#hopefully her shirt print looks like flowers ...

[mtsodie]

gave her a proper name and reference ... say hi to amari

[sirfrogsworth]

Photo Restoration Project - Part 1

A long time ago, Katrina sent me some old photos of her family I could restore. Her parents have been helping me from afar for years and I really wanted to do something nice for them. Unfortunately my dad got much worse and I pretty much forgot about this project for quite some time.

But then I decided to visit Katrina in Orlando and we discussed having dinner with her parents and I remembered these photos. So I thought I would fix them up so I could present them as a gift in person.

The first and most important photo was from her parents wedding.

Old photo prints can fade over time due to UV light exposure. From what I understand, different colors fade at different rates and red/orange tones tend to be the least susceptible to this fading. Thankfully all of the color information is still there, it's just that the darks are not as dark and the lights are not as light. The dynamic range got squeezed like an accordion. However, if you do a levels adjustment on the red, blue, and green channels individually, you can unsqueeze the accordion and balance everything back to the way it was.

But you can't always save everything and there may be other damage that needs fixing. If something becomes pure white, there is no way to restore that detail. Thankfully I was able to use the new generative fill feature to bring back detail in the dress, the flowers, and the tuxedo shirt.

And because I hate front facing flash and how it makes colors look ugly and sterile, I may have also added a marble floor and pillars.

Next up was a photo of Anastasia, Katrina's mom, protesting Henry Kissinger on behalf of her home country of Greece. This suffered from the same color fading issues.

What made this one a little more tricky was an uneven fading. The left side had to be adjusted independently and the top was even more faded. I had to isolate the trees to bring back their color. And the protest signs were difficult to read, so I enhanced those as well.

Next we have this lovely photo of Anastasia tending to some house plants.

This photo was actually in decent shape. It lost a little contrast, had a little bit of fading, and her top retained almost no detail I could recover. Recovering accurate skin tones is probably one of the most important skills I learned when restoring these photos. I wanted to keep that filmic look of the era while avoiding making people look jaundiced or pale. Lightroom's new masking feature that let's you isolate every aspect of the people it detects in a photo. This made fixing skin tones much easier. I could isolate just her face or her lips or her hair or her eyes and make precise individual adjustments. This process could have taken a great deal longer without this feature. But, I brought back proper contrast and color, added a little bit of detail to her top with gen fill, and hopefully got fairly accurate skin tones as well.

Next up, forward facing flash strikes again in a photo of Mike and Anastasia during Christmas.

Film did not do well in low light. If it was indoors and nighttime, you pretty much had no choice but to use flash. But a flash is a very small, bright light source and this causes a very unflattering result on humans. Today we have much more powerful flashes with rotating heads. We can bounce the light into the ceiling or off a wall and increase the size of the light source to get a more flattering result.

In this photo I wasn't able to do much, so I just balanced the skin tones and brought out some hidden detail and called it a day. It's still a lovely memory and thankfully film has such character that it negates a lot of the unflattering aspects of direct flash.

Next up is some cuteness...

A big priority when editing photos is to make sure the subjects are the star of the photo. And in this one their faces were a bit obscured in shadow. There was also a lot of haze in the background hiding the beautiful vista. Not to mention when I cleared that haze, there was this super faint hint of something in the sky. I can't tell if it was a rainbow, but I decided to believe it was a rainbow. The only thing that I am still struggling with, and this seems to be common with a lot of old photos, is green. Getting a good, saturated, natural green to look right has been very difficult. Everything I try ends up looking toxic or fake. The only thing that ends up looking right with the rest of the photo is more of a yellow-y brown. It's something I'll have to work on as I learn, but as long as the overall photo looks balanced and natural, I'm okay with not perfectly nailing the greens.

Up next we have a lovely scene on a Greek dock...

As far as editing goes, this was pretty basic. I just undid the fading, adjusted the skin tones, replaced the blown-out sky, and made the colors pop. But I think this is actually one of my favorite before and after shots. I just love how such a simple fix brought this scene to life.

A new car is a big deal and Anastasia looks so proud here...

This image has another common issue in addition to the typical fading of colors. It has a yellowish orange color cast. This could have been an issue with the film used or the development process or a chemical reaction on the print. A color cast is a lot like looking through colored glasses. It's like a translucent color material was put on top of the image. This can be a little trickier to deal with, but if you know your color theory, you might already know the solution. Blue is the opposite of yellow/orange on the color wheel, so if you introduce blue to the image it should balance out. Also, add a sky if it was missing.

Next up we have a landscaping project...

This one wasn't too tricky, but there was one interesting issue I had to address. All light has a color temperature. Daylight has a temperature of around 5500K. But the inside of the garage was being lit by reflected light and so that light took on the color temperature of the things it was bouncing off of. So I had to mask out the people and the car and address the color temperature inside the garage to make everything look balanced. Also, the green fought me hard on this one. And with the theme of this picture being plants, I felt I really needed to find a tone that worked. I think I finally got there, but I spent way too much time in the color picker doing trial and error of green tones. Also, new sky.

With this next one I actually did a pretty thorough explanation of how I edited it. But this was probably my favorite puzzle to solve from this collection of photos.

I'll do the abridged explanation...

The physical photograph was printed on a paper with a very heavy texture. And when it was scanned, the light from the scanner bounced off that texture and created a pattern of unwanted highlights.

I was worried this was impossible to fix and I almost gave up on this photo. But after one final Google search I discovered something called "Fast Fourier Transform." It's a mathematical formula that can be used to detect patterns. And the image editing software Affinity Photo, just so happens to have a filter called FFT denoise that helps you remove unwanted patterns from scanned photos.

And thanks to that filter, I was able to remove a substantial amount of that pattern...

Then I did my standard clean up techniques...

Oh, and I decided to try learning how to colorize.

Photoshop has a new set of experimental filters and a colorization tool is one of them. It is not great yet, but it is a great starting place. Instead of having to hand paint every single thing in the photo, Photoshop gave me a base to work with and I could take it from there with traditional techniques.

That's all I have the energy for today, but there are a bunch of cool restorations to talk about. Hopefully you all find this interesting. It was such a great gift to give to Katrina's parents. And spending that time with them and making them happy felt like I was with my own parents again. So we all got a gift in that wonderful evening.

Part 2 coming as soon as I have the energy!

[samgelina-jolie]

It all started a week ago. Steve had come along to The Hideout, decked in his darkest polo shirt. It was the first gig he'd come to since him and Eddie had officially- as Robin put it- 'got their shit together'.

Steve had met the band plenty of times already, and while they'd been pretty standoffish at first, he liked to think he got along with them pretty well. Jeff actually shared a similar taste in music (even admitting to liking ABBA because it reminded him of his mother) and he'd known enough about Star Wars and a mix of Dustin's interests to win over Seth. It was harder to read Gareth, but Steve had assumed they were at least acquaintances.

That was until Steve had walked up to the bar where Gareth was talking to some girl, and then Gareth had said the meanest thing imaginable.

"He's my buddy's boyfriend."

Eddie hadn't seen what the big deal was. But Steve understood the importance of befriending your partner's best friend.

Well, back in high school, Steve had never really bothered with his girlfriend's friends. He'd focused on putting in effort with the girls he found attractive, wooing them with flowers and gifts. The girls who he wanted to like him did, he didn't really care how much the other girls didn't. The only job the best friend really had in his mind was picking up the pieces after he left those girls in the dust.

That was all before Nancy, of course. She'd been so adamant about him making an impression on Barb, so he'd tried. He invited her to parties, kept Carol and Tommy off her back, even tried to back her up once or twice when Barb and Nancy were bickering.

And it worked out... kind of. Barb had still rolled her eyes whenever Steve opened his mouth, but she was also the one who pulled him aside and saved him a whole lot of embarrassment and heartache.

"I'm telling you this because I would want to know, and because I guess you're not the worst person in the world. Nancy has been hanging out with Jonathan a lot lately... I just think maybe you should pay a bit more attention to it."

But besides him and Nancy as a couple not working out, he'd realised how important being on good terms with the person you're dating's friends is to being a good boyfriend. Which is why it was integral that he became proper friends with Eddie's best friend.

--

"What are you wearing?"

Steve had just walked into the Munson trailer. He'd spent nearly an hour trying to perfect his hair, so he's mildly offended that his outfit is the first thing his boyfriend noticed. Steve glanced down at his shirt with the huge Green Day logo printed onto it. He wasn't sure why Eddie looked so appalled, it wasn't dirty or anything.

"Oh, Gareth let me borrow it. Cute right?" Eddie's nose scrunched up even further, full on glaring at the offensive item.

"I can't let you into my room with that shirt on."

"Well hopefully once we get to your room neither of us will have our shirts on" Steve chuckled, leaning in for a kiss but Eddie turned his head.

"I'm serious, big boy. The polos and tight jeans, you're whole hot preppy look actually, that all really does it for me and you know it. But this?" He pulled at the fabric of the shirt. "This is the one piece of clothing I never want to see you in."

Steve scoffed. Eddie pushed him gently away with a shake of his head.

"I'm turning off the benefits."

"What benefits?"

"The sex benefits, no more sex until you admit you're not a Green Day fan and we burn that shirt."

"Eddie this is my in with Gareth! He's finally starting to warm up to me." Steve whined. "Besides, you can't just, like, turn off us having sex!"

"Oh yes I can. All I have to do is think about you in this abominable outfit and my boner just-" He whistles, imitating his finger deflating. Steve pouted. He knew rationally he could just give Gareth back the shirt, but that would mean embarrassingly admitting he didn't like Green Day to Gareth and then trying to find another in with him.

So no, Eddie was just being unreasonable.

Anyway, he was totally bluffing about the sex. Steve hoped.

--

"It's been five days Robin! I mean, we haven't gone that long without having sex since.. since we started having sex!" Steve cried, following the woman around as she restocked the shelves. Even though he couldn't see her face he could tell she was rolling her eyes.

It was a serious situation though, at least in Steve's opinion. He and Eddie hung out all the time, and while he obviously enjoyed doing other things with his boyfriend, he wished the other man would at least have the decency to not be so sexy while performing daily tasks. Steve had been this close to jumping him in the frozen food section of the grocery store yesterday.

And he knew he wasn't the only desperate one, Eddie was suffering too. Obviously he'd assumed Steve would cave after a day, because he'd been all jumpy and grouchy for nearly a week. And he kept making that face that Steve recognised all too well whenever Steve did anything even slightly suggestive. Like when he'd bent down to put his laundry in the dryer, and when he turned back around Eddie was beet red and avoiding eye contact.

"Have you tried breaking out the old Harrington seduction techniques yet?" Robin shrugged, obviously not bothered by the fact her best friend was on the verge of death due to lack-of-sex-with-his-really-hot-boyfriend disease.

The thing was, he had tried his old methods. He tried wearing tighter shirts, that strained around his arms and showed off his midriff (but always making sure he was wearing some kind of Green Day memorabilia, because damn him if he wasn't going to be right about this). He'd invited Eddie along to his and Lucas' basketball game. He even tried straight up begging, knowing how much that usually gets Eddie worked up.

And nothing!

Although, there was still one move he hadn't tried yet...

--

"You want to what?" Eddie shot him an incredulous look.

"Help you study, of course. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't help you with your problems? Besides I have this really neat method to help you revise." Steve let himself into the trailer and Eddie's room. He wasn't wearing a Green Day shirt today, but he did have a wristband, something he knew Eddie had spotted already as he walked into the room with his arms crossed.

"Right. And what method would this be?"

"Every time you get an answer right, I take off a item of clothing, and vice versa." Steve plopped himself down on the unmade bed, which he'd missed dearly. Eddie hadn't even let them take naps together in his room, insisting 'spooning almost always leads to sex with you'.

Eddie considered his offer carefully, before nodding with a shit eating grin. Steve cheered internally.

"Great!" Steve smiled before adding "Your rings all count as one item by the way." He tried not to look too smug at the way Eddie's confident grin faltered.

The game reached its boiling point very quick. Eddie had known more about Geography then Steve had expected, which reflected in the fact he only had his boxers and one sock left on. Eddie, however, wasn't doing too much better, sat in only his jeans (and Steve suspected no underwear underneath).

He's not sure who kissed who first, but suddenly Steve was pressed against the mattress, Eddie's thigh between his legs. Excitement coursed through him, his body so receptive to Eddie's touch after so long he wasn't even embarrassed at the noises he was letting out. His hips bucked up, causing Eddie to groan into his mouth.

"So the Green Day thing?" Eddie mumbled between kisses down Steve's neck. The noise Steve made was loud and high pitched, almost drowning out the man's next words. "It's over then?"

Steve paused, the hand that had been trailing down his boyfriend's chest pushed firmly against him as he pulled away.

"Over because you've let it go, right?" He mumbled. Eddie pulled back, his lips red and glossy.

"No, over because you let it go?" Steve huffed, sitting up and pulling his clothes back on. He tugged his jeans on in annoyance, storming out of the bedroom.

"You know what, I'm turning off the benefits now! No sex until you admit Green Day are better than... than Dio!" Steve yelled. He was irritated and extremely worked up but he was also incredibly stubborn. He heard a squawk of protest from behind him as he made his way outside.

"That wasn't even the rule!" Eddie called out, but Steve ignored him. He was not loosing this fight.

--

Listen, Metal music was fine, Steve endured listening to it with Eddie like he endured watching sports games with Steve. He was content in the knowledge that not loving every single one of each other's interest didn't mean they didn't love each other.

Punk was fine too, it still wasn't Steve's thing really, but it was okay and while Steve couldn't tell the difference, according to Gareth there was one. A huge one, if the way he'd been ranting about it for the past hour was anything to go by.

But between fighting with his boyfriend (because it was a genuine fight at this point), not having any sex for nearly two weeks, and being stuck listening to someone talk about something you have no interest in for hours, Steve couldn't take it anymore.

"I don't like punk music! I listen to Queen and Cyndi Lauper and sometimes Madonna and happy music that I can dance to without thinking about America's political landscape!" He blurted out. Gareth stopped his rambling about how Rob Harper was a better drummer than Pete Something, flashing Steve a confused expression.

"Then why were you pretending to?" He asked.

"I... I just didn't want you to just see me as 'Eddie's boyfriend'. I wanted to be your friend and Jeff told me you like punk music so I brought it up and..."

"Look, you are Eddie's boyfriend. Yeah, you're an okay dude, but I can acknowledge that without us having to do the whole friendship thing too, you know?" Gareth shrugged. Steve deflated.

"Right." He said, quickly making an excuse and leaving. Gareth shrugged off the weird feeling the guy's sad puppy dog eyed had given him, grabbing Steve's fries.

He felt kind of embarrassed that he'd been talking for ages with someone who didn't even care. He supposed it was nice of Steve to make the effort, Gareth wasn't aware he'd been trying so hard honestly. Jeff and Seth had warmed up to him pretty quickly but he thought that was just because they were just softies that were no immune to the 'Harrington Charm'.

"Steve?!" A loud yell startled him out of his thoughts.

Eddie stormed into the bar, wearing- holy shit, Gareth felt like he must have hit his head and started hallucinating. This day had taken such a weird turn, because there Eddie Munson stood before him decked out in a 'I heart Green Day' shirt. He also looked like it was taking every ounce of self control not to rip it off his body like it burned.

"Finally come around on the punk scene, Munson?" Gareth chortled. Eddie threw a fry at his face.

"Shut your trap, I need to find Steve before one of the gremlins sees me in this, they're too impressionable." He muttered, taking a seat as he looked around the bar.

"If this is a Steve thing you can stop anyway man, he admitted he doesn't really like them that much. It's kind of weird I mean, who lies about being into something to get someone to like them?"

"Dude, I spent the whole summer eating ice cream as a lactose intolerant person because Steve worked at Scoops Ahoy. He was just trying to find something for you to be friends about." Eddie shot him an unimpressed look, which Gareth thought was a bit high-and-mighty considering he just admitted to basically poisoning himself on a weekly basis for a guy he'd thought was straight at the time.

"Why exactly?"

"I don't know, Steve likes being close to people? He's basically besties with his ex girlfriend, man. Why are you so adamant he can't be yours?" Gareth considered this.

He remembered when Eddie had first told the band he was dating Steve Harrington. They'd all thought he was kidding, but there he was at their next rehearsal, cheering them on and spending his breaks holding Eddie's hand.

Gareth thought maybe it was a joke to Steve. Messing with the guy who likes men by making him think he has a shot with the former prom king. He thought it would end with Eddie in tears, and that had probably made him a bit more defensive than he needed to be. Maybe there was a small part of him, no matter how great Steve seemed, that still believed the guy was setting his best friend up for heartbreak.

"Look, I get that you might have reservations about him. But all I'm saying is- and I've got about a dozen preschoolers and multiple full grown adults that would back me up- Steve Harrington is a pretty great friend to have. So if he offers you friendship, you should take it." Eddie snatched a handful of fries as he got up, leaving Gareth alone at the bar.

--

Steve was half way out the door, wearing nothing but Eddie's Dio vest and grey sweatpants when he saw Eddie. He was standing in front of him, eyeing Steve like a starved man presented with a stake. Steve guessed he probably had a similar look, smiling at the Green Day shirt the man was wearing.

"Oh my god take your pants off." Eddie basically growled, slamming the front door to Steve's house shut as he stalked towards him. He pulled Steve into a ferocious kiss, hands quickly travelling down to his ass.

"Leave the shirt on." Steve gasped out. Eddie let out a muffled groan into his neck. They ran to the bedroom, loosing the vest and both of their pants on the way.

--

"Steve? You home, man?" Gareth heard a loud noise inside, followed by hopping, then Steve opened the door slightly. He was sweaty and shirtless, and his hair was a mess. He'd probably just been working out or whatever jocks did in their spare time.

"Listen, I'm sorry about what I said at the bar. You're a cool guy, I'd like for us to be friends, really. I even thought of something we could bond over; haircare. I've actually been meaning to ask you for some tips anyway." He admitted. Steve beamed, Gareth was almost scared the incredibly sweaty man was about to pull him into a hug. He didn't, he just kept smiling.

"That's real nice for you two, maybe next he'll ask you to prom!" Eddie's voice rang out from somewhere behind the door. Steve flushed a little and hushed him. Gareth was kind of confused as to why Eddie voice sounded so coarse and breathless, he didn't think Eddie had ever voluntarily exercised in his life.

"I would really like that, Gareth. I'll tell you everything you need to know, come by anytime. Except right now." He smiled again before slamming the door. Gareth heard more noises inside, wondering what the fuck they were up to until he heard a loud moan. Oh God, Gareth started running.

Still, he couldn't help but smile. It was always nice to make more friends.

[daemonoferror]

A date to Build-a-Bear with your Scarlet Hollow SO

Includes: Stella, Avery, Kaneeka, Oscar, Reese, and Wayne

Note: idk, earlier this year I got sad I couldn't just. Go to build a bear. So I started writing these. Reader is hardly mentioned but I did write it in the spirit of you being there.

