “That I admit just for now to pacify our ever hot-blooded Jungkookie. Anyway,” Taehyung fixes his seat, “without Y/N or not, the dinner at Vincent’s is still on, okay? Don’t sulk too much.”

               Jungkook just hums.

               After the practice on the field, Jungkok went to Vincent’s for their reservation and the night was somehow fun. Yoongi got him a pair of headphones he’s been eyeing in the record shop nearby, Namjoon paired up with Hoseok to give him another Iron Man mini figure he’s collecting, Seokjin gave him some cash (‘cause graduating future news anchor friend of his is too busy nowadays), while Taehyung and Jimin bought him another perfume. The pizza and board games was fun. Especially when he won against Seokjin in Monopoly and he beat Namjoon in scrabble for the very first time. Although Jungkook thinks Namjoon deliberately let him win just because it’s his birthday, a victory is still a victory. But no matter how much he’s already happy with his birthday night, Jungkook can’t deny something is still missing.

               Lying on the football field after he parted ways with his friends, Jungkook finds it hard to be contented. You texted him around five in the afternoon that you just got home and maybe the prolonged silence after that is what drives him up the wall. You may have fallen asleep from the long travel, or maybe you’re out with your family – it’s totally understandable. But why isn’t he settled with just a birthday wish from you even if you’re the first one to ever greet him this day?  Why isn’t he satisfied with just at least seeing your face and hearing your voice? Focusing his eyes up ahead into the heavens of countless of stars he and you made a version of your own, Jungkook thinks he has the answer evident long enough to these questions.                

 //

                 After fixing the cartons of cake you’ll bring tomorrow in the refrigerator, you bid your parents and younger brother goodnight as you make your way to your bedroom. The whole trip was tedious just for one hefty paper you left at home over the weekends but at least, you got to spend some time with your family before you head into the big city again. Your bags are already arranged and you’re well set up for another early morning wake-up alarm. Switching off your bedside lava lamp, you’re about to delve into much-needed sleep when–

              “Hey, psst!”

              “What the fuck-” You turn on your bedroom lights and head to the windows where the voice came from and–

               “Jungkook?!”

               “Hi,” Jungkook waves, grinning, “Would you let me in?”

               “What the fuck you’re doing at the window? You could just knock on the door and let yourself in.” Despite your expletives, the warm smile on your barefaced skin knocks the air out of Jungkook (though he won’t admit that) as he pulls himself in your room with a loud “thud!”, the sound much louder than he intended to be thanks to his large ass duffel bag.

               “Why the hell did you go here? It’s a freaking long travel!” You chortled, helping him up on his feet.

               “I can’t sleep on my birthday,” Jungkook gulps. “I need you by my side wishing candles on the cake you made and I want that starry blanket of yours too,” Jungkook blurts out and though he doesn’t want to meet your gaze, he could sense the warmth suddenly emanating from you.

               “Okay, birthday boy. I’ll get the cake.”

               Sure enough, a few minutes later, you’re on your wooden floorboards with a chocolate cake in front of you as your blanket lay atop of your heads.

               “Sorry, I’m not prepared to have enough candles today,” you apologized, rubbing your arm.

               “It’s okay, at least you got one,” Jungkook chuckled.

               In the serene night and pink glow of your room, your voice suddenly fills his ears.

               “Happy Birthday to you, Happy birthday to you

               Happy birthday, dear Jungkook,

               Happy birthday to you.”

               Jungkook sits stupefied, blank face watching yours smile so wide and so bright, his chest rumbles with a melody he never heard before, or actually failed to hear. It can’t be - Shit, damn it, I really do like her. And he knows he can’t deny it anymore when you meet his gaze, soft waves of your hair framing a face he never thought in his life he would call beautiful until now.

               “Make a wish, Kook.”

               Jungkook almost stops breathing. Your breath fanning his cheeks, making his hair on his neck stand. Your lips are mere centimeters away from his and everything about you, you, and you filling his senses that he just- “Okay I’ll make a wish now.”

                He blows the candle and he finds himself staring at your amused face again.

               “I didn’t imagine we could actually keep up the birthday tradition today.”

               Jungkook’s lips pull into a contented smile.“Me too.”

               Before you can tear your gaze away from him, Jungkook’s hand clasps around yours. “Would you–would you mind telling me the story of the Prince and His Rose again?”

               “Of course not, Kook.”

               With chocolate cake half-finished and small plates covered in remnants of the sweet treat, you tell him about the story of a love filled with devotion as it encompasses whatever distance and opposing gravitational pulls the indigo swirls of the universe inflicts. The idea of the golden prince and his determination for his rose and the rose’s entrustment of her petals to the prince would forever warm Jungkook’s insides. It already started to make birds out of his ribcage to sing out melodies of adoration synonymous to the prince.