Stella

• No clue how you got her there, but hey, you did it.

• Gretchen's going with you by the way, that's a given but I think important to mention.

• Go around Halloween, hopefully someday they'll have the mothman bear we've all dreamed of.

• Stella has so many ideas for what to make, though.

• Get a Halloween themed bear- no wait, a dog- no wait, this one looks really fucking stupid it's perfect- no wait-

• You have to go multiple times so she gets every bear she can think of.

• If she can make one look like Gretchen or a cryptid that'd be perfect

• But she'd also love to make a really screwed up, funny looking bear. Like-

• "Oh yeah, I noticed this one's missing an eye so. I'm getting this one." "This shirt has a typo on it, that's so funny i love it" "do you think they'll let me mismatch the shoes??" "a HOOK HAND ACCESSORY?! Well obviously I need that"

• You would not be able to tell a grown woman made this bear.

• She'll DIY it clothes later, it has it's own little wardrobe of wacky outfits

• She'll buy accessories she thinks Gretchen could wear.

• Lets Gretchen lick the heart before it's put in the bear

• Might get a sound effect heart but worries it'll be too annoying.

• If she got a scentiment it'd probably be the pumpkin one or... pizza? Because that existed, apparently?

• Names it something silly- an old man name like Harlod. Or give it a cryptid name.

• Absolutely fucking loved the date, she's already planning the next trip there.

--

Avery

• They'll think the idea is very cute.

• Make sure to go around spring/saint Patrick's day.

• Wants a flower print or green bear. (The point of going near saint Patrick's day is too ensure there's a shamrock bear to meet these requirements)

• Chooses the lavender scentiment for their bear.

• Will do that thing where you record a message for eachother's bear. They'll do a simple "I love you *kiss noise*" and it makes you swoon. They are SO perfect.

• You make a plant pun for their's, they love it no matter how stupid it is.

• They somehow make doing the heart ritual look cool?

• Finds a plant shirt and the bear's fate is sealed: they're gonna match :o

• The bear will be just as stylish as them (maybe more, I keep imagining Avery giving it a monocle accessory)

• Either names it after a plant- Like Magnolia or Clover- or names it the same way they name their plants (assuming they name their plants bc... who doesn't?)

• Very happy with the date and their bear, will show it off to everyone. Maybe it has a place at the diner- if they can find a spot garunteed to not get maple syrup spilled on it, anyways.

--

Kaneeka

• She probably came up with the idea, but feels a little silly about it at first because it seems so childish.

• Go around Halloween to once again ensure the pick of a spooky lil bear

• She takes it very seriously- this is gonna be the best goddamn bear ever.

• There are 2 wolves fighting inside Kaneeka: The goth and the nerd.

• So she's having a difficult time choosing between whatever collab buildabear is doing at the time (superheroes, sonic, Mario, whatever) or making the coolest goth bear you've ever seen.

• Please just let her get both 🥺

• Thin mints cookie scentiment for one bear, coconut for the other.

• Will do a cute sound effect for her bear. She would suggest recording one for eachother, but she doesn't know what to say.

• She's not mismatching the collab bear, it's getting the accessories that was made for it.

• The goth bear will get the nicest outfit ever, in all blacks and dark colors.

• She'll also DIY it clothes to fit her aesthetic better

• Gives it a very pretty, elegant name, like Celeste or Audrey

• The other bear, she fills it out the exact way she would for the character, which just feels like extra work.

• "Why does Batman need a birth certificate? He's batman." Proceeds to do the right thing and names it Bruce Wayne and changes the birthday to the right birthday.

• Thinks it was the perfect date, and is really happy you went together.

--

Oscar

• You'll be forced to take Rosalina and her friends with you, so not really a date. He'll see it as more of an outing for the kids, but it's kinda fun to participate.

• Gets the classic bear with brown, curly fur.

• Won't get a scent or a sound effect.

• Is a bit embarrassed to do the heart ritual, but turns it around quickly, joking that a teddy bear's heart transplant is no laughing matter.

• Won't want to get accessories because those cost money, but if you insist because you're paying, he'll cave and give it a dapper little suit and glasses. Maybe a top hat. A mini book to read. It'll be so cute.

• Gives it a bear pun or a book reference that no one gets for a name.

• Is very tired at the end of the day from being dragged around the mall by a bunch of tweens, but he gets home and still thinks it was a good day. Probably falls asleep with the bear. Though that will sadly be the only time, he keeps it on a night stand or bookshelf so it won't fall off and roll under the bed. He'd have a heartattack if he lost it.

--

Reese

• He never went to build a bear as a kid so this is gonna be so great for him.

• Picks out a very soft, cute bear

• Maybe like, the patchwork one with the sewed on heart? Idk why, if just seems right.

• He feels a little out of place, he's not used to cute things. He just sorta picks whatever he vibes with, and it comes out pretty cute and simple.

• He holds it very gently, like it could tear or fall apart at any second.

• Might buy a black or white shirt he can paint later, or a sweater so it doesn't get cold 🥺

• Paint brush accessory

• Blueberry scentiment, doesn't need any sound effects (unless there's a construction noises one LMAO)

• Doing the heart ritual heals his inner child

• Understuffs his bear just a little bit so it's softer

• Names it something absolutely BADASS "Nightmare" "Knight of Dreams" something awesome and cool idfk he's the creative one not me

• Has so much fun, might get sentimental about it. You can pry that bear from his cold dead hands.

--

Wayne

• . . . Why?

• A goop monster walks into a kids store. Screaming and crying insues. And then you're alone in the store.

• The employees might even be out of there, they don't get paid even for this.

• He's just happy to be with you, does not give 2 shits about the teddy bear at first. He adores seeing you having fun, is happier that you're not doing something dangerous.

• DO NOT let him touch the damn bear until it has some washable clothes on!! He can POINT at what he wants!! >:(

• Gets a simple bear, either a very old fashion basic one or just gets the same as you.

• Snazzy little jacket to parallel his. He's fine with you picking out the accessories for him though.

• You make him do the heart ritual even with no employees around to force you to

• Which ends up getting pus and blood in the bear. . . Gross!

• Stuff his bear full of scentiments. No, the scent doesn't matter just- just put them all in. Yeah, it's just to rival the smell of rotting flesh.

• Wayne gives it a very specific name, one you get the feeling comes from someone he knew long ago...

• Since the employees left, please just. Leave some money on the counter. It's okay if you don't pay for the 15 scentiments stuffed inside Wayne's bear. Yeah, no, it's really fine, trust me.

• Wayne will cherish this bear forever, and is extremely careful with it, even though it inevitably gets dirty a few days later anyways.

[creedx13]

The Ventures Of Jason Creed

The crush

I never tuck my shirt in but I was nervous one of my claws rips the front left side oh well it matches my jeans at least. Hopefully, she likes the bad boy look I know I do. I just hope she isn’t scared of me. She is so pretty not just on the outside she knows 2 languages and she can make friends with anyone. Her name is Sofia Mantaga and she is super cool and smart and powerful. I would take a bullet for her. no a whole fucking firing squad. Honestly though, that's not saying much I’ve been shot before it wasn’t fun but my healing factor kept me alive so I could never actually die for her cause I don’t know if I can die.  But either way, I’ll give her my letter confessing my feelings, I threw in some flowers chicory cause It’s a pretty blue color and it’s easier to pick using my claws and some clover and some rose petals that fell in the garden. I placed my selection of flowers in with my note and stuck it closed with a sticker from an apple. I like recycling and I learned that apples meant love prosperity and weddings and all that sappy stuff in literature class. I carefully printed her name on the front signed my name in the bottom corner and scratched a heart or two into the reddish-pink envelope with a claw. I practice smiling in the mirror I want to look friendly, not sinister. When you've inherited your X-gene from Sabertooth himself sinister is easy, friendly takes concentration and control. I settle on a lips-closed half smile and head for my door. I hope I project confidence cause my heart is in my throat.  

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Costume theory meta

Ok so I promised I’d post my theories during hiatus and I didn’t want to keep you all waiting, so here is the first one on our first Monday without a new episode 😭 not as good as a new episode I know, but something to tide us over!

Disclaimer; I can’t be held accountable for the change to your viewing experience this will cause!😉😆 I’m putting the rest below a cut because its long and I don’t want to take over your dash and also - its kept you in suspense because I’ve given nothing away thus far 😈

Hey thanks for clicking read more! Okay so onto the theory - It has to do with characters wearing patterned clothing. 

Now you may have already read my Buck costume meta, where I spoke about how he’s been wearing a lot more patterned clothing in season 5 and that he’s nearly always wearing it around Taylor - if not, click the link above and have a read! We do see him wearing them around others, but only twice - once in the firehouse when he’s talking to Ravi - before he goes home - to Taylor (so technically it doesn’t count because the scene with her was the main scene for that costume - shown below) and the other time was in 5x10 at the big cookout Christmas party and we all know what happened there with Eddie! 

As I said in my Buck post, patterns tend to represent a characters internal confusion or turmoil - because something is/has happened or is not right. this is not specific to pattern, it could be the check/plaid, but it could equally be the one shown on Buck above, a busy spotty pattern, flower prints etc. 

Onto the specifics of this particular theory. during my many rewatches of 911 I’ve been able to spot a pattern (forgive the pun 😂) and it has to do with characters wearing plaid/check clothing (especially shirts/tops) as a form of foreshadowing of impending existing trouble - either in the form of an emergency, or something happening in their personal lives. 

If it’s an emergency dealing with multiple people (such as the earthquake or the tsunami)  - there is usually one character who is involved in the incident who is in a check shirt of some kind. - you can see in the screenshot below from season 3 episode 2, that Charlotte (the girl with the drone) has a check shirt tied around her waist.

I’ve been rewatching and keeping a log of every time this plays out and its pretty consistent - there are a handful of times where it doesn’t and most of those are in series 1&2 when we had different costume designers. 

in series 1 - Helen Huang was the costume designer

Series 2 - Bryan Kopp (ep11-18), Elizabeth Lacaster (ep2-4), Helen Huang (ep 6-10) and Paula Elins (ep5)

Series 3-5 - Alayna Bell-Price

It is much harder to pick up on things like this theory when you have multiple designers, I always thought the costuming in season 2 was a bit hit and miss in terms of consistency, and this is why. However Alayna Bell-Price has been there throughout most of it - working as a trailer costumer and assistant costume designer on series 1 and the first half (ep1-10) of series 2 before taking oer as costume designer in series 3 - when we see a real settling in style and my theory becomes much stronger in its execution.

So let us explore my theory a little bit deeper. When I say impending trouble, it doesn’t actually have to mean a call 911 type of trouble, it could also represent their internal trouble or struggles and the check pattern doesn’t have to be glaringly obvious either. 

A great example of this is actually in season 1 - when Buck is attending Devons funeral in episode 2 - the black shirt he has on has a check pattern (hopefully you can see it in the below screenshot, if not the scene is timestamped at 20:28. Buck is struggling to come to terms with the first death he’s experienced on the job. Helen Huang has shown this through the costume generally - its a mix of colours - a dark navy jacket, black shirt, dark grey tie - he’s looking for closure and  better understanding of why Devon wouldn’t take his hand. He doesn’t find it at the funeral, but he does find it later on.

Another addition to this theory is that it isn’t always the character in trouble who wears the pattern, but someone tied to them - such as a child - this is a clever ploy to make it less obvious that the plaid check is a signal. And occasionally its changed up so that it is less obvious, or because the character isn’t wearing a top. 

I should point out that its not true for every single incident, but there are a couple of other factors at play, one is another theory I have (which I’m still working on the post for, so you’ll have to wait on that one), I’m also still doing a bit of comparison work to see if the incidents where there is no obvious use of check patterns in the costuming are incidents that are less important to the overall story of the episode/season (so there may well be a follow up post to accompany this one at a later date when I have finished comparing!). The final factor is uniforms - if it involves characters at their place of work, in a job where a uniform is worn, then obviously the uniform will take precedence over the check/plaid and sometimes alternatives are used - there are a couple of different ways of doing this, which I’ve shown with pictures below.

Bobby talks to Chimney in the locker room about his special blood - there is a shirt hanging on the wall behind him (actually theres two different shirts, because theres a continuity error!!)

as the family get out of the car to enter the hotel, there is a check blanket on the middle seat next to where Kat is sat - she’s the one in danger from this family during the earthquake!

The stupid picture limit on posts means I can’t actually show you pictures of all of them - but what I’ve decided to do -  is make a post for each season with some select images where a character is wearing a check or plaid item of clothing so you can see for yourself in a bit more detail - the links are below and I’ll update this post once I’ve actually posted them - they’re lined up so sorry for spamming you feed!

I do have a full timestamped list of every scene in every episode, with breakdowns of check shirts (an a couple of other things I’ve spotted which I’ll be posting over hiatus) if anyone is interested. 

I also have a costume plot - a breakdown of whats being worn item by item, scene by scene - for each character and I’m happy to do a post explaining how it works in a wardrobe department if anyone is interested in learning a bit more about that? Mine is not as detailed as the actual costume plot would be, (because I don’t have the script or the benefit of a meeting with the production team to gain more insight into motivations and info that needs to be conveyed) but I’m happy to go into a bit more detail and create a fake one to show how it would all work, but only if you’re all interested in the inner workings of a wardrobe department for film and tv?!!

Ok links to each seasons check highlights below and I’ll add all of these (and this post) to the costume meta pinned post on my page 😎

Season 1

Sesaon 2

Sesaon 3

Season 4

Season 5

As always my inbox is open, so feel free to ask away about anything - this post, anything costume or colour theory or any random thought that pops into your head! I love hearing from you and I hope this has made you think a bit about subtle signaling and that you’ll all be joining me in playing spot the check pattern shirt in 5b 😂

[animesmutfest]

Satoru x Kakashi x reader

Firstly i just want to thank you all for your support, I genuinely had no idea this would blow up and was just posting the stories to post them but i am so grateful to have you guys as an audience. This smut was harder to make but with some inspiration from my husband and some manga, i think it'll turn out pretty spicy. So without anymore delays welcome to my 100k smut special. Hope you all enjoy but be nice lol it's the first threesome I've written about

You stared at the calendar longer than needed, you knew your eyes were correct. Today was a very special day for more than one reason and you could barely contain your happiness. Not only is it your birthday but it's the day that they come home. They both parted ways about two months ago for work and were able to get some time with you for a while starting today. You missed them so much it hurt, their touch, their voices, their kisses, just everything. You craved them more than anything in this world. Peeling your eyes from the calendar you head out to the store and picked up wine and ingredients for dinner. On your way home you stopped by a friends house to let them know you would not be available for a while and without pressing you for details she understood that you'd be tied up... hopefully literally. Once your home your phone rings and its Satoru. "Hey baby" you answer excited. "Hey princess~ i just wanted to let you know I'm waiting for Kakashi now and then we will be on our way. I'm thinking maybe 3 hours" he says in a very giddy voice. "Okay love i cant wait to see you two, get here safely" you reply. "yes maaam~" he says before hanging up.

You spent the time doing your hair, makeup and making dinner just how the likes it. They should be home within the hour and you have never been more ready to throw yourself on someone so badly. Meanwhile in the car with your loves. "You think she'd like these or these?" Kakashi asks Satoru holding up two bouquets of roses, one red and the other pink. "I'd say red considering the occasion" he reply's smirking. "Buuuuut lets just get both to be safe" he adds. "Good thinking" they go to check out and talk on the way to the house to catch up on lost time before the needed to talk about the facts. "You know this is he first time right?" Satoru asks staring out the car window into the sky through his shades. "What do you mean?" Kakashi asks. "She's never had both of us at once" he says smirking. A light blush appears on Kakashis face under his mask as he realizes he's right. They had always had alternate schedules so they each had their time with her but this is a first. To be home at the same time after being away for so long. How exciting. "We have to be extra careful with her tonight. And the next day, and maybe the next day~" Satoru says biting his lip a bit. "Understood, I'm sure we know how to make this experience as perfect as can be for our queen" Kakashi says smiling through his mask. They spent the rest of the car ride planning out everything as best as they could.

You hear them pull into the driveway and your heart begins to race as your legs moved on their own towards the door. You swing the door open before either of them could touch it and pulled them both into a deep hug. "We missed you too baby" they say to you. Satoru leans down and kisses you tenderly before Kaakshi follows right after caressing your soft skin. "Happy birthday love" Kakashi adds and they both extend their arms giving you the roses. "Their beautiful... thank you so much" you say smelling them while they fully enter the house and lock the door. "Oooh~ something smells good" Satoru coos as he walks to the dinning room. "Oh right! I made you guys dinner. Its been a while since I've been able to cook for either of you." You say as you set the flowers in a large vase before preparing to set the table. "I definitely miss your cooking... among other things" Kakashi says as he walks to the room with his bags. You blush and quickly turn around so they cant see your face. "Go get cleaned up, ill get the table set" you say. Both smiling they do as you requested. By the time you had pour their drinks they were walking towards the table. Both wearing lose sweats and t shirts as they sit down. You couldn't help but look down as they walked and you gulped at the sight. We all know about the prints and they were no exception. The guys give each other a looked in acknowledgment of your eyes wandering and shared a chuckle. You sat at the table  and talked with them as they ate their dinner. "Anything you wanna do after we're done?" kakashi asks. "I'm just going with the flow today, i really don't have anything planned in particular" you say taking a sip of your wine. When you look up you see both of them staring at you smiling. It was so terrifying yet you found yourself pressing your legs together. "Are you down for anything?" Satoru asks leaning back in his chair. You slowly nod looking down at your glass when you hear their chairs move at the same time. Your head shoots up to see them walking towards you. "W-what's going on?" You ask nervously. "Do you trust us?" Satoru asks. "With my life" you reply. Before you could ask more questions Kakashi throws you over his should and walks to "The Room" this rooms layout consisted of a large comfy couch, projector screen and a Alaskan king size bed built into the floor. He puts you down once inside and immediately grabs your neck pulling you into a heated kiss. Satoru walking over to the closet and grabbing the black box. While you were preoccupied he takes out your blindfold and covers your eyes. "You remember your safe word right baby?" Satoru asks as he rips open your shirt and bra. "Mmph y-yes" you reply only to receive a harsh slap on your ass from Kakashi. "Yes what?" He asks in a low voice. "Y-yes daddy" you correct yourself. "Good girl" he praises before turning you around to face Satoru and kissing your neck softly. Satoru begins to slowly take off your pants, tossing them aside once completely off. Your breathing become heavy as you feels their hands roam all over your body. Satoru runs his hands up along your waist until they reach your breasts. Without hesitation he takes one into his mouth, gently sucking on it as you run your finger through his soft hair.

You felt Satoru smirk against your skin as he nips on your nipple and pinch the other. You lean your head back on Kakashis shoulder while he leaves deep and dark marks all over your neck. "Are you going to be a good girl for us tonight?" Satoru asks after popping your nipple out his mouth. "Yes daddy" you say feeling his gorgeous eyes stare into you. He lightly chuckles before getting on his knees again and throwing your leg over his shoulder. You jump a bit as you feel his fingers rub your pussy slowly. "mm your soaking wet down here love~" he says before sliding a finger inside you. You let out a soft moan as your body tenses us and Kakashis hands move to your breasts squeezing them. "Oh yeah? What has you so worked up baby girl?" Kakashi says as he licks your ear. "It's because -fuck- because you both of you a-are touching me like this" you sigh with a light moan. "You mean like this?" Kakashi coos as his right hand wraps around your neck and he presses his dick against your back. "And like this?~" Satoru adds as he slips in another finger curling them inside you perfectly. You let a loud moan and your body trembled a bit. "P-please... I need more... please." Satoru slipping out his fingers and going to the bed laying down on it. Kakashi knew what to do, he guides you there as well before placing you in a 69 position on top of satoru on your hands and knees. He places himself in front of you before pulling down his sweats and pumping himself slowly right in front of your covered eyes. As satoru locks your hips with his arms he starts with soft flicks of tongue on your sensitive clit. Your hands grab the blanket as you begin to moan and your legs shake lightly. "Open your mouth sweetheart" you hear in front of you and without a second thought you comply. Sticking out your tongue letting saliva drip from the tip of it. Kakashi takes his time as he circles his tip on the bed of your tongue before sliding it deep inside your throat. Letting out a deep grunt once he bottoms out feeling your throat squeezing him just right. As he pulls himself back he grabs a handful of your hair for better support. Satoru dug his hands into your hips as he sucks on your clit, swirling his tongue just right. You moan into Kakashis dick as he fucks your face slowly but deep sending vibrations from him. "Good fucking girl... sss fuck- stick out your tongue more. Fuck yes just like that." He groans going harder with each thrust. Satoru made sure to make an absolutely mess of you as you grind softly on his face.

Satoru smirks against your skin as he quickens his pace knowing you were so close to cumming. Kakashi pulls from your throat as you gasp for air and pant from the tightening coil inside you. "Fuck I'm gunna cum~ feels so good daddy!" You whine as you grip kakashis shirt with one hand. Reaching down he plays with your curls as he watches you fall apart on satorus tongue. "Ahhuh god! Fuck! I-I'm mmmph! C-cu-" you couldn't get the rest out as you gush on his mouth twitching and trying to pull yourself from him as he cleans his plate. Once he's had his fill he releases his grip on you and licks his lips. "Delicious as always gorgeous" he says kissing your thighs. You can't see them but you hear them taking off their clothes and moving around the bed. You then feel one of them snatch your hands and put them behind your back while the other ties your hands together. You smirk a bit as you were getting more excited by the second. Feeling the bed dip down you feel satorus hands help you on top of him. And then you feel Kakashi right behind you holding your bound arms. You feel something wet and cold rubbing against your ass before it slowly sunk into you. You whimper at the unfamiliar feeling but just as you were getting use to the feeling of being teased from behind you feel a strong vibration against your clit. Hanging your head down you felt the vibrator going in circles on your pussy and what you come to realize a thick plug being pumped in and out of your ass. "Feeling good princess?" Kakashi asks with a chuckle as he admires your voice as it echos in the room. You were drunk on the pleasure and they haven't enough done much just yet. You called for them over and over again and before you knew it you were cumming again. "That's it baby. We just wanna make you feel good" satoru says as he slow down the circles before turning off the vibrator and slowly sinking you down on his thick dick. You cry out from the stretch but immediately felt so fucking full. Full of him and the pleasure he brought to you. As he bucks his hips into your clenching pussy Kakashi removes the plug and rubs his dick on your ass. "We need you to cum again princess. Can you do that for us?" Kakashi asks as he grips your arms and bites on your shoulder a bit. Satoru slowed his thrusting to let you answer but all you did was nod frantically. He looks down at satoru and with a smirk he begins circling the vibrator over your clit again with satoru still giving you deep and slow thrusts. "Close already? That was fast~" he mocks you as you clench around him. Kakashi pulls your body back and turns your head to him as he kisses you again. Your moans muffled with his mouth but your body jerks forward as you cum again. Tears stream down your face,  you couldn't speak just react. satoru stop thrusting and pulls you into a heated kiss sliding his tongue in your mouth and making sure you knew who was in charge right now. Your breathing was still all over the place but you didn't have time to get it together when you felt Kakashis dick press into your tight ass. Your nails dig into your palms as he pushes himself half way in. Satoru grunting from the pressure and you wilding moaning between them. Both of them rubbing your body as they comfort you through the stretch. "Your taking us so well baby. Just a little more and I promise it'll feel good" Kakashi says. "I-I already f-feel good..~ haaa fuck" you cry out. Not men blushing hard before Kakashi slams the rest inside you cause you to scream out. "I'm sorry love but I can't hold back anymore" he moans as he slowly begins fucking your ass. Squelching sounds and moans filling the room you all slowly lose your minds with one another. Satoru no longer being able to sit still begins thrusting upward into you again much harder than before. One one entered you the other would pull back a bit. "Ahaaah shit!! Fuck fuck! T-too much!" You breathlessly moan. Kakashi removes your blindfold and hands. You kindly reach behind you pushing him back a bit as he speeds up while your other hand rests on Satorus chest.

So many hands digging into your flesh that you don't know who is grabbing where anymore. And in a split second you blink and real size they have stood up sandwiching you between them with their arms holding you perfectly still. You wrap one of your arms around Satorus neck and then reaching over your shoulder you grab Kakashis. Their groan and labored breathing pushing you closer to your release yet again. You were begging them to make a mess of your insides, to break you or breed you. Whatever came first you wanted it and you wanted it so badly. "Mph gunna cum gunna cum again! Ugh right there! Please don't stop!~" their faces closed in on you as they fucked you in sync with one another. "Come on then birthday girl" one of them coos. "Make as much of a mess as you want" the other chimes in. Your grip on them tightens on both of them. Soon there you were again, but this time you couldn't hold back. Your body refused to hide the fact that you were receiving the ultimate amount of pleasure and as you yell into the air and come undone you find yourself squirting and violently shaking. "God your so sexy" Satoru says as he slams into you as hard as he can cumming deep within you, your nails scratching him harshly and Kakashi following right behind him. "Fuck I'm cumming baby!" He grunts as he too fills you up a strained whimper escapes you. Your eyes glazed with lust as you stare up at the ceiling feeling their cum drip from your aching holes. Best birthday ever.

[expectingtofly]

Sign Here

AU-Modern Setting, Meet-Cute, Dean is a UPS Driver, Cas and Dean are idiots, Gabe is trying to help

4k (oops this fic got long)

also posted on ao3

written for Day 2 of @starrynightdeancas 2k Followers Celebration <3 <3

Castiel knelt on the grass to pull up some stubborn weeds in the garden lining the front of his newly-bought house. The previous inhabitants had left behind a tangled mess of rose bushes and weeds, and after a week of unpacking boxes, he was happy to finally have time to spend outside. One of the perks of moving from an apartment to a small bungalow—finally space for a garden. Although, he was sure the inside of his house would soon become just as packed with plants as his apartment had been.

Engrossed as he was in weeding and planning what flowers he would plant to expand the garden, he didn’t hear someone approach until a shadow fell over the dirt. 

Startling, he looked up to see a man standing on the walkway next to him. “What—oh.” By the man’s clothes—brown collared shirt and shorts—and the package he was holding, Castiel realized he was a UPS delivery driver. “Hello.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” the driver said, fighting back a smile.

Castiel stood, brushing dirt off his hands. “It’s alright.” 

The man held out a package. “I was gonna deliver this to your front door, unless you want to take it now.”

“Yes, thank you.” Taking it, Castiel looked down at the label, trying to remember what he had ordered. Something for his kitchen, probably.

“Did you just move in?” the UPS driver asked. His eyes were very green, a spattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. Freckles everywhere, Castiel realized, seeing the way they lightly spotted his bare arms. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

Realizing he was staring, Castiel reddened, glanced down at the package in his hands. “Uh, yes, I did. Last week.”

“Welcome to Bloomfield, then.” He nodded at the rose bushes. “Nice garden you got here.”

“You don’t have to lie, it’s a mess.” The driver laughed and Castiel smiled a little. “It’s not much now. Hopefully I’ll be able to fix it up soon.”

“I’ll keep an eye out, see how things develop.” The man took a step back and gestured to the UPS truck on the street. “I’ve got other packages to deliver. Nice meeting you.”

“You too,” Castiel said, watching him leave. Kneeling down to continue yanking out the prickly weeds, he smiled. It was nice to meet someone friendly; he hadn’t gotten to meet many people yet with the chaos of moving in. Of course, he thought, glancing back at the UPS truck as it rumbled down the street, it didn’t hurt that the driver was extremely attractive as well. 

***

The next week, Castiel was hanging up art prints in his living room when he heard the doorbell ring. Assuming it was for a package he’d ordered, he took his time getting to the door, straightening the print on the wall before weaving through the cardboard boxes he still hadn’t unpacked. 

When he opened the front door, however, he was surprised to see the green-eyed UPS driver standing on his porch holding the package.

The man’s face brightened. “Hi. Got a delivery for you.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said, opening the door wider. “I didn’t realize you were waiting. I thought you delivery drivers just dropped off the package and disappeared.”

The UPS driver laughed. Such a nice laugh, Castiel thought. “Right, yeah, that’s what we normally do. But, uh, we have a new policy. Have to get a signature for packages.” He handed over a clipboard and pen, pointing to the line at the bottom of the page. "Just sign here."

“Oh. Alright.” Castiel took the clipboard and signed his name. When he handed it back, he saw the man glance at the signature. “Castiel,” he supplied.

“Cool name. I’m Dean.” 

“Nice to meet you, Dean.” Having been occupied all week with moving in and subsequently starved for conversation, he added, “You’re one of the first people I’ve met so far. The other being a cashier at that grocery store down the street.”

“Still getting settled in?”

“Yes. It’s taking much longer than I anticipated. I hate unpacking. It never seems to end.”

“Yeah, moving’s a bitch. You liking the place so far, though?”

Castiel nodded. “I do. Much improved from the apartment where I was living before.”

“God, I bet. I share an apartment with my brother—don’t get me wrong, I like living with him, but our landlord’s an asshole.” He gestured to the right. “Garden’s looking great.”

“Thank you. I just bought petunias, but I haven’t had a chance to plant them.” He pointed at the small brown box Dean was still holding. “That should be new gardening gloves in there.”

“Oh, right, your package.” Dean’s face looked a little red as he handed the box over. “Um, well, I should be on my way. See ya.” He stepped off the porch with a wave and Castiel waved back before going inside. 

As he unpacked his belongings, he realized filling a house was harder than he’d thought. There were so many household items he was missing. Perhaps a trip to the store would be faster, but ordering online was easier—or so he told himself as he opened his laptop.  

I’m only trying to save myself time, he reasoned, though inwardly he might have been hoping Dean would deliver the package. 

Though he wouldn’t admit it to himself, he found himself growing more impatient over the next few days. Then, one afternoon as he organized his silverware drawer, he heard the doorbell ring. He practically ran to the front door, then paused and steadied himself before opening it, waiting a few seconds so it wouldn’t seem like he’d rushed over.  

It might not even be Dean, he chastised himself as he unlocked the door. 

Dean smiled at him when he swung the door wide.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said, trying to sound casual and hide his smile.

“Hi.” He looked to be about Castiel’s age. What were the chances that someone this attractive was single? “Got another package. A heavy one this time.” 

Pushing away those thoughts, Castiel took it from him and placed it inside on the floor. “Thank you. Don’t I have to sign something?”

“Uh, shit, yeah.” Dean handed over the clipboard and pen, and as Castiel signed, he nodded at the package. “Something else for the garden?”

Castiel shook his head, handing back the clipboard. “A mixer. I thought maybe I could try my hand at baking. My mom sent me a few of her recipes.”

Dean’s eyes brightened. “You ever want inspiration, there’s a diner, other side of town, a few blocks from where I live, that makes the best pie. Makes them fresh every morning.”

“I’ll have to go sometime.” He stopped short of saying that maybe he’d see Dean there, not wanting to sound too excited at the prospect.

Maybe I should order more things for the kitchen, he thought, shutting the door after saying goodbye to Dean. Or a new bath mat, and curtains, maybe. The boxes he had yet to unpack scolded him by their presence, but he ignored them. If receiving new items meant talking to a friendly face, who could blame him? 

***

“You sure get a lot of packages,” Dean remarked the next week when Castiel opened the door. 

Castiel reddened. “Turns out it’s hard to fill a whole house.” 

“I’m not complaining, you’re the one giving me a job to do.” Dean handed over the package. “What’s it this week?”

“A watering can.”

“You really like to garden, don’t you?” Dean gestured to the flowers and plants lining the front of the house. “I mean, you’ve added a lot since moving in.”

“Yes, well, I find it’s a wonderful way to wind down after work.”

Dean nodded. “I get that. Any spare time I have, I work on my car.”

Castiel glanced at the UPS truck, because he hadn’t really considered Dean driving anything else. His heart beat a little faster at the thought of running into Dean somewhere else, at the diner, at the grocery store. He wondered how Dean dressed when he wasn’t in his uniform, what else he did in his free time.

Dean followed his gaze to the street and gestured to the UPS truck. “This thing, it’s crap. No AC, no radio. What do you drive?” He glanced at Castiel’s driveway. “That a Lincoln Continental? 78? 77?”

Castiel caught the derisive tone in his voice. “78. And I like it,” he added defensively.

Dean smiled, raising his hands. “Eye of the beholder, I guess. You ever need work done on it, let me know, I can help.” His eyes widened a little at his own words. “I mean, you don’t need to, I just meant, if you want. I’m good at that stuff.”

“Thank you, Dean. I appreciate the offer.” Inwardly, he cursed his car for being so reliable. Maybe the engine light would turn on and he could take him up on his offer. Or maybe Dean was only being friendly and didn’t really mean it. 

When Dean headed back to his truck and Castiel shut the door, he realized Dean hadn’t asked him to sign anything. Maybe he’d only forgotten. 

***

“Gotten acquainted with the locals?” Gabriel asked a few nights later when he called to see how Castiel was settling in.

“I talked with one of my neighbors yesterday. Arla. She’s eighty-two and owns three cats.” Leaning against the kitchen counter, Castiel glanced at the mixer. “And, uh, I did meet someone else. Someone my age, not a neighbor. Dean.”

“Met someone? Like went on a date with—”

“No, he works for the UPS, he’s been delivering my packages.” He was interrupted by Gabriel laughing. “What’s so funny?”

“So instead of going out and meeting real people, you’re making friends with the delivery guy.”

“Dean is real,” Castiel protested. “He’s very kind and friendly. And helpful. He’s told me about places to check out in town and complimented my garden—”

“Damn, Cas, sounds like you really like this guy.”

“No, he’s just a nice person,” Castiel insisted. By Gabriel’s laughter, he knew he wasn’t being believable. “Alright, fine. I enjoy talking to him.” He wasn’t going to tell Gabriel that seeing Dean was becoming his favorite part of the week.

“He single?”

“Um. Yes.” He may or may not have asked Arla if she knew Dean, and may or may not have learned that she couldn’t believe “a charming young man like him is still single.” Oh, and that if she were a younger woman, she would be ordering packages left and right to flirt with him when he delivered. Castiel did not appreciate that last part, even if Arla had no idea how close to the truth she’d struck. I’m not flirting, he argued inwardly.

“Well, are you going to make a move or not?” When Castiel didn’t respond right away, Gabriel added, “Right, I forgot who I’m talking to.”

“I might,” Castiel protested. “But we only just met. And I don’t even know if he likes me. He’s only doing his job.”

“May as well ask him out, see what he says.” 

Castiel sighed. “I don’t want to rush into anything. I only just moved here.”

“Well, you snooze, you lose, Cas. Don’t miss out on something just because you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared!”

I’m not scared, he repeated to himself when he said goodbye and hung up the phone. He was being reasonable. But maybe Gabriel was right. Dean had to be somewhat interested—delivery guys didn’t just stick around to talk after delivering a package. Maybe he’d test the waters, try to see if Dean was truly interested or just being friendly.

***

A few days later, he was watering his petunias when Dean got out of his truck with another package.

“Hey, Cas!” he called. 

“Hello, Dean.” Setting down his water can, he wiped his hands on his jeans. “Thank you,” he said, taking the narrow box from Dean. Before he lost his courage, he spoke up, “I, um, made a pie this morning.” Whether he’d made it specifically to offer to Dean was something he’d never admit to anyone, much less himself. “I was wondering if you wanted a slice? You can tell me if it’s good or not.”

Dean broke into a grin. “Shit, Cas, really? Yeah, thanks.”

“Wait here, I’ll grab it.”

When he returned to the doorway with a paper plate covered in foil, he caught Dean looking inside his house. 

“It’s still a mess in here,” Castiel said, handing the plate over. “I’ve been kinda busy with work.”

“No, yeah, totally, no judgement.” He peeled back the foil and inhaled. “Fuck, I’m starving. This looks amazing.” Picking up the slice, he took a bite. “Mmm,” he said, rolling his eyes back. 

“Good?” Castiel asked, amused. 

“So good,” Dean said, his voice muffled. He swallowed. “You’re a natural.” 

“Thank you. I have more, if you’d like it.”

“Don’t tempt me. Yes.” 

Grinning, Castiel went back inside and packaged up two more slices, brought them to Dean.

“You’re an angel,” Dean said. “Seriously.” He juggled the plates in his hands. “So, where do you work?”

Castiel leaned on the doorway. “I work here. I’m an editor. I do freelance work.”

“Dude, that’s cool. Nice that you get to work from home.” Looking down at his watch, he swore quietly. “Sorry, I need to keep moving. I’ve got a lot of deliveries today.” 

“Oh,” Castiel said, disappointed, straightening. “Alright. Sorry for keeping you so long.”

“No problem, this was a nice break.” He stepped off the walkway. “Thanks for the pie.”

“You’re welcome.” Ask him for his number. Ask him if he would like to go out. But he kept quiet and watched Dean cross the yard back to his truck. 

***

That night, Castiel ordered a set of bookends shaped like trees. He checked his email the next few days, tracking the package. On the day it was to be delivered, he had to run errands and got stuck in traffic. When he pulled into his driveway, he saw a package sitting on the front porch. Shit. He’d missed Dean. 

Grabbing his bag of groceries, he walked over and picked up the package with his free hand. Then he noticed a note taped to the top. 

Sorry I missed you, it read. The pie was incredible.

Castiel smiled. 

***

Sunlight streamed through his living room windows as Castiel organized his books on his bookshelves. He was just pushing his new bookends into place when the doorbell rang. Frowning, he went to the front door and looked out through the window. Dean?