               Lying on the extra mattress you provided for him on the floor, Jungkook doesn’t know if you’re already asleep or not, but he still tries. “Do…Do the prince and his rose always end up together?”

               “…Always.”

               He doesn’t know if it’s actually you or your subconscious talking to him, but it sure does lighten his chest he felt he could just combust right here, right now with just–just everything he suddenly felt just because of the thought of finally knowing what it’s like to adore someone so much. It’s new–too new for him but Jungkook knows he won’t regret anything that led him to this if he gets to feel this way.

               I hope they do. I wished for it to happen so.

Epilogue:

Fuck, Tae, I really do like her.

You finally realized just now?!

A/N | First of all, I didn’t actually plan to make a birthday fic for our honey bunny Jungkook, but anyways enjoy my impromptu post for our golden prince! Jeon Jungkook, I hope you continue fulfilling your dreams and I wish you the best in your endeavors! I love you so much!

(BTW I’m currently working and editing on some requests, just in case you’re curious about the requests you sent me. I want to make them with the best I can so I hope you’ll continue your support and cheer for me. Thank you so much!)

P.S. The Unread messages fic will be updated!

All Rights Reserved © Vanaera. No reposts, modifications, and translations of content is allowed without direct permission.

[ankahikoibaat]

WIP Whenever

tagged by: @littleblackraincloudofcourse tagging: @heatherfield @storyspinner91 @firstelevens @cypresssunn @thegreencarousel @thesecondbatgirl @mid-nighttiger @noneedforbloodpressure @brachiosaurus-on @nurselaney @redminibike1 and honestly whoever wants to

She beamed again before beckoning them further into the small house, past the living room and to the dining room where a veritable feast had been set up. “Do forgive the informality of it all, sir. We are a simple household, and we much prefer comfort to standing on ceremony.” Despite her words, she was still smiling, and there was no unease in her posture. It spoke to just how far she had come from the woman described in Mary’s earlier letters that he could not help his own smile on his lips. Honesty he offered in turn, and there was a complete lack of sheepishness in his answer. “Ceremony can be such a bore, Mrs Bennet. Comfort with friends is by far preferable.”

from the last chapter i completed for what i call the letters fic. i need to write the chapter following this!

[mystical-flute]

Tagged by @heatherfield

RULES: We’re snooping on your playlist. Set your entire music library on shuffle and report the first 10 songs that pop up. Then choose 10 victims.

Friend Like Me - James Monroe Inglehart/Aladdin OBC

In My Own Little Corner - Laura Osnes/Victoria Clark (Cinderella OBC)

Lucky - Britney Spears

Cell Block Tango - Chicago movie cast

Leave Out All The Rest - Linkin Park

Look What You Made Me Do - Taylor Swift

On Top of the World - Imagine Dragons 

Hold Me Tight or Don’t - Fall Out Boy

In My Dreams - Anastasia OBC

All You Wanted - Michelle Branch

Tagging, should you wish to do this: whoever

[therealkrisrob]

JUST LISTED! 2223 Amboy Dr Louisville, KY 40216 3 beds 2 baths 1,432 SF Description Your beautiful home awaits! Nestled in the Heatherfields Subdivision, this 3 bedroom/2 bath home has been totally renovated. It has been freshly painted, new lighting fixtures and hardwood floors throughout. The master suite includes a bath and also features dual walk in closets. The eat-in kitchen has granite countertops and easy close cabinets. There is a separate laundry room, an enclosed porch and covered deck. Last but not least is a gated detached 2-car garage and large back yard for entertaining. This home will sell fast, call today to set up a showing! SoldByChrisRobinson.com 502-931-1139 https://www.instagram.com/p/CfJ1WsWADYh/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[aelsell]

@aerokinesiiss

Her eyes were kept on the ground as Tilda wove her way through the crowd of people. The street was busy this time of day, filled with noise and smelling of home. But she did not feel at home, she did not feel as happy as she should have been upon returning to her own world. Meridian was dying and the more time Tilda spent away from it, the more she realised how much it had changed under Phobos reign. The young rebels heart was heavy with grief and it seemed to grow heavier with every step. She should not have come.  Tilda knew that. She had known it before setting out from the Cook’s house to find the secret portal, she had known it even before then when she kept that portal secret. The guardians were keeping her safe, helping her, helping her people. What she was doing in return... It felt like a betrayal. Yet the urge inside her heart was growing stronger, stronger even than the grief. Tilda had not visited her mother, or what was left of her, in such a long time, she had to do it. She told herself she had to, but while her feet found the way and her head was lost in thought someone else crossed the young girl’s path. Someone that did not fit into this city, just like Tilda did not fit into Heatherfield.