“Hello, Dean,” he said, opening the door. “I wasn’t expecting a package today.” 

“Oh, really?” Dean looked like he was fighting back a smile as he turned around the cardboard box in his hands. Bold black letters were written across the front: SAY HI TO DEAN FOR ME.

Castiel’s eyes widened and he snatched the box out of Dean’s hands. “What? I don’t know how—” He scanned the box for the label. Gabriel, he realized. “It’s my brother,” he explained. “I was telling him about you, he must’ve sent me this to embarrass me, I’m so sorry.”

Dean’s smile won out. “No, it’s fine, that’s kinda hilarious.” He shifted his stance, the wooden porch boards creaking. “You, uh, you told him about me?”

Castiel’s head snapped up from glaring at Gabe’s name on the return label. “Um, yes,” he faltered. “Well, I was just telling him that I met someone, and it’s been nice to, uh, uh, have a friend.” 

Friend? He hardly knew Dean, for fuck’s sake. For all he knew, he was just a random person Dean spoke to occasionally on his route, no more important than Arla or any of the other people he delivered to.

But Dean smiled. “Yeah, uh, me too. I mean, I like meeting people on my route, just makes the day a lot better when I get to stop and talk.” He reddened a little and rubbed the back of his neck, glancing down at his boots.

“I hope I don’t keep you from your other deliveries,” Castiel said.

Dean waved his hand. “Nah, it’s fine. I get the other ones done fast so I can spend more time here.” He cut himself off and reddened even further, as if realizing what he was admitting. 

So, Dean was deliberately trying to see him, talk to him. Castiel felt his face heat up as well. “I’m sure delivering packages all day can be very boring,” he offered. 

Dean nodded quickly. “Yeah, ya know, it’s nice to have someone to talk to. Besides, I’m just trying to make sure this neighborhood’s newest resident is doing okay.” He grinned. “Think of me as the welcome committee.”

“Well, I appreciate it. Really.”

Dean nodded again, and they stood there awkwardly for a few long moments. Castiel glanced back down at the box, Gabe’s words ringing in his head. Ask him out, see what he says.

“I’ll get on my way,” Dean said, stepping back. He smiled a little. “Tell your brother I said hi.”

“I will.” Maybe he should just blurt it out. Dean had said he enjoyed stopping by here. But maybe he only meant that in a friendly way. Castiel had called him a friend, after all. He chickened out. “Have a good rest of your day.”

“You too.” Dean walked away and Castiel glared down at the box. 

“Not helpful,” he told it.

***

“Gabe, I hate you.”

“What? I was just trying to spark conversation between you two—”

“I hate you. I can hold a conversation well enough myself, thank you very much. You only made things awkward.” He paused before adding, “Dean says hi, by the way.”

Gabriel cheered and Castiel pulled his phone away from his ear. “So it worked? You asked him out?”

“Um...” Castiel pulled at a rip on his gardening jeans. “No.”

“Cassie!” Gabriel whined. “I did all that work for nothing? What’s the holdup? Ask him out.”

Castiel groaned. “I will. Eventually. But, I mean, can he even say yes? He’s on the job—”

“Cas, he’s already taking time out of his workday to talk to you. Pretty sure he’ll say yes, even if he’s working. Stop making excuses.”

“Fine. I’ll ask him.” He only said it to get Gabriel off his back, but his palms grew sweaty even thinking about it. 

“You better. Keep me updated.”

“Only if you never pull a prank like that again.”

“I can’t promise anything.” 

***

Seated at his desk, Castiel frowned at an awkwardly worded sentence that refused to form itself into any coherency. Was the past tense of lie lay or laid? Why couldn’t he ever remember? 

The doorbell ringing drew his attention and, grateful for the break, he saved the document he was editing and got up. Going to the front door, he wondered if he had any left-over pie to give Dean and drag out their time together in the doorway.

Opening the door, he began to say hello, then paused. A UPS delivery man was walking away to his truck, a package at Castiel’s feet on his front porch. 

“Wait!” Castiel called, stepping outside. The man turned—not Dean. Someone he’d never seen before. “Who the hell are you?”

The man looked startled. “I, uh, I’m a delivery—”

“No, sorry.” Castiel flushed. “Where’s Dean?”

“Dean?” The man frowned. “I don’t know who that is. We all got new routes a few days ago. He must be on another route now.”

Castiel’s heart sank. “Oh.” Another route? He looked down at the package. “Don’t I have to sign something?”

“No, you’re all good. We don’t require signatures.” The man continued to his truck and Castiel picked up the package. A lattice pastry roller to make more intricate pie crusts. He’d thought Dean might appreciate the effort.

Shutting the door, he stood in the foyer for a moment. So, Dean was gone. Why hadn’t he ever asked for Dean’s number? He’d had plenty of opportunities.

It’s a small town, he reasoned. I’ll see him again, I have to. He knew Dean lived on the other side of town, maybe if he drove around there, kept an eye out—

Alright, stop, he told himself. He was starting to sound crazy. He dropped the package off on the kitchen table. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.

***

The next day, Castiel was seated at his desk, sending an email to a client, when the doorbell rang. 

His pulse sped up, and instinctively he rose from his chair. Then he remembered that Dean didn’t deliver to his house anymore. Sighing, he sat back down. 

He’d been trying not to think of it, but every other item in his house—the mixer, the bookends, the pastry roller—only reminded him of Dean and brought down his mood. 

Why didn’t I take Gabe’s advice? he bemoaned inwardly. That was a thought he never thought he’d have, but it looked like Gabe had been right. He’d lost his chance.  

Staring at his computer screen, he tried to focus on his work, but the distraction had ruined his focus. At least I’ll save money, he reasoned ruefully, now that he had no excuse for making random purchases. 

The doorbell rang again and he lifted his head, frowning. Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember ordering anything. Maybe it was Arla, coming over to say hello.  

Rising, he went to the front door and tried to remember the name of that diner Dean had told him about. Maybe he’d stake out there on a weekend, see if Dean showed up. Or was that creepy?

Definitely creepy, he decided with a sigh, opening the door. Then he froze.

“Dean?”

Standing on his front porch—this time in jeans and a black t-shirt, holding a potted fern—was Dean. He smiled hesitantly, almost nervously. “Hi, Cas.” 

“What are you doing here?” Castiel looked at the street, but of course the familiar UPS truck wasn’t there. In its place was a sleek, black car. 

“My route changed and I, uh, never got to say bye. So I thought I’d just come over. Sorry if that’s weird—”

“No, I’m happy to see you. Just surprised. I thought I’d never…”

Dean grinned. “Scared you’d lost me forever?”

Castiel smiled. “Yeah, a bit,” he admitted. 

“I, um, I brought you this.” He held out the plant, laughed nervously. “I felt weird coming over without anything to deliver.”

“Thank you. It’s lovely.” Taking the plant, he stroked the leaves. “I know exactly where to put it.” His heart pounded as he realized now was his chance. He had to take it.

He started to ask for Dean’s number, but Dean started talking too, and they both stopped, laughing. “You first,” Castiel said. 

“Um, well.” Dean shoved his hands into his pockets. “I was thinking, would you maybe want to hang out somewhere other than your doorway? I can show you around town.” He gestured to his car. “Take you for a spin in Baby.”

Castiel couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. “I would love that.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I’ve been… I’ve been meaning to ask you out, or ask for your number. I just never worked up the courage.”

Dean grinned. “Am I really that intimidating?”

Castiel laughed. “No. Not at all. You’re quite the opposite.” He gestured inside. “Would you, uh, would you like to come inside?”

“Yeah, totally.” 

Castiel started to open the door wider, then paused. “I have a question. You never did need my signature, did you? For the packages?”

Dean frowned, then realization seemed to hit him and his face reddened. “Yeah, uh. No. But I figured it was a surefire way to get your name and talk to you.”

“Is that a trick you use often?”

“Nope, you were the first.” He grinned, eyes suddenly teasing. "Did you really need everything you were ordering, or were all the packages just an excuse to see me?"

Now was Castiel's time to blush. "I did need what I ordered!" he protested. "Well, some things. But mainly... I just wanted to talk to you."

“Well, it worked.”

“Yes.” He stepped back for Dean to come inside his home and smiled at him. “And I’m very glad it did."

Tag List:

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[starshine583]

New Girl on the Block (4)

(Y’all ready to read the next update??? Enjoy part four of this fic and if you’re interested, feel free to check out the mini series connected to this called the Journal Entries. It’s just little journal snippets from the two dorks that I decided to write for fun :D)

Ch.1 / Ch.3 / Ch.5

Chapter 4: Get to Know You

Marinette slipped on her white, non-flour-covered leather jacket and pushed her pigtails back so they wouldn’t be tucked into her outfit. She then smoothed out her pink dress with a smile, admiring the black flowers that she’d stitched along the bottom. This dress had been one of her stress-relieving projects, but it turned out quite well, in her opinion.

Once Papa had finished teaching her friends how to fold the dough, he put their croissants into the fridge to chill them and instructed everyone to go upstairs and wash up. Marinette dutifully took them up to her room where her personal bathroom was and taught them how to use the shower, but when she tried to lead one of them to her parent’s bathroom as well, they insisted that she take a shower there herself. 

“What kind of gentlemen would we be if we forced the ladies to wait on us?” Claude had said light-heartedly, though she could tell he meant it. Allegra’s smirk as she walked in the bathroom to take a shower first was proof of that. 

The notion had warmed Marinette’s heart, coaxing a giggle from her each time she thought about it. It might be hard to see sometimes, but Claude, Allan, and Felix truly were a considerate and chivalrous group of boys. 

Now, She’s finished her shower in her parent’s bathroom and gone back up to her bedroom, where Allegra, Claude, and Allan had been patiently waiting. Allegra was nice and clean again, wearing the long, purple shirt and black leggings that Marinette had given her, and Claude appeared to have just exited the shower, his damp hair sticking to his face and dripping across his borrowed, black and blue “O.K” shirt. Allan was still covered in flour.

Allegra smiled at Marinette from her spot on the chaise as she re-braided her long, golden blonde hair. “Thanks for the extra clothes, Mari! These are amazing.”

“Yeah!” Claude agreed enthusiastically, holding out his with a grin. “This shirt is awesome!”

Marinette glanced down to hide her blush. “I-It’s the least I could do.”

“We still appreciate it.” Allan replied.

“Oh!” Marinette said, suddenly thinking about the fact that Allan was still covered in flour. “Allan, do you want to use Maman’s shower? You don’t have to stand around waiting for Felix.”

That who she assumed was occupying the shower, anyway. The water was still running, and everyone but Felix was present. 

Allan waved a hand. “Nah, it’s fine. I’ll be getting a shower soon if Felix would hurry up.”

Marinette chuckled at Allan’s obvious call to Felix, even more so when Felix shouted back from the bathroom, “You’re the one that let me go first!”

“I didn’t know you would take a day and a half!” 

“That’s still your fault then, isn’t it?” Felix shot back.

Allan scoffed and crossed his arms, causing Marinette to offer her parent’s shower again out of guilt. She had been the one to throw flour on him, after all.

“Are you sure you don’t want to-”

The bathroom door swung open, effectively cutting Marinette off, and Felix stepped out with one hand on his hip and the other hand on the towel that was draped across his head. He shot Allan a glare, practically growling the words, “There. I’m out. Are you happy?”

“Delighted.” Allan responded sarcastically.

Marinette might have been concerned about the growing conflict had she not been focused on Felix’s outfit. Or rather, how well it suited him. The black, three-quarter-sleeved shirt that she’d given him, along with the plaid green, button-up shirt she’d provided to go underneath, clung to his waist, revealing his surprisingly slender figure. The dark grey jeans he wore in place of his dress pants didn’t fit the outfit exactly, but they worked well enough, and Marinette eagerly started taking mental notes for future adjustments.

Allan grabbed his clothes and walked into the bathroom, while Felix glared daggers at him until the bathroom door closed. 

“Woah~” Allegra crowed, easily breaking the tension. “You should wear casual outfits more often, Felix. They really suit you.”

Claude smirked. “No kidding. I swear you’ve worn the same suit for the whole two years we’ve known.”

Felix turned his glare to Claude with a scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve worn plenty of suits, each one made differently.”

Allegra snorted. “That wasn’t.. That was not the point, Felix.”

Felix narrowed his eyes, the barest hint of confusion finding its way to his features, and Marinette took that opportunity to speak up.

“How’s the outfit? Does it fit alright?” She asked. Hopefully she can find the original measurements for the outfit if it does fit fine, because Felix was most likely going to become a regular customer. Maybe he wouldn’t hire her for actual commissions, but she might end up making something for him on impulse. (as you do)

Felix caught her eye, his glare slowly fading as he registered her question.

“The fabric is extremely comfortable, and the clothes fit perfectly.” He said after a moment. “You said you made these?”

She nodded. “With my sewing machine. I was thinking of putting a green paw print on the shirt too, but I haven’t gotten around to it.”

Felix hummed, idly pulling his towel from on top of his head to around his shoulders. “I see. Thank you for lending them to me.”

Marinette blinked, suddenly finding herself captivated by the way his hair fell across his face. Still being damp, various strands stuck to his forehead and cheeks, and he reached up to brush them away. This brought her attention to his face, which, for some reason, she hadn’t quite noticed before. The defined jawline, the subtle-yet-there cheek bones, the pointed nose- all of his features were sharp. Even his eyes held a silver tint to them that reminded her of steel. 

These observations dragged her to one, rather important revelation: Felix Culpa was actually a fairly handsome person.

“Marinette?” Felix said, drawing her from her thoughts. “Are you alright?”

A rush of heat swarmed her cheeks, and Marinette straightened. “W-what? I mean yes! Yeah, I’m totally fine, I.. yes.”

“Hey, speaking of clothes!” Claude piped up, graciously saving Marinette from her own awkwardness. “How’s my prince costume going?”

Marinette twirled around in her rolling chair and grabbed for her sketching notebook. A distraction was definitely something she needed right now.

“I’ve got a few different ideas, but you need to come tell which one you like best.” She explained as she flipped open the notebook.

Claude hopped up from the stray chest he’d been sitting on and practically bounced over to her seat. She let him scan each page, smiling when he started humming “Ooh’s” and “Aah’s”.

“I can only pick one?! But they’re all so good!” Claude remarked, almost exasperated.

Marinette chuckled. “Well.. I guess I can make all of them for you, but you at least need to choose which one I start on.”

Claude gasped. “You mean you’re going to make all of these for me?”

“It’s going to take a month or so to get them all done.” She warned. “But-”

Claude scooped her into a bone-crushing hug, briefly reminding her of her father. “Thank you, Mari! Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best!”

Marinette laughed and gave him a light pat on the arm. “You’re welcome.”

Her smile widened as Claude eagerly grabbed the notebook and ran back to his designated chest to look through the drawing again. It was nice to see someone who was also enthusiastic about fashion. She’d gotten tired of talking to people who simply didn’t understand the hype of creating unique styles of clothing. 

“You know he’s never going to leave you alone now, right?” Felix commented next to her.

Marinette offered him a glance as she said, “I think I can live with that.”

Felix shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

She smiled at that. Felix may be striking, but that didn’t have to change anything. Lots of people were striking. And lots of people remained friends despite that.

“Oh,” Felix muttered, seeming to remember something, “Where do you want me to put my clothes? They’re still in the bathroom because of Allan, but..”

“Uhm.. I think Maman said she was going to wash them.” Marinette answered. “She wanted to try to get them clean before supper for all of you.”

“Ah, supper.” Claude cut in, heaving a jokingly wistful sigh. “I can’t wait for that. If your mom’s croissants can taste that heavenly, then her full meals must be amazing.”

He sunk against the chest for emphasis, not realizing that there was a gap between the chest and the wall. The sudden weight threw the chest off balance, and it tipped forward, causing Claude to get jerked backwards. He flailed his arms briefly and yelped before crashing to the floor. The front of the chest hit the ground as well, and the impact popped it open, scattering various objects across the floor.

“Oh, Claude!”

“Are you okay?” 

The girls rushed to his side to help him up, but Felix shot him a flat look.

“First the kitchen and now her bedroom.” He said curtly. “Should we tear up the living room next? Or perhaps the dining room has more fragile items?”

Allegra rolled her eyes. “Felix, can you at least try to be sympathetic.”

“I am being sympathetic. Marinette doesn’t have the money to replace things at the drop of a hat like we do. It’s rude to behave so recklessly in her home.”

Marinette glanced up at Felix, not sure whether to find his words sweet or offensive. “Trust me, it’s fine. This chest is old anyway.”

Felix’s frown told her that he didn’t agree on the matter, but before he could argue further, the bathroom door swung open again.

“What happened?” Allan asked, his hair still dripping wet. “I heard the crash. Is anyone hurt?”

“Only my pride.” Claude groaned in response. He was sitting up now and rubbing his head as Allegra switched between scolding and coddling.

Allan sighed with relief. “Oh, good. You can’t hurt something that’s not there.”

“Hey!”

Marinette giggled at the comment. “Allan, how is your outfit? Do I need to make any adjustments?”

Allan glanced down at his clothes. She’d given him a maroon shirt with a blue heartbeat line in the center, a black and blue shirt to go underneath, and a pair of black jeans. He didn’t appear to be wearing the second shirt, though.

“Oh, they fit great.” He said, twisted his torso a bit to get a better feel for the new clothes. “I didn’t have time to put on the second shirt, though. I heard the crash and panicked.”

Marinette offered him a smile. “That’s fine. I can just put it back in the closet.”

Allan nodded and looked down at the mess. “So Claude spilled this chest?”

“Yeah, he was being an idiot.” Allegra remarked as she picked up one of the trinkets. “You know. Nothing new.”

“Wow. can you guys lay off for two seconds?” Claude huffed. He reached forward to pick up one of the objects as well, curiosity overtaking his annoyance. “What is all of this stuff, anyway?”

Marinette glanced at the miscellaneous objects to check- she had several trunks that acted as ‘junk drawers’ -and immediately cringed when she recognized a black hat with rainbow colors stitched along the bottom.

“Oh..” It was Adrien’s gift chest. She’d almost forgotten that she had it. “They’re, um.. They’re just crafts, really.”

“Just crafts?” Claude repeated, holding up a crocheted Ladybug doll. “These are awesome!”

Marinette watched them for a moment. “...do you want them?”

The group looked up in shock, and Marinette quickly added, “Y-You don’t have to take them! I’ve just.. Uh.. they’re like junk? I mean, not junk, but this is my junk chest.. Sort of. I’ve just been meaning to get rid of them. So if you want them, you can have them.” 

Allegra frowned. “Are you sure? It looks like you put a lot of effort into these.”

Marinette nodded. “Positive. Take whatever you want.”

Although hesitant at first, the group continued to look through the gifts, and little by little, they started to take some. A smile came to Marinette’s lips as she watched the pile of Adrien junk dwindle. She had spent a lot of time on making the presents, but there was no way she’d be giving them to Adrien now. So what was the point of keeping them in her room? To serve as a mocking reminder of how blind she had been while loving him? No thanks.

By the time they were done, the chest only had half the gifts it used to, and Marinette quickly decided that she would donate the leftovers once she got the chance. 

“Thanks for the stuff, Mari!” Claude said cheerfully, his hands full of various objects.

Allegra nodded, holding a few things herself. “Yeah, you really do spoil us.”

“Which is saying something, considering we’re rich.” Allan teased, pocketing the two items that he’d decided to snatch. 

Marinette chuckled. “You’re helping me more than I am you.”

She stood up and walked to the bathroom to grab the boys’ old clothes. “I’m gonna bring these down to Maman, but feel free to look around until I get back.”

The group voiced their agreements, and Marinette climbed down the trapdoor ladder with the pile of clothes in hand, feeling like another weight had been lifted off of her shoulders.

Getting rid of Adrien’s gifts was one more step towards happiness, and she couldn’t wait to keep walking.

~~~~~~

One can tell a lot about a person by their bedroom. How clean they were, whether they were sentimental, which things they found important- a bedroom could quite literally be considered a box in which someone stored their entire personality. That’s why Felix had been anticipating this part of the visit. Someone can be a master manipulator, but their room would always show their true selves. And it only took one look for Felix to know..

Marinette really loved the color pink.

Seriously, she had it everywhere. The walls, the furniture, the carpet- How was she not sick of the color by now? Felix was sick of it, and he’d only been there for about twenty minutes!

Pushing the pink thought aside, he continued poking around her room. Marinette had gone downstairs to pass his clothes off to her mother, so that gave him a bit of time to inspect the space unsupervised. Not that he was planning on doing anything scandalous. It merely gave him the opportunity of observing Marinette’s room on his own terms.

When she told him that her room was up in the attic, he’d been understandably shocked. The attic didn’t sound like a spacious place to sleep, let alone work on homework and other personal things. Seeing it now, though, Felix realized that that wasn’t the case. The attic was actually quite open. There was a desk, a closet, various chests, a bathroom, and she still had a good portion of the room empty. He wondered if that was thanks to the original size of the room or thanks to Marinette’s resourcefulness.

Her cleaning style wasn’t too bad, either. Don’t get him wrong, there were things scattered everywhere, but it was a specific type of scattered, like an organized chaos. He had a feeling that she knew where most of her necessities were. 

Felix moved to her desk, where most of the mess was focused. There were papers, sewing needles, scraps of fabric, and pencils spread across the surface. Her interest in fashion certainly shined through, as most of the papers were filled with various sketches and measurements. He found that admirable. When someone usually speaks of their ‘dream job’, they speak of it as a fantasy, one that they never intend to fully pursue, but Marinette was obviously reaching as high as she could to grasp her goal. She even had a mannequin in her room.

“Marinette’s room is so cool!” Claude exclaimed from the loft up top. “She even has a balcony!”

Felix glanced upwards, briefly setting the papers he’d been studying aside. There’s a balcony upstairs? He didn’t recall seeing a balcony on the way in.

“Claude, you have a balcony.” Allegra reminded him with an amused smile.

“Yeah, but mine only extends from the side of the building.” Claude defended. “This one’s on the roof!”

Ah, so that’s why Felix hadn’t seen it.

Allan frowned. “Really? Isn’t that a little dangerous?”

“It’s got a rail.” 

“Oh, okay. That’s fine then.”

Allegra chuckled as she brushed her hands against the hat on Marinette’s mannequin. “Marinette’s room is pretty neat, though.”

“I think it’s just Marinette who’s cool.” Allan remarked.

Allegra and Claude heartily agreed, and Felix nodded. “Cool” probably wouldn’t be the exact word that he’d use to describe her, but overall, it wasn’t far off.

“Can you believe we’ve only known her for a week?” Claude asked as he climbed down to their level. “It feels like we’ve known her forever already.”

“Yeah, but I think that’s just how she is.” Allegra smiled. “She draws you in and makes you feel like family.”

“Her parents are the same way.” Allan said. “You can really tell where she gets it from.”

“Where who gets what from?” 

Felix, along with the rest of the group, turned to the trapdoor, where Marinette was standing about halfway through. She didn’t have the clothes anymore, but she did have a tray of drinks.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Allegra said dismissively. “What are those?”

Marinette set the tray on the ground long enough to climb through and close the trapdoor as she explained, “Maman and Papa thought you guys might be thirsty, so she sent me up with a bunch of different drinks to choose from.”

“Sweet!” Claude grinned, swiftly walking over in case she needed help. “Do you have Dr. Pepper?”

Marinette smiled and turned the tray to reveal a deep red can of soda. “Yep! I know it’s your favorite.”

“You truly are a blessing.” Claude replied, grabbing the soda off of the tray.

Marinette giggled and brought the tray forward for the rest of them to pick. Allegra chose a pepsi, while Allan snagged a coke, and Felix grabbed the slim cup of coffee that sat to the side.

He took a sip of it, enjoying the warmth of the bitter liquid. It didn’t escape his notice that Marinette had brought up all of their preferred drinks. She even got his coffee right (Black with three sugars). 

Despite how scatter-brained she could be, Marinette still paid attention to details, which was impressive. Felix didn’t know anyone else who could space out during an entire conversation, yet remember the exact type of drink everyone ordered during lunch.

“So what do you guys want to do now? We still have about half an hour before supper is finished.” Marinette asked, setting the tray aside. 

Allan shrugged. “What do you have?”

Marinette thought for a moment. “Well, we have board games, card games, Mecha Strike 3-”

“Mecha Strike 3?” Claude perked up. “Yes, please!”

Marinette laughed. “Is everyone else okay with that?”

“Sounds great.” Allan smiled.

Allegra shrugged. “I’m fine with it.” 

Felix, being satisfied with his inspection for now, sat down on the chaise. “I’ll watch.”

The rest of the group huddled around Marinette’s computer while she turned it on, and after a bit of debating, they decided on ‘winner faces next player’ and started with Allan and Claude. Felix watched the first two games, just long enough to see Marinette cream Allan, before reverting back to his studious ways. He scanned the bedroom again, hoping to catch something new, when his gaze landed on the trunk that Claude had tipped over earlier. With everyone bustling around it, Felix hadn’t gotten a chance to sift through it, but now that they were occupied with Marinette’s game..

Felix shifted in his seat and re-opened the chest. It was only half full, as opposed to its previously overflowing contents, but that didn’t bother him. There were still plenty of things inside, such as shirts, figurines, hats, and other things. He pulled out a jacket and turned it in his hands, admiring the handiwork. The hood, along with the cuffs of the sleeves and zipper were pitch black, but the rest of the jacket was a deep red, save for the black spots that littered it. “Miraculous” was written on the back in cursive as well. Was this supposed to be based off of the Parisian superhero Ladybug? Why would she want to get rid of this? At the very least, she could make a profit by selling it.

What did she use to make this? The material is so soft.. Felix thought as he unzipped the jacket. It was completely black on the inside, save for some tiny, golden lettering near the section wear the pocket would be.

“To: Adrien

From: Marinette”

Felix frowned. How strange. Why would Marinette be giving away things that she made specifically for someone else? He dug through the chest some more, this time looking for names, and what he found was shocking. 

Almost every gift had the name ‘Adrien’ on it somewhere, whether it be a card or stitching or marker. Some gifts didn’t have a name, but at that point, Felix felt it was safe to assume that everything in the chest was supposed to be for this ‘Adrien’ person. 

That begged the question, though: Who was Adrien? And why would she create so many gifts for him just to give them away?

A small card stitched on the ear of a stuffed cat gave him his answer.

“Dear Adrien, 

Happy 19th birthday! It’s officially been five years since we’ve known each other. Isn’t that crazy? Anyway, I just wanted to say happy birthday (even though I’ve already said it) and that I’m really happy we got to meet. Enjoy the cat!

With all my love, Marinette”

Felix glanced up at Marinette, who was blissfully ignorant of his findings as she defeated Claude for the second time at Mecha Strike 3. Did she intend to use all of these as birthday presents? How many gifts were in there? Did she expect this person to have the same interests twenty years from now? He couldn’t decide if this level of planning was due to over-thinking or just plain obsession. Maybe both.

“Hey, Felix!” 

Felix flinched at the sudden call of his name, weirdly feeling as if he’d been caught in the act of some crime. He looked up to see Claude waving a controller at him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to play?” The brunette asked.

“Talk to me when you have chess.” Felix replied shortly, going back to the chest. He had hoped that seeing Marinette’s room would provide more answers to her life, but it only issued more questions. Did she have this amount of gifts for all of her friends or was Adrien special? If he was special, what way would it be? Was he possibly an ex-lover? She dated him for a while, and they had a recent falling out, which was why she was getting rid of the gifts. That would make sense.

“He just wants to talk.”

Her words from last week resurfaced in his mind. The person who chased her that day was the only one she reacted bitterly towards. Was Adrien trying to get back together with her? 

Was he the reason she left her old school in the first place?

My, my Dupain-Cheng. Felix thought. Aren’t you just full of secrets?

Tag List:  @artbyknigit @athena452 @nickristus-dreamer @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @arsaem @abrx2002 @neakco @pawsitivelymiraculous @too0bsessedformyowngood @nathleigh @lusicing @officiallydarkgeek @all-mights-asscheeks @tbehartoo @woe-is-me0 @raeuberprinzessin @lazuli-11 @miss-chaos27 @trippingovermyfeet @sadpotatoondrugs @ladybug-182 @jaggedheart11 @marinahrasauce

[amanda-glassen]

The Wonder Years: Ch.2

Part of @svuappreciation #WSVU Week Day 1: Getting ready for a party. While getting ready for her first school dance, twelve-year-old Olivia starts a path toward discovering who she is truly meant to be. Sequel to this post 

Olivia loved the outfit she and her mom had picked out, but when she looked in the mirror the next morning, there was still one thing she wanted to change about herself－her hair. Olivia’s shoulder length hair was usually in a ponytail for the purpose of keeping it out of her way when she played sports, but that morning, she realized she wanted a change. She wanted to have her hair neatly cropped like Jamie’s－her mom’s new girlfriend. Olivia had met her two weeks ago when their relationship became official and, although she wasn’t into sports or anything else Olivia was interested in, she made her mom happy and, if her mom liked her, Olivia wanted to give her a chance. 

What she found intriguing was that Jamie didn’t wear dresses and heels and makeup like her mom. She wore ties and vests when they went out on dates and her mom used words like ‘handsome’ and ‘debonair’ to describe her to her friends instead of ‘pretty’ or ‘beautiful’ and, when she looked at her hair in the mirror that morning, she realized she wanted to be handsome and debonair, too. Maybe not debonair after all, Olivia thought. I did run away when Alex flirted with me for the first time. 

Three hours later, Olivia found herself sitting in a chair at a barbershop that Jamie worked at. It was upscale, but made to look rustic, and most of the employees and the patrons were twenty-something and thirty-something hipsters with beards and flannel shirts. Jamie and Olivia were two of only three females there, but Olivia loved the vibe and the way she was made to feel like she fit in. 

“I want my hair like yours,” Olivia told Jamie once she sat down in the chair. Jamie’s hair was neatly cut into a classic side part haircut and Olivia knew it was the look for her.

With every inch of her hair that was cut, Olivia felt like she was becoming who she was always meant to be. She didn’t have to feel confused anymore or worry about why she didn’t fit into the cookie cutter expectation of what a girl should be. Olivia Margaret Benson could now define her identity on her own terms.

As soon as Jamie was finished, Olivia walked over to the chairs in the waiting area to show her mom. “Mom, how do I look?”

Serena nearly gasped when she saw her daughter. “Come closer so I can get a better look at you.” She began to touch her daughter’s newly cropped hair. “You little Cassanova. Look at you!  I’m not letting you go out tonight. I don’t want Alex and every other girl at the dance to fall in love with you and steal you away from me.”

“Mom!” Olivia giggled. “I look okay?”

“Very handsome,” Serena responded. She playfully kissed her daughter’s cheek and Olivia giggled again as she tried to wipe off the red lipstick print that her mom had left on her cheek.

“Mom, not in front of the guys,” Olivia said while she looked around to make sure no one was watching.

“I’m not letting you wash that lipstick off,” Serena teased. “I’m going to make sure it stays on your cheek to deter Alex from kissing you there.”

Olivia smirked. “She’ll just kiss me on the lips.”

“Ollie!” Serena’s eyes grew wide. “That’s it. No dating until you’re twenty.”

Olivia noticed Jamie walking over with a face wipe in hand. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

“Here, kid,” she said as she handed it to Olivia. “I keep these at my station because your mom has a tendency to mark her territory. Just be grateful she didn’t wear her burgundy lipstick. That stuff stained my cheek for the rest of the day. But, Ollie, I’ll be over in a couple of hours to help you get ready for tonight. I have some gifts for you, too.”

“Really?” Olivia asked. “Thanks!” Under normal circumstances, only her mom would be able to get away with calling her Ollie, but since gifts were involved, she figured one more person calling her Ollie couldn’t hurt.

As soon as she got home, Olivia scarfed down a frozen pizza for dinner despite her mom offering to make something much healthier. “Frozen pizza gives me energy,” Olivia told her. “And now that there’s less than ninety minutes until it’s time to leave, I need all the energy I can get.”

While her daughter was eating, Serena began to iron Olivia’s outfit, mainly because she didn’t trust her twelve-year-old’s ironing skills before such an important event in her life. 

“Mom! I’ll get it!” Olivia called out when she heard a knock at their door. It’s Jamie with my gifts! Olivia opened the door to find Jamie holding a dozen roses and she tried unsuccessfully to hide the look of disappointment on her face when she figured that might be her gift. 

“Relax, kid,” Jamie laughed. “Only one of these is for you. Eleven are for me to give to my woman and one is for you to give to yours.”

“...girls really like this sort of thing?” Olivia asked as she examined the perfect red rose Jamie had handed to her. 

“A single red rose is one of the most romantic things you can give your girlfriend,” Jamie pointed out. 

“Then why eleven for my mom?”

“Because eleven months ago today, I had my first date with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on,” Jamie smiled at her.

Olivia gave her a confused look. “You started dating her eleven months ago and she barely became your girlfriend two weeks ago. What took so long?”

Jamie tousled Olivia’s hair. “You of all people should know that you can’t tell Serena Benson what to do. If it were up to me, she would have become my girlfriend the day I met her, but I wanted to wait until she was ready. Even if I had to wait years, your mom is worth the wait.”

“Was I supposed to hear that?” Serena asked when she entered the living room. She had changed into a somewhat short black sweater dress and black stilettos with a 4 inch heel. How anyone could walk in those was beyond Olivia and she could imagine herself falling the moment she took her first step. I’d probably look like a baby giraffe learning how to walk. 

“You look incredible.” Olivia noticed Jamie get up and make her way over to her mom. Do not kiss my mom. Much to Olivia’s chagrin, she did kiss her and even if it was a chaste kiss it made her mom smile in a way that Olivia had never seen her smile before and she was practically beaming when Jamie gave her the flowers. I still don’t want to see anyone kissing my mommy, though.

Olivia made a mental note to compliment Alex’s appearance and give her the rose. I guess girls really do go for that sort of thing. I wonder what else Jamie can teach me.

“Ollie, go get dressed,” Serena urged her. “We have to leave in an hour.”

Olivia groaned. “It doesn’t take an hour to put on pants and a shirt. The game is about to start.”

"Ollie!" Serena gritted her teeth. "Go get dressed."

"Oh, I get it," Olivia tried and failed to wink. "Get rid of the kid so you can kiss."

"No," Serena responded. She held out her hands to help her reluctant daughter off the couch despite the fact that Olivia would miss the first pitch of the Mets game. "I'm getting rid of my kid because she volunteered me to drive her and her girlfriend to the dance without telling me until today and I don't want Mrs. Cabot judging me for being late. I saw her at the parent/teacher conferences last trimester. The woman is...judgy."

"Judgy?" Jamie laughed. "Judgy says the Ivy League English professor. I know you're 10 or 15 years younger than the other moms but you're 33 and 33 is not a child, Serena."

"You're only saying that because you've yet to see Mrs. Cabot's 'you're an irresponsible Millennial' look," Serena responded, finally able to get Olivia off of the couch and away from the Mets game. "She looks you up and down as if she is judging every little detail of your appearance, smirks, and then looks you up and down again."

"Maybe she's just checking you out," Jamie shrugged. "Ever think of that?"

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response," Serena gently tugged Olivia’s arm. "Come on, Ollie."

Putting her outfit on took less than two minutes, so Olivia wondered why her mom made her get ready so early until she remembered that Jamie had some more gifts for her, one of which was a product for her hair. They were soon standing in front of the vanity mirror in her mom’s bedroom and Olivia was about to begin her first lesson. “This is my favorite pomade,” Jamie told her. “Your girl is gonna love the way it looks on you, kid.”

“Hopefully not too much,” Serena cut in. “She’s still my little Ollie.”

“Babe, your little Ollie has a date to get ready for,” Jamie reminded her. Olivia didn’t exactly approve of anyone calling her mom ‘babe,’ but she was eager for Jamie’s lesson to begin so she could look good for Alex. “Okay, kid, get a dime sized amount on your fingers and rub them together to get it all over your fingertips. We’re gonna keep your hair parted on the side just the way it is, but now we’re gonna slick this front part back and the side down. Move your fingers from just near the roots all the way to the tips and then use the palm of your hand to smooth your hair back.” 

Olivia tried to mimic Jamie’s motions but she wasn’t pleased with the end result. “Why didn’t mine come out as good as yours?”

“I’ve had years of practice, kid,” Jamie said as she fixed Olivia’s hair. “It’ll become second nature before you know it and when you run out of this stuff let me know and I’ll get you some more.”

“Thanks, Jamie,” Olivia responded while she admired her new hairstyle in the mirror. 

“Next is your cologne. What do you usually wear?”

“A gummy bear scented body spray,” Olivia said sheepishly. 

“Hey, don’t be shy about that,” Jamie said as she placed her hand on Olivia’s shoulder. “That’s fine to wear for school or when you’re hanging out with your friends. I have an everyday body spray, too, and then cologne that I wear for more special occasions like when I take your mom out on a date.” She turned to face Serena. “Babe, can you get the cologne from my overnight bag?” Overnight bag? She’s staying overnight and calling my mom ‘babe’ again? But if my mom is happy then I guess she’s okay.

Serena handed Olivia the small bottle of Abercrombie & Fitch cologne that Jamie had purchased for her. “I don’t approve of you wearing anything other than your gummy bear spray,” Serena told her. “But I’m willing to let it slide for tonight.”

“Mom,” Olivia groaned. “Can we please let Jamie work her magic here?”

“Magic?” Serena tried not to laugh. “Don’t let me stand in the way of the magic woman herself.”

“I managed to get the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on,” Jamie reminded her. “That means I must have done something right.” That statement earned Jamie a few kisses, so Olivia decided to make a mental note. Compliments lead to kisses, so be sure to compliment Alex the entire night. What am I saying? I’ll probably faint if she kisses me.

“Okay, Ollie, spritz some of the cologne on yourself here and here,” Jamie said as she pointed to her neck and wrists. “Remember a little goes a long way. You don’t want your girl to start choking when she’s near you. This was my favorite when I was your age and I think you’ll like it, too.”

Olivia spritzed a small amount just as Jamie had instructed her. It smelled somewhat woodsy and very masculine and Olivia had a feeling Alex was going to love it on her.

“Your turn, Serena,” Olivia heard Jamie say.

“What do you mean?” Olivia asked worriedly. 

“Relax, kid,” Jamie laughed. “Now it’s your mom’s turn to work her magic with the styling. She styles me all the time. I don’t know how but most girly girls are experts with sleeves and ties. You should let Alex cuff your sleeves before your next date.”

“Okay, I have two problems with what you said,” Serena began. “One, I’m a grown woman and not a girly girly and, two, can you stop trying to turn my Olliegator into some kind of stud like you? She’s still my baby.”

“I think she’s Alex’s now,” Jamie teased, although her girlfriend was less than amused.

Olivia stood in front of her mom while she styled her long sleeves into ¾ sleeves and tied her tie. It was a more intricate process than Olivia imagined, but her mom’s delicate touch made it all seem so easy. Once her tie was tucked in under her vest, Olivia noticed her mom’s big brown eyes welling with tears.

“Mom, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said, reaching out to touch Olivia’s cheek. “You just look so handsome, Ollie, and so grown up. I feel like just yesterday you were wanting me to cuddle you and now you’re going on your first date. It’s all happening so fast.”

Olivia gave her mom a kiss on the cheek. “Alex is my girlfriend, but I’ll always be your Ollie and I’ll always love you more than anyone else in the whole world.”

“I love you so much, darling,” Serena said softly. She knew it wouldn’t be easy to hug Olivia without wrinkling her shirt, but she tried to anyway. “I want you to enjoy yourself. Jamie is going to keep me company so I’m not a nervous wreck, and then when you get home tonight, I want you to tell me that you had the best night of your life because you deserve it, Ollie. You’re such a sweet kid and you deserve so many good things to happen to you.”

The drive to Alex’s house felt like an eternity for Olivia, especially with her mom’s playlist of ‘00s pop music playing throughout the entire drive. When Jamie pulled into the Cabot’s driveway, a pep talk felt appropriate. “You’ve got this, kid,” she said to Olivia who was nervously clutching the stem of the rose she was going to give to her girlfriend. “Alex is gonna love your new look.” Jamie then kissed Serena’s hand. “And babe, try to play nice with Mrs. Cabot.”

[mythgirlimagines]

Rushing into your inbox is this week’s Talentswapped Myth! Please give a quick hello to Myth, the Former Ultimate Sprinter!

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BACKSTORY AND TALENT

Myth’s motivation for becoming a pro sprinter was a pretty simple reason. As the daughter of two accomplished marathon runners, running was practically in Myth’s blood, ever since she learned how to walk. Myth was regarded as a prodigy amongst the crowds, for her innate stamina and her skill at running. In fact, Myth is currently planning on running in the Olympics, after graduating Hope’s Peak and chaperoning the Ultimates and Jr. Ultimates. Extra Fact: Let’s just say that all that running caused Myth to become quite the looker, for she became famous around her school for her looks, charming the pants off both girls and boys. In fact, people sell candid pictures of a hot and sweaty Myth all around the school for money, only to get stopped by Myth’s overly protective childhood friend. All while Myth remains completely oblivious to that.

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RELATIONSHIPS

Wyre Anon, Former Ultimate Emergency Planner

Despite her reckless, headstrong and almost delinquent-like behavior, Wyre is praised amongst her peer group for being prepared for any situation, whether environmental or medical. As the childhood friend of the simpleminded and scatterbrained Myth, Wyre is always one step behind her, making sure that Myth doesn’t get herself into any harm. Wyre is basically the Akaashi to Myth‘s Bokuto. Wyre also scares off people from Myth’s school who want to take candid pictures of a sweaty and undressing Myth and sell them for money in the school’s unofficial underground market, much to the confusion of the ditzy track star. Outfit: A construction hat on her head, a dark grey sleeveless parka over a red button-up shirt, a tool belt with a care kit for everybody and every occasion, blue jeans, brown steel toed boots and matching gloves, intact glasses.

Anon Scar, Ultimate Sharpshooter

Claiming to be cursed by an ancient parasitic spirit that inserted itself into her left eye, Anon Scar was nicknamed by the people of the shooting range she frequents as “Black Bullseye”, which obviously came from the skill she shows when she is in the booths of said shooting range. Acting like an old and grizzled war veteran and constantly speaking of “The Old War”, needless to say, Myth bought into Scar‘s chuuni act, much to the embarrassment of the sharpshooter. As Myth eventually figured out, Scar acts a lot like a mother to the more reckless and childish members of the Kibo-Con roster, but Myth especially.    Outfit: An black eyepatch on her left eye and a green military-esque uniform with black gloves and boots.

Fusion Anon, Ultimate Gardener

Fusion made worldwide news thanks to the large grove of fruit trees and bushes that he managed to cultivate all by himself, which was a massive turnaround from the dry and sparse farmland that his grandparents abandoned. Fusion views the trees and plants that he grew almost like his children, and he applies the same philosophy to his conmates, much like Scar. It could be said that Fusion basically adopted Myth, along with the rest of the con. If Myth ever gets hungry while on a run, Fusion is always right by her side with some fresh and delicious fruit on hand. Myth regularly likes to go for nature runs through Fusion’s giant garden.

Outfit: A red turtleneck sweater, blue overalls, green rainboots and gloves, a blue bandana around his neck with small yellow sunflowers all over, flowers in his large afro, glasses from original design.

Fusion Anon II, Ultimate Finder

Being famed around her school for her cool and rebellious attitude and her ability to find objects that her schoolmates lost, she was nicknamed “Sherlock Jr.” by her peers. Eventually, Fusion II started her own business, helping the citizens of her hometown find lost objects and even pets and children. But much to Fusion II’s dismay, her cool facade is constantly undermined by her nerdy side and her love for memes. Because Myth loses things all the time, Myth regularly and tearfully turns to Fusion II to help find them. And with the finding of the lost items, came praise from Myth and an ego boost for Fusion II.

Outfit: A dark blue fedora that casts shade over her eyes, a matching trench coat over a long white dress and black heeled boots.

Just Anon, Ultimate Screenwriter

If you were alive in show business, than you should know the name of Just Anon, known for producing only the greatest in screenplays of TV shows and movies. That is, if he ever gets into a creative mood, in which last-minute panic seem to be the only thing able to perk him up. In layman’s terms, he‘s a chronic procrastinator, despite being an entertainment king. Janon’s lazy attitude, despite his massive potential to succeed, warrants a potential punch in the face from Myth, and she wants to get to the root of the true personality beneath that demonic hoodie. Hopefully, Myth would never find out about Janon’s soft spot for kids.

Outfit: A black face mask with a crooked smile on the front, a hoodie that resembles a cartoon devil, underneath the same formal wear from his original design.

Sparkle Anon, Former Ultimate Linguist

As the wealthy daughter of two ambassadors, Sparkle has been exposed to foreign tongues and dialects, ever since she was little, and still finds foreign languages fascinating, often watching stage plays from other countries to learn more about their native tongues. Myth always found Sparkle’s skill in foriegn languages to be fascinating, and Sparkle finds Myth’s athletic skills (and her bodacious body, particularly her strong and athletic legs) to be equally stunning. Unfortunately, Wyre wasn’t about to let Myth be gawked at by the eyes of the flashy and dramatic linguist, and tries to thwart the devious plans of Sparkle. 

Outfit: Same outfit from her original design, but with the Rubik’s Cube skirt replace with a blue skirt that has several languages printed on it.

Egg Anon, Former Ultimate Confidant, and Wet Sock Anon, Former Ultimate Volleyball Player

Famous for running a blog that allows people from all around the world to vent their secrets to them, known as “What’s Crackin’”, Egg Anon seems to be way more reliable online compared to real life, where they sprout off cursed comments, alongside their equally cursed twin, famous volleyball star Wet Sock Anon. Myth seems to be the only person in the con who actually finds the cursed comments that the Freak Twins spout funny, often laughing when other Anons are staring in disgust. Myth, ever the open book, loves to vent to Egg, and Myth is happy to find that the famous volleyball star themselves is chaperoning the con trip alongside her.

Egg’s Outfit: A green hoodie over a yellow t-shirt and matching yellow hair clips, glasses, pants and shoes from original design.

Wet Sock’s Outfit: A black and white volleyball uniform, white socks, black volleyball shoes, hair tied back into a small ponytail, glasses from original design.

Curious Anon, Jr. Ultimate Tattoo Artist

Despite their yakuza connections and heavily tattooed arms, Curious wouldn’t hurt a fly (except if someone ordered them to) and takes all the stigma they face for their tattoos and connections with a smile on their face. After their family’s yakuza business went belly-up, Curious’s family decided to earn money the clean way, and opened up a tattoo parlour. Curious proved themselves to be a master at tattoo art and garnered popularity. Myth always wanted a tattoo on her arm, and asked Curious to give her cool lightning bolts on her left arm. Myth quickly bolted away, never to return, when she saw Curious holding a needle.

Outfit: A white button up shirt, black pants with black suspenders, heavily tattooed arms, shoes from original design.

Anon Nerd, Former Ultimate Carpenter

Famous for using his trademark goggles to burn patterns into wood and his masterful craftsmanship when it comes to creating wooden structures, it was no wonder that Nerd earned the title of Ultimate Carpenter. Nerd is also famous for his uncontrollable temper and rage issues, if he were to be interrupted, and the horrible burns that the poor shmuck who interrupted Nerd winds up getting. Unfortunately for Myth, she constantly interrupts Nerd in the middle of work, and has to suffer burns that have to be cared for by Wyre in the process. This means that Nerd and Wyre are mortal enemies, much to the dismay of the track star.

Outfit: Red-tinted goggles, a red flannel shirt with rolled up sleeves, brown gloves, tool belt, and shoes, blue jeans.

Eldritch Anon, Ultimate Surfer

Born on an isolated island in the middle of the ocean, Eldritch dominated all of the surfing competitions in both his area and foreign areas, garnering fame around his island as having an innate ability to find the biggest and most impressive waves in the deep and blue ocean. Unfortunately, being born on an isolated island doesn’t exactly translate into great social skills and trust in others, for he shows a hostile distrust in just about everybody, believing that they have harmful magical powers intent on harming him. This upsets Myth, because she genuinely wants to bond with a fellow jock, but Eldritch just continues to push Myth away.    

Outfit: Camo-hoodie from original design with nothing underneath, shorts from original design, seafoam flip flops, long hair in a ponytail.

Dream Anon, Ultimate Hiker

Famous for hiking long distances, no matter the terrain or weather, Dream Anon broke many world records in her trekking endeavors. Dream has a great love for nature and landscapes, and lives for the thrill of visiting new and obscure locales. Out of all of the Kibo-Con participants, Dream is the most similar to Myth personality-wise, and thus, Dream and Myth get along the best. Both of them bonded over their sporty personalities and their love for exploring new locales. Dream instantly realized she‘d be good friends with Myth, when Myth cleared Dream’s hiking spots in record speed, and now, they have hiking races together. 

Outfit: Black sunglasses, a heavy pink and grey jacket, a large backpack, black shorts, brown boots.

Iris Anon, Jr. Ultimate Tree Climber

Just like how Myth was good at running ever since she learned how to walk, Iris has been good at climbing things, ever since she was a baby. Despite being clumsy and uncoordinated when on the ground, when it comes to climbing trees, she’s a master, to the point that Hope’s Peak Middle School christened her with the title of “Jr. Ultimate Tree Climber”. Along with the innate ability to climb trees very well, Iris also is very knowledgeable when it comes to trees. Just like with Dream, Iris and Myth get along very well, thanks to their similar personalities, and they love experimenting with each other’s talents for the day.

Outfit: Same outfit from her original design, but with a tree motif in her design.

Purple Anon, Ultimate Lip Reader

Despite being born deaf, the timid yet determined Purple wouldn’t let her handicap stop her from communicating with others. On the side, Purple hosts lip-reading seminars for the deaf and is famed for her polite and wise nature. Off of the seminar grounds though, Purple is far more timid, but can still understand what others are saying, thanks to her expertise in lip reading. Myth may not really know what it‘s like to be deaf, but Myth would try her best to support the timid lip-reader regardless, even if Purple’s loquacious and old-fashioned vocabulary just confuses Myth, and she needs the smarter Anons to translate for her.  Outfit: Same outfit from the original, but without the beret and purple hearing aids.

This series would center around a simple-minded yet supportive sprinter getting babied and protected from her obsessive fanclub by the other Anons, Bokuto-style, much to the sprinter’s confusion!

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PERSONALITY 

The best way to describe Sprinter!Myth’s personality would be a female version of Bokuto from Haikyuu. Simple-minded, childish, and easily-impressed, Sprinter!Myth is what the modern generation would call a “her-mbo”. But as much of a simpleton as she is, she’s still really determined and steadfast, as well as kind and supportive towards her friends. Unlike Romantic!Myth, Sprinter!Myth is utterly dense to anything relating to attraction or romance, extending to her fanclub at her school.

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APPEARANCE

Sprinter!Myth has natural brown hair in a lightning bolt-shaped ponytail and an ahoge to match, contact lenses that she always forgets to put in, a headband colored like the bisexual flag, a bandage on her right cheek, a blue track jacket with white stripes over a white shirt with a “#6” on the front, red athletic shorts with white stripes and drawstrings, long white socks, and red and white running shoes.

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I hope you like this talentswap! Let me know what you think of this week’s swaps!

-Fusion Anon

[indecentpause]

Your OC’s Backstory Week 2: Joy

Another prompt from @yourocsbackstory , this week, Joy! I know it doesn’t seem to start out happy, but the final outcome is one of the happiest moments of Josselin’s life.

From The Most Beautiful Puzzle backstory

cw: therapy, psychiatrist, autism screening, mentions of adhd meds

The psychiatrist’s office was quiet, with dim lighting and squeaky furniture. Josselin fidgeted in his seat, picking at his shirt hem. His breathing came a little too fast and he was afraid he might even pass out or throw up. With his other hand, he held Square tight to his chest.

Mom gently nudged his knee and he jumped clear out of the chair.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” she said. “I know you’re scared, but hopefully the doctor can help you. If we can figure out why you’re struggling so much, maybe we can fix it, or at least find ways to work around it. Ways that are better for you.”

Josselin sniffled and blinked away his tears. He wasn’t sure what normal was, but he knew he and his mom weren’t it.

Finally, the doctor called them back. Josselin couldn’t help being taken by surprise: the doctor was maybe Mom’s age, and she was smiling reassuringly. She wasn’t the old grumpy man he’d expected.

“Come on back with me, both of you,” she said softly, like she was afraid being too loud in the dim room would break something.

Josselin held Square tight, burying his nose in the old crochet toy, and he breathed, and it smelled like strawberries and flowers because Mom had spritzed it with a body spray sample from the department store earlier today. He didn’t ask if they could buy one, because the store looked expensive, and he knew how hard Mom worked to keep them afloat.

The doctor sat down beside a desk and gestured for Josselin and Mom to sit in the two chairs opposite. They did. Josselin immediately started rocking and wringing Square in his hands, trying not to bite down on it because even though chewing helped him calm down, he didn’t want to embarrass Mom. She noticed, though, like she noticed everything, and handed him a piece of cinnamon gum. Not ideal, but at least it was something he could chew without other people being mean about it.

“My name’s Dr. Laura,” she said. “But you can just call me Laura, if you like.”

Josselin nodded, but didn’t speak.

“I can see you’re nervous,” Dr. Laura said, “and I completely understand. It’s scary to see a doctor, especially a psychiatrist. But I’m here to help. Your mom was concerned about some of your behaviors, so I’m going to talk to both of you, and give you some questions to answer, and we’ll see if we can come up with what’s bothering you, okay?”

Josselin’s brow furrowed. “Like a test?” He’d never taken a real test before, not like in real school. Mom always taught him on the road.

Dr. Laura smiled. “Yes, but there’s no wrong answer. Just whatever is most true for you.”

Josselin hesitated, but nodded.

“Now, I’m going to ask your mom some questions, too, while you’re answering yours.” She tilted her chin toward the wall sized window into the next room. It was empty, other than a table and some chairs and some toys.

Josselin glanced nervously from Dr. Laura to Mom and back. But Mom was smiling, and it was a real smile, so it must have been okay.

Dr. Laura led him to the room behind the window and called in another young woman to sit with him, so he wouldn’t be alone. He’d like it better if it was Mom, but the doctor had to talk to her. The test was only a couple pages and the print was big, which made it a little less scary. He began to write his name on the top, but got distracted by a really cool toy in the corner, with lots of little wooden sticks and rails and little beads he could slide around on them. The lady didn’t tell him to stop, so he kept playing, switching from toy to toy and eventually ending up back at the table with a coloring book. Nobody said he had to stop, so maybe he could do this instead!

Every now and then, he looked back through the window at Mom and Dr. Laura. Their faces were serious. Was he in trouble? Were they mad at him?

Oh, no, he forgot about the test!

He pushed the coloring book and crayons to the side and grabbed his test and pencil. A lot of the questions were confusing and difficult to answer, but when he asked the lady about it, she only said, “Just be honest. There are no wrong answers.”

His handwriting was all over the place, but it always had been. He didn’t know how much time passed until he finished, and when he did, he pushed it to the side and looked around the room. It was too quiet and still. So he started humming quietly to himself, one of the many songs he and Mom would sing on the road, and soon after began drumming at the table with his pencil.

The door opened. Josselin looked up to see Dr. Laura standing there.

“Have you answered the questions?” There was no malice or challenge in her voice, at least, he didn’t think? He always had a hard time telling, except with Mom.

He nodded. She smiled and gestured to him to follow her back to the first room.

He picked up his paper and pencil and Square and followed her back.

For the first time in his life, he couldn’t read Mom’s facial expression. She wasn’t mad, she wasn’t happy, she wasn’t crying. What was happening?

Dr. Laura took the paper and looked over Josselin’s answers. He turned to look at Mom, who was watching the doctor. She looked as nervous as she felt. He usually didn’t like to touch people but sometimes when he was upset, Mom would touch his elbow and it helped him feel better. So he did the same. She turned to him and finally smiled.

After what seemed like ages of silence, Dr. Laura finally spoke.

“Unfortunately, you’ll both have to come back and answer some more questions and we’ll have to watch Josselin interact with other kids for a little while, but I think you’re right, Ms. Clearwater. We should pursue this, because while he’s definitely atypical, he shows symptoms of both autism and ADHD, and many of them overlap, so we’ll require some more screening. He may only have one, he may have both, it may be something else entirely. Can you come back next week for some further screening?”

Autism? ADHD? What was that?

“Mom,” he whispered, pulling on her sleeve. “Mom, am I in trouble?”

The relief in Mom’s voice was so clear, even he couldn’t mistake it for anything else.

“Oh, no, sweetheart, you’re not in trouble at all! You know how sometimes you can’t pay attention even if you want to, or it’s hard for you to think, or you move around in ways that other people don’t? Or how you don’t like certain textures of food, or you repeat yourself even if you don’t need to?”

Josselin nodded slowly.

“Well, Dr. Laura here is helping us find out why, so we can see how we can make things easier for you.”

“Am I sick?” Josselin’s voice shook.

Mom shook her head and brushed his hair out of his face. “Not at all, Josselin. Something that’s wonderful about the world is that everyone’s different. And I know sometimes the things you do make you upset, so I wanted to see if a professional could give us advice.”

Josselin’s eyes widened. A bright smile spread across his face and he shoved the corner of Square into his mouth to keep from crying out in joy.

He wasn’t sick. He wasn’t wrong. He was just different, and that was okay. And Mom and the doctor could help it not bother him so much!

If he wasn’t sick, he didn’t need a cure, and the relief of having that knowledge rushed through him like warm soup in the winter. And nobody was mad at him!

“You mean we’re going to figure out why I do all those weird things?”

 Mom began to speak, but Dr. Laura interrupted her. “You’re not weird, Josselin. But we’re going to help you find a way to express yourself that is most comfortable for you, while making sure others can understand your needs. Does that sound like something you want to try?”

He looked up at Mom. She was still smiling.

“Yes!” It almost came out a yelp of excitement, and he hugged Square to his face again. He paused. “Do I… do I have to do that therapy stuff?”

“If you want, I can schedule you for a few sessions,” Mom said gently. “But you don’t have to. And if you do, it will just be talking to someone for a little while every few days. Nothing scary or invasive.”

Josselin’s grin grew even brighter, and he couldn’t help himself: he jumped to his feet and bounced around in a circle, because he was okay, he wasn’t sick, he wasn’t bad, and Mom wasn’t mad at him!

“It’ll take a little while to find a diagnosis,” Dr. Laura said. “But if you’re patient with us, we can work with you and your mom to figure out what you need. Even if it’s just a low dose of medication for ADHD.”

So this was why they’d come back to their hometown. This was why they were staying with one of Mom’s friends. They did all that so they could help him?

He didn’t realize he was tearing up until Mom said, “Josselin, love, are you all right?”

Josselin nodded adamantly and bounced around a few more times before he sat back down, but he couldn’t still entirely. He bounced the balls of his feet on the carpeted floor, and wrung Square around in his hands, but this time in pure excitement and joy.

He wasn’t bad. Everything was going to be okay.

[seokiloquy]

Stick Figures - Kozume Kenma

AU: Writing soulmate (kind of….) (it’s more like drawing….)  Whatever is drawn or written on your body appears on your soulmate's

Word Count: 1.6K +

Kenma tended to wear long sleeves. Most people questioned him about it, why would he wear long sleeves when his soulmate wouldn’t be able to see the drawings or writings on his skin? Almost everyone around him, or people he saw walking on the street, wore short sleeves in hope to catch a glimpse of an arm or hand with ink that would match theirs.  

At 16, the inked drawings would start appearing on your soulmate’s skin. If you had one, then the first thing that you drew would glow a light gold against the skin. If you didn’t have one, then it would turn red, but that was rare. It only happened if your soulmate had already died or if there were other individual circumstances. 

He only answered when his mom asked. 

“I only want them to see what I draw. I think that I will just know when I see them regardless of the drawings on their arms.” 

He would meet them when the time was right. He didn’t need to rush things and he didn’t mind waiting. 

Kenma was only nervous the first few weeks of his soulmate-ness. He would draw almost anything that he saw, books sitting on his desk, trees through the window of his classroom, everything and get nothing in return. That was the only time he really worried about it. 

He kept drawing, until one day a small happy face appeared on the corner of his wrist. His soulmate was seeing his drawings and that was the only thing that mattered. However, they wouldn’t draw much or often. Sometimes broken words or sentences would stay on his skin, but he couldn’t make out the messages the person was trying to say. 

The process was odd and convoluted. Most drawings appear on your soulmate's skin unless it was faces or something to give your location. Some words would go through, again nothing that could give yourself away. Sentences would get broken and mixed and only words of emotion would break through to the other side. 

Kenma would get messages like: sun — blossom— every — sad— place. 

He guessed the universe wanted everyone to struggle a bit before they found their soulmate. 

He could tell that his soulmate was more of a writer than a drawer. However, that only made the times when his soulmate drew something more special. He would wake up to stick figures with empty speech bubbles and half drawn butterflies on his arm. Those were the days where he started the day off with a smile. 

He took pictures of all of them, everything drawn onto his skin. 

The biggest surprise was when he woke up with a beautiful drawing on his left arm. Fully bloomed cherry blossoms wrapped around his forearm, drawn with sketchy lines, almost covering it up entirely with it. It started small at the wrist with the first flower and then the blossoms progressive got bigger as it curved down to his elbow. A branch held them all together and spiralled up to his shoulder, fading out just past it. 

He stared at it intently, it almost looked like a professional tattoo, but it couldn’t have been one. Drawings would only show up if they were hand drawn by someone. 

His mom knocked on his door. “You’re going to be late for school.” 

She looked down at his arm and walked closer towards him. “Yours?” 

Kenma shook his head. “No.” 

His mom took his arm carefully and turned it around. “It looks kind of familiar? Doesn’t it?” 

He could see his mom’s permanent mark below her wrist. It was small and he could never make out what it was supposed to be. Another side effect to soulmates, when you finally meet them, whatever was drawn or written on your arm would stay there. 

“Not really,” he said, looking at it more closely himself. “I see cherry blossoms every day when I walk to school. It could be those or they could have been copied from a picture.” 

“You know people draw really amazing things like this so that it could stand out.” His mom said, dropping his arm. “Maybe you should wear short sleeves today.” 

“I like wearing long sleeves.” 

His mom sighed. “Kenma, have you ever thought that your soulmate might want to find out who you are?” 

He shrugged and then heard the door close behind him. 

It would be a waste to wear short sleeves. He was only going to school and no one at school was his soulmate. The first week that he discovered that he had one, he purposely drew big things on his arms and tried to see if anyone would notice and come up to him, but no one did. Since then, he stopped looking at school. 

He ran his thumb over his forearm and smiled. Grabbing his phone, he took a quick photo of it before it washed off naturally. 

Somewhere out there was his soulmate. 

Sometimes Kenma despised Kuroo. In the middle of his video game, Kuroo barged into his room and dragged him outside. He was meeting his own soulmate at an art gallery that was showing work of local artists, including his soulmate and Kuroo wanted to go and support them. 

“I’ll buy you lunch and pay for the ticket! Come on.” Kuroo said, pulling on Kenma’s shirt, tugging it where the drawing was. “I don’t wanna go alone!” 

Kenma pulled away and glared. “Fine. Just don’t ditch me when we get there.” 

Kuroo nodded and smirked. “Promise.” 

Kuroo did not keep his promise. He left as soon as he spotted his soulmate. Kenma decided to not waste the ticket that Kuroo brought him, so he walked around the gallery. Not to mention that Kuroo offered him lunch and he wasn’t going to pass that up. 

He enjoyed looking at art even if some of the pieces were questionable. He took his time looking around. Maybe he could take some inspiration from some of the pieces to hint that he was at an art gallery to his soulmate. Most of his attention was on the paintings that had more detail and definition until he moved to a more quiet section of the local artwork and stumbled upon drawings. 

They weren’t the original drawings. They were photos of the artwork printed on large pieces of paper and put into frames to be hung on the wall. There were fewer people here and he could hear Kuroo a little bit away. 

Some of the drawings were better than the art pieces outside in the main gallery. He could tell that the drawings had a lot of care and thought put into them with every line, stroke and shading meticulously chosen. 

“They are really good right?” 

Kenma turned around. A person was standing behind him, their hands behind their back and was looking at the drawings behind him. 

“Yes. I’m surprised that they aren’t closer to the main gallery.” 

They smiled. “I know! If I didn’t know where I was going I probably wouldn’t have seen anything else. They are really amazing.” 

Kenma smiled. “I was trying to find my friend. I’m kind of glad I didn’t find him yet though.” 

The person took a step closer. “I’m (Y/N). Is your friend a part of the galley?” 

Kenma nodded. “I’m Kenma and no, he isn’t, but his soulmate is. Are you part of the gallery?” 

(Y/N) laughed and shook their head. “God no. I can’t draw to save my life. My brother has his corner over there. I’m here as a supporter.”

They pointed behind them. Their left sleeve curled into their arm showing a small part of their wrist. 

Kenma blinked. “What’s on your arm?” 

(Y/N) raised their eyebrows, but rolled up their sleeve anyway. Inch by inch, the drawing that Kenma had stared at on his own arm relieved itself on (Y/N)’s. They smiled and started talking again even though Kenma could barely do anything but look at their arm. “My brother usually does more tattoos and he wanted to try something on a real person that wasn’t himself.” 

After a moment of silence, (Y/N) chuckled nervously. “ Kenma? Are you okay?” 

He looked up and rolled up his own sleeve. (Y/N)’s eyes widened as their arm dropped to the side, staring at Kenma’s arm that displayed their brother’s drawing. He held back a small laugh forming in his chest, did he look like this in those moments of silence? 

“We didn’t know whether or not it would show up on my soul —on your arm,” (Y/N) whispered, still in awe. They threw up a hand to cover their eyes, a smile spreading across their lips. “Holy shit, you suffered through my stick fingers while you drew me amazing trees and flowers.” 

Kenma smiled and walked up to (Y/N). He pulled their hand away and gently held the arm that canvased the drawing. He took out his own arm again and held them together, they glowed a faint gold, marking its permanence. 

“I really liked your stick drawings,” Kenma said softly. 

“Seriously?” 

“Yes,” he said. 

His hand slowly fell into (Y/N)’s hand and held it tightly. “I would love anything you drew.”

Hello!! This is the first time in a bit at I 1) finished the one shot on time and 2) wrote something fluffy. I feel like I lost my touch with fluffiness though...As you could see if you're an advised reader/follower of this one shot book that I usually write more seriously? Sad? Ansty? Stuff So it’s kind of weird to not write those things….

Hopefully it’s okay? Maybe I’ll try writing more fluffy stuff to keep the skill! 

Also, this isn’t Ready. Aim. Fire? Part 3.. That’s going to be the week after next!!! 

Thank you for reading! - Kiwi

Posted: 11/07/2020

[zeldahime]

Prompt (list linked in a reblog): You live across from me in our apartments and we smile when we see each other but we don’t really know each other and oh you’re the stripper at my friend’s stag do/hen night fuck this is really uncomfortable

Sapphic!XiYao, 1900 words.

***

Lan Xichen's across-the-hall neighbor, a small, delicate girl named Meng Yao, left her apartment for work at the same time Xichen arrived home most days; her days off were Tuesday and Wednesday, and Xichen's were Saturday and Sunday, but they still managed to see each other nearly every day.

They saw each other and talked often, little tidbits of their lives, but they'd never truly spoken.

Meng Yao knew, for example, nearly every detail of Xichen's sister's love drama, that she was getting married in two weeks, that her and her fiancée's bachelorette parties were being organized so that each bride could have a party they actually enjoyed. Meng Yao did not know, for example, that Xichen was being teased by her sister's fiancée for her own inability to ask her cute neighbor out on a date.

As Xichen left her apartment on Saturday night, ready for a night on the town with Wei Wuxian and company, Meng Yao was locking her own door, in her regular commuting wear.

("You wear jeans to work?" Xichen had once asked her, curious.

"Oh, I change when I get there. Dancing in these would be so impractical." Her laughter was beautiful.)

As Meng Yao had turned around, she looked ready to say something, lips slightly parted. Whatever words she had been about to say stayed hidden behind them, however, as she slowly gave Xichen a once-over and, finally, looked up at her through her eyelashes and smiled. Lan Xichen had never worn anything less casual than a full suit in front of Meng Yao before; standing before her in a tank top that said "...so we're getting DRUNK" and light wash jeans felt almost more revealing than if she were standing in the hall naked.

"It must be your sister's bachelorette party tonight?" she asked, and Xichen blushed to the tips of her ears.

"Her fiancée's," she managed to say in a conversational tone of voice. "Wangji's was last night. We just had dinner, but a-Sang organized a-Xian's, and I am given to understand it will be considerably more exciting."

"I hope you have fun," Meng Yao said with another dimpled smile. Before Xichen could gather her thoughts enough to answer, Meng Yao was already gone, her wave of black silk hair flowing behind her.

***

At first, Lan Xichen thought that Wei Wuxian's solution to the problem of her and Wangji having all the same friends was perfectly fine. One bachelorette party for Wangji on Friday, which would be planned by Lan Xichen; another for Wei Wuxian on Saturday, which would be planned by Nie Huaisang.

Wangji's bachelorette party had gone swimmingly; a nice dinner, with wine for the guests and sparkling cider for the family, understated and quiet and over by eight.

Wei Wuxian's was also going well, if her and Huaisang's smiling faces were anything to judge by. Lan Xichen sipped her virgin margarita and smiled, watching her soon-to-be sister go from a sober friendliness to unmitigated, unguarded, freely-given affection as she cultivated her happiness at her upcoming wedding into a golden glow of love, pulling everyone around her into her orbit. Even Mingjue-jie and Jiang Wanyin, whose perpetual scowls were being ground down into fond smiles, were not immune.

They were entering their fourth club of the night when Huaisang, flushed pink, announced that the party had officially begun, and drug them into what had been listed on the itinerary as "dancing ;)".

There was, indeed, dancing. They were not the ones dancing.

"Wow, SangSang, do you think I could do that?" Wei Wuxian slurred out, attempting a high-kick as the girl on stage began what looked to Xichen like a arabesque penché, before wrapping her working leg around the pole and lifting the rest of her body into the air. Wei Wuxian stumbled into Jiang Wanyin, who rolled their eyes as they caught her.

Lan Xichen did not hear what a-Sang thought, but she was reasonably sure that Wei Wuxian could not, in fact, do that.

They were herded by an enthusiastic Huaisang and a member of the staff into "the bachelorette suite," which Xichen was reasonably sure by the expression on the face of the.... maître'd? was actually more commonly reserved for groups of cisgender straight men than groups of queers with four genders between them.

The decorations in the room were clearly chosen by Huaisang, consistent with the rest of the night's theming: black and scarlet and gold, with penis-shaped balloons even though neither of the brides had those, and a banner hung behind the stage with "Last Fling Before The Ring" printed in the same cursive font as their matching shirts.

A maypole with white and gold ribbons stood alone on the stage as they sat in the chairs, arranged in a U, with Wei Wuxian at the center and a-Sang and Jiang Wanyin on either side of her. Mingjue-jie and Jiang Yanli sat on either side of their siblings. Xichen thought that sitting between Mingjue, who was clearly confused, and Wen Ning, who looked as awkward as Xichen felt, would be the best way to hopefully avoid the largest part of the attention.

As the music began, their dancer walked out onto the stage, wearing a long, sleek silk robe with a flower motif, her hair held in place above her head with a matching lobster clip. She approached the center of the stage, face pointed down, and body held still.

The music began, and four counts in, she snapped her head up, and began to move.

Meng Yao.

With a snap and a flourish, her robe fell to the floor and heat rose in Xichen's face at her neighbor in skin-tight leather, twirling one of the maypole ribbons around her finger. Xichen definitely should not be seeing this. If Meng Yao wanted her to know that she worked in such a place, she would have told her. But to get up and leave in the middle of a performance, especially in such a small audience, would be the height of rudeness. If someone she knew left while she was performing a recital, it would shake her.

So she stayed and tried not to be aroused as Meng Yao drew the ribbons off the pole, delivering the first to Wei Wuxian with a teasing kiss on the cheek, to the rest of them -- finally, to her, with the barest touch of her fingers against Xichen's jaw, tilting her face up as though for a kiss and then pulling away, leaving a trail of electricity in her wake. Xichen crossed her legs and recited all 3000 rules of the Lan Academy for Girls, the periodic table of elements, all mutliples of 12. She was, unfortunately, completely unsuccessful in thinking of anything distracting once Meng Yao began to dance on the now-ribbonless maypole. Which, in retrospect, was clearly not a maypole at all.

Very fortunately for Xichen's sanity, even while drunk Wei Wuxian had no desire to do anything that might in her mind count as cheating on Wangji, and she finally connected the dots.

"SangSang," she whispered very loudly, "this is a strip club, isn't it? We should go home, SangSang-- a-Cheng! Hi! We should go home before Lan Zhan catches us, a-Cheng, we're breaking the rules and I care about this rule, a-Cheng."

Jiang Yanli, bless her heart, was on her feet and helping her giggling sister out of the club immediately, and gradually everyone else cleared out as well, until it Xichen was the only one left. She wasn't sure her legs would work when she stood up.

"I'm sorry about.... this." Xichen said to Meng Yao, as she sat primly on the edge of the stage. "I understand tipping is customary but I'm not sure...."

"Usually small bills as I dance," Meng Yao said quietly. "Don't worry about it, SangSang will make sure I get what I would have earned. We have a standing deal."

"Ah."

Awkward silence settled over them as they continued to sit in a room filled with dick-balloons.

"I am a dancer," Meng Yao said suddenly. "I didn't lie to you. I did ballet until I was 16, and I still --"

"This is dancing," Xichen said. She met Meng Yao's eyes, disregarding the blush she felt renewing itself under her skin. "Just because it isn't ballet doesn't mean it's somehow not dance." Meng Yao's eyes went wide, almost perfectly round, before she looks at the ground again.

"Would you like to see? Your friends had me for the next hour and a half, and I don't need to go out on the floor tonight. With events like this we get the rest of the night off."

Xichen nodded. "If you want to show me. I'd like that."

Meng Yao smiled slowly, and put her discarded robe on one of the chairs. She didn't turn the music back on. Instead, she stood on the stage, counted to eight, and simply moved.

She went slowly, her mastery of every muscle in her body evident as she held positions that should overbalance her, sensuously tracing over every curve and line with a delicate hand. She bent her body in ways that Xichen didn't know were possible, with the grace of an angel and a sweetly seductive smile on her face. She spun herself around the pole using only one hand to support herself.

Xichen's legs were crossed very tightly at the ankle as she reminded herself to appreciate the dance's artistic merit. It was not difficult to do so -- it was a beautiful and physically demanding thing, executed with technical precision. It was also extraordinarily sexy. Which, she supposed, added to its merit further.

Then, coming off the pole, Meng Yao smirked, and Lan Xichen's breath caught in her throat as she curtseyed, skin shiny with sweat and hair slightly mussed in its clip. As Xichen sat stunned, Meng Yao's smirk faded, and she suddenly grabbed her robe and hurriedly put it on, reaching for the door.

"Well, I hope that was a good demonstration, Lan Xichen," Meng Yao said. "I suppose I'll see you... eventually. At home."

"Wait," Xichen said, before Meng Yao could leave without somehow knowing that this didn't have to change anything, didn't have to cast them back into strangers. "I'm going to call a rideshare. You take the bus home, don't you? You can ride with me. We're going to the same place."

Meng Yao's hand paused over the doorknob. "I still have to change back into street clothes."

It wasn't a no.

"I'll wait," Xichen promised. "I'll wait for you to be ready."

They traveled in electric silence. Lan Xichen's throat was dry, and she understood now why people called this feeling "thirst," and her crush on Meng Yao seemed so heavy in the air between them that it truly was a wonder she had agreed. When they reached their apartments, Xichen could barely stand to say goodbye.

So, when she opened her mouth, goodbye was not what came out, but "Would you like some tea?"

Meng Yao smiled one of her fragile, genuine smiles and said yes.

[shannygoatgruff]

Only Fan(s) - A Thriller

Genre: Thriller

Pairing: Modern Ivar/OC

Warning: Language, sex, stalking, obsession, kidnapping, sexual assault

Rating: MA+18

Summary: Sometimes OnlyFans subscribers want a little more than internet pictures. Sometimes they want to be your ONLY fan...

Header by: @flowers-in-your-hayr​

Thanks to @xbellaxcarolinax​ for being my beta.

Disclaimer: This story will deal with some topics that might be a little uncomfortable for some people. As always, I’ll try to tackle the hard stuff as tactfully as possible.

A/N: This is a fic I started 10-years ago for another fandom. I never finished it, but I loved the concept. I have an idea of what I want to do with it - hopefully, I’ll finish it this time around.

Part i - Train Wreck 

It had taken forever to get the subwoofer out of the Challenger's trunk without damaging the cords. However, it was done with such skill and precision, it appeared a surgeon had removed it. The tricky part had been hooking the stereo back up to the factory-installed speakers after the subwoofer had been removed, and making everything look nice and neat, so the car’s owner wouldn’t be aware.

It had taken longer than usual, but it was well worth it. Whoever installed this particular unit, did a really good job. They were so meticulous with their installation, right down to the intricate wiring system – not that straight out the box shit that comes with aftermarket speaker setups. It had proven to be a tedious job, but not impossible.

No matter how daunting the task of removing the subwoofer had been, it wasn’t half as difficult as hooking it up to the old iPod without the benefit of a stereo. It had been a painstakingly slow process. One wrong splice of the cord and the mp4 player would short out. But tenacity always paid off. The result looked raggedy, with cords kept in place with electrical tape, the iPod balanced on its side, held in place between two books, and a huge metal subwoofer vibrating next to it. It was ugly, but it worked.

The volume on the iPod was cranked up to the highest level. It was so loud that the walls shook with each kick of the bass drum. There was no reason to ever use a speaker that powerful in a room this size, but the song demanded it. All good music demanded to be blasted at the highest of decibels; this song in particular. It had been playing on repeat for the past hour. One song. One constant beat. One melody, and one voice screeching over that amazing guitar riff. Listening to it on anything lower than the max was the true definition of insanity.

The people staying in the room next door disagreed because they had already done everything to get her to turn it down. They had yelled, banged on the walls, kicked her door, and even called the manager. It didn't matter. The fucking neighbors could eat a dick. Even if they called the National Guard the volume wasn’t changing. This song wasn't "noise", it was destined to be a fucking classic – in her room, if nowhere else. If it was possible to play the song any louder, she would have.

These fuckstick neighbors. They were the only ones that didn't understand how places like this worked. The rule was, there were no rules – that was the beauty of it. That's why this particular room was the best choice. It was on the second floor, around the back facing the alley instead of the highway. There was nothing else on this side of the building except the five rooms on this level, garbage dumpsters, the on ramp, and a peeling billboard. What in the hell were they expecting? If one picked a shit motel, with a shit room that offered no view, why would they think it would be quiet?

Anyone could stay in a two or three-star hotel. But, a bed-bug infested No Tell-Motel? People stayed here because they wanted to get away with whatever dirt they were trying to do. That's why these places charge by the hour and not by the night. Most people wouldn't even want to stay for the entire night. Dirt didn't take that much time to commit. For the most part, the only people who stayed in places like this only needed the space for about 20 minutes…a few hours tops, if they had a lot of stamina. It was don't ask, don't tell…don't listen, don't knock. These assholes should know that. 

Annoying ass neighbors aside, the room was comfortable. The thick smell of stale cigarette smoke clung to the air was reminiscent of home. The smoky air coupled with a heavy bassline made it feel like a rock video. The only problem with the room was that it was hotter than a crack whore's crotch.

The air-conditioning unit in the sole window did little more than blow the smoke rings further around the room. It provided a nice buzzing sound that served as background noise and as a reverb for the music. There was also a burning smell that came from the window-unit being cranked up to full blast. It had been a little hard to get used to, at first, but two packs of cigarettes later, it was no longer noticeable.

The roaches sure didn't seem to appreciate the extra heat in the room. They constantly ran in and out of the vents of the air-conditioner like they were trying to find a cooler climate. Or maybe they were just hungry. The box of half-eaten pizza on the dinette table not only provided a suitable temporary home but also a hardy meal. They gathered there, grabbing their lunchtime snacks before running off to other wall cracks to share in a meal with their friends and family.

Most people would have found the place a disgusting, germ-infested, death trap. But, Torren wasn't most people. She didn't seem to notice anything in particular about her living conditions. She had other things to focus on. She had already paid for this week, and next, so what did she care? The place had all of the essentials; electricity, toilet, running water, a bed, and a TV.

Granted, the electricity was spotty, to the point that she couldn't have her flatiron and blow dryer plugged in at the same time. The toilet was so soiled that it still hadn't been determined if there were rust stains in it, or if it just had never been cleaned…ever. The water ran brown when it rained and a cloudy gray the rest of the time. It didn't get hot either, but it did get tepid if she let it run for 10 minutes, but not hot. Not hot enough to sanitize your hands, or to take a bath in.

But, it was already hot in the room, so a cold shower wasn't so bad. Besides, the tub was indescribable. If someone told her that a family of six had been murdered, and dismembered in that tub, she wouldn't be surprised. It just had that horror movie slaughter look, and the stains to prove it.

The bed was hard and lumpy and judging from the DNA left behind from past guests and holes in the sheets, they probably hadn't ever been changed. The TV was small, but at least it was in color. Hell, the room even came with its own pets, and it was only $50 for the week! There truly wasn't anything to complain about.

Torren Sykes sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, surrounded by ripped out, stolen magazine pages and color copies of photos she’d downloaded and printed at the library. She rocked her head and shoulders in a slow sway to the beat of the song playing. Haphazardly she flipped through the pages until she found a suitable picture and smiled. Picking up the scissors, she licked her lips slowly and ferried her brow, as she started the task of cutting it out.

"Goddammit!" She yelled before slamming the paper down on the bed. Stomping angrily toward the door, she pulled it open and narrowed her eyes at the man standing there. "I swear, if you knock on this door again, I'm gonna slit your fucking throat," she cringed, narrowing her eyes and pointing the shears at the man's neck.

The motel manager was taken by surprise at the half-naked woman holding shears to his neck. Standing before him was a beautiful brunette, with dark features. She had a creamy, light coffee-colored complexion – these days it was hard to judge a person’s ethnic makeup, but if he had to venture a guess, he’d think she was bi-racial. She had perfectly shaped large, almond, brown eyes that gave off nothing but a vacant stare, and a heart-shaped face. The soft dimple in her chin, and the one just at the curve of her mouth, gave her an almost angelic look. She was considerably shorter than him, about 5'5", and well built.

She wouldn't have been considered thin; she was far too curvy for that – the term slim thick instantly sprang to mind. She had thick thighs, extremely pronounced hips, and presumably a large ass. Yet, her waist was small, and her stomach flat, and big breasts. Not too big, where one would sprain their thumb trying to hold them, but they were big enough to keep any man occupied.

The manager wondered if she had some work done to get a body like that. It wasn’t uncommon for women around her to have a little nip, tuck, and a whole lot added to try to look like a vid-hoe, these days.

She was wearing the smallest pair of underwear he'd ever seen. And what was the purpose of wearing a cut off top that stopped just under her nipples? She might as well not be wearing a shirt at all. He could see the curve of the lower half of her breasts because the shirt failed to cover the lower half of her chest. If she raised her arm any higher he would have gotten a full-on nip-slip.

She glistened with a fine sheen of sweat all over her body; her long hair clung to her cheeks and neck, with it. It was almost like her hair was beating as quickly as her pulse was. He could feel the rush of heat come out of the room, as soon as she opened the door. It was like she had just opened the door to an oven. She was hot and sweaty, yet she still wore long tube socks that came up to her knees.

If she hadn't been assaulting him with a deadly weapon, it would have looked like something he’d recently seen on Porn Hub.

He had been so taken aback that he couldn't think of anything to say to her. Instead, he took a step backward and watched as she slammed the door. The entire encounter took about 5 seconds. Long enough for her to open the door, threaten him, and slam it again in his face. He wasn't sure what he was more surprised by, how she answered the door almost naked, the temperature of her room, the level of her music, the anger in her voice, or the scissors that had been pointed just inches below his throat. The whole scene was just wrong and it scared him.

In the 20 seconds that he continued to stand in front of the closed room door, he thought about what scared him the most. It was the look in her eyes. Those beautiful almond-shaped eyes were intense. They were concentrated. They had absently stared right through him. Something about those eyes wasn't right. Had she even seen him? He would never admit it, but he hoped like hell that she hadn't. He hoped that she didn't remember what he looked like. He didn't want any trouble, and he could tell that she definitely was.

Stomping her way back to her bed, Torren resumed her aforementioned position, picked up the copied photo, and started to sway to the music again. She smiled a little taking a second to run her fingers over the image on the page before she resumed cutting. Scraps of paper fell to the bed and the floor, some even stuck to her sweaty legs.

She clutched the cut-out to her chest, before falling back on the bed. Settling on her back, she held the picture up to the light. With tenderness, she brought the piece of paper down to her lips. She kissed it...him, with such passion, before sticking her tongue out of her mouth, and letting it rest on the computer paper - where his lips were, her wet tongue instantly wetting the page and smearing the ink. Planting her feet on the bed, she lifted her waist from the mattress and started to thrust upward with the beat of the song.

Seductively, she flipped over on all fours, laying the picture down on the pillows. She whipped her hair around her head, before letting it hang over her shoulder. She scooped her neck down and began kissing the picture again. As she did, she started to grind her hips hard against the balled up blankets.

She let one hand travel down her torso, toward her panties and smirked at the picture as she did. She braced herself on her left knee and elbow, before lifting her right leg out, then up. Roughly, she took her fingers and plunged them deep inside of herself. She bit her bottom lip, hard; she could taste the coppery blood on her tongue, and when she leaned down to kiss the picture again, she managed to get a nice bloody lip print on it. She twirled her hips and moaned loudly as she pleasured herself. Her eyes never left the picture. She removed her fingers, only to trace the dampness on the image before placing them in her mouth. Her taste was incredible. It always turned her on.

She had to have him. She needed him.

She flipped over on the bed, this time grabbing a magazine cover she had torn off from one of the stacks she found in the library. This one had him on the cover.

With a sense of urgency, she smoothed the waxy page down her body, before stuffing the picture along with her hand inside her panties. She closed her eyes. She felt his tongue running over her; she felt his fingers inside of her. The pillow next to her, the one covered in taped photos of him was now on top of her to simulate his body on hers, as her hand and the magazine continued to work. She couldn't get enough of him. She would never get enough of him.

In the middle of a mind-blowing orgasm, that happened to coincide with the best guitar solo ever created, blasting from the speaker, she managed to yell one word, "IVAR!" Then she flopped back on the bed in hysterical laughter.

She straightened out the magazine cover and picked up her bloody cut-out from the pillow.

Wordlessly, she stuck them both to the wall with her juices; amongst the 50 other printouts of him that hung just over her headboard. After giving him another kiss, she finally turned down the volume on her makeshift stereo, picked up a piece of pizza from the box, shook it off, then headed into the bathroom for a cold shower.

Part ii

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[ineverlookavvay]

wedding bell blues

Set during the lost decade. Isobel's getting married and Michael is trying his best to be happy for her.

Fic prompt: The Lost Decade/ “We are a family.” - Day 4 of Michael Guerin Week 2020

Read it on Ao3

Michael was wearing a tie.  And yes, contrary to Isobel’s prediction, he both hated it and felt stupid.  He wasn’t even sure why he’d been forced into this ridiculous suit, since he wasn’t part of the wedding party, and it’s not like a tie would convince anyone that he was someone else for this one Saturday. 

Not only was he wearing a tie, but he wasn’t even late, he was actually early.  Not that it mattered, since everyone who might have cared about whether and when Michael got there was off in some dressing room.  Michael wasn’t upset that he wasn’t part of the wedding; he barely knew Noah and spending a lot of time with Max wouldn’t have been good for either of them, and besides, he wasn’t really cut out for responsibilities like that.  He was fine just being there as a normal guest, supporting Isobel and hopefully drinking his weight in free alcohol. 

He slid into an empty pew on the bride’s side of the chapel, placing his hat on the pew next to him, and taking a surreptitious drink from the flask of mixed whiskey and acetone.  He tugged ineffectively at his collar held too tightly by his tie, looking over the program he’d been handed at the door.  It was white, with a tasteful border of flowers and gold foil print.  The pews had been decorated with white ribbons and flowers, and there was a string quartet getting set up near the dais.  Michael hated everything about it.

Well, he liked the part where Isobel got to be happy.  He pretty much had to, considering he’d sacrificed any possibility of his own happiness to ensure Isobel’s.  Being here at her wedding was just like collecting on a promise, seeing it through.  

Michael watched people filter into the chapel, shifting restlessly when his ass started to protest the hard wooden seat and absently folding his program into complicated shapes.  At least he had his flask—the ceremony would have been impossible without it.  He watched Mrs. Evans and some older people who had to be her parents come in, heads held high, followed by what Michael assumed were Noah’s family, people he’d never met before.  They all sat in the front two rows, peeling back ribbons reserving those seats.  Michael’s seat hadn’t been saved—he was in the back pews with the other plebs.

He’d stayed close to the aisle, both in case he needed a quick getaway and because he wanted to make sure Isobel knew he was there, that he would never have skipped this.  Michael hadn’t been to a wedding before, but it was a lot like sitting through Sunday church services, a memory he had to consciously push aside, trying to ignore the taste of bile in his mouth.  

Isobel was the only thing that made it all okay.  She looked gorgeous, little pearls in her hair and a form-fitting dress with a long train, made of chiffon or silk or one of those other fabrics that fancy dresses were made out of.  And she was glowing, walking with Mr. Evans down the aisle looking like the very picture of a blushing bride, the version that lived in bridal magazines and Better Homes and Gardens.  She grinned through the lace of her veil when she passed Michael, and he grinned back, giving her a subtle thumbs up. 

Michael thought that if he ever got married, he wouldn’t want a fuss like this.  He wouldn’t want the falseness of religion, or the uncomfortable clothing, or the hard pews.  He would want to just be wearing his normal clothes, maybe a nicer shirt than usual; and he’d want it to be quiet—a quiet exchange of vows; and he’d want it to be outside, at night, so they could see the stars.  He could almost picture it…except there was no fucking point, was there?  Michael wasn’t “marriage material,” everyone said that, thinking he couldn’t hear, and the only person he’d ever thought about promising his time and love to was long gone. 

The rest of the chapel sat down as Isobel reached the altar, taking Noah’s hand, and Michael threw himself back to the mercy of the pew, hoping the ceremony would be short, at least.  

It was short enough, although in Michael’s opinion, it could have been shorter.  He didn’t pay that much attention, either, especially not to the droning clergyman.  He did watch when Isobel said her vows, when she held out her finger for a ring, when they kissed.  She looked happy, and that was important, and Michael was happy for her.  He didn’t openly weep, like the woman sitting in the pew next to him, but he felt his heart swell for her.

He was more than ready for it when the ceremony ended, and he could stand up from the terrible pew and put his hat back on and get out of the stuffy chapel air into the heat of the day.    Isobel’s reception was at a place just a short drive away—an old barn building transformed into a brick and treated-wood hipster-paradise, adorned with white ribbon and twinkling fairy lights and more flowers than had any right to be in the middle of the desert.  There was a patio area set up outside, too, with benches that looked off into the west, primed for photos of the sunset.  It was a little too well-manicured for Michael’s taste, not real enough to hold onto, even the beams across the ceiling were intentionally chipped, and not structural. 

Michael looked over the table seating cards quickly—he knew he wasn’t sitting with Max and the rest of the party, and Isobel and Noah had their own table, which put him at the odd man out table—the one that was all singles, people who were friends but not enough to land anywhere else.  It was fine, it was the right place for him to be seated, but Michael wished it had been different—wished he’d been able to be part of the family, to sit with them, to be part of Isobel’s joy, instead of watching it from across a huge room. 

The saving grace of it all was the free bar.  Michael waited until Isobel and Noah had come in, until he’d clapped and raised a glass to her where she could see him; and then he settled himself near the bar, sipping bourbon from a fancy glass and leaning against the wall, watching people filter in, watching hors d’oeuvres circle the room, and trying not to show how out of place he felt.  

“You look like you’re having fun,” the bartender said, after Michael came back for his fourth straight bourbon.  He was tall, with dark hair and eyes, a shirt that was at least one button too low, and a confident air that Michael liked, plus he poured Michael a little more every time.  “Date drag you here?”

Michael smiled, looking the bartender up and down—if he could manage to get laid, that would counteract some of the pain points of the day.  He scanned for a name tag.  “Nope…Nick.  I’m a good friend of the bride.”

Nick nodded, distractedly moving onto his next drink order, without taking his eyes off Michael.  “Why aren’t you up there with the rest of them?”  Michael followed the bartender’s nod towards the front of the room, where Isobel and Noah were standing in a circle of well-meaning wish-givers and family members.  

“View’s better from back here,” he said, smirking and taking another sip of his drink. 

“Oh yeah?” Nick asked, smoldering back at Michael as he ran his fingers none too discreetly around the neck of a bottle.  Yeah, this was a good plan.   

“Absolutely.”  Michael noticed people sitting down at their tables, and as content as he was picturing Nick the bartender with his pants around his ankles, he figured he shouldn’t disappear while everyone else was sitting for dinner.  “Working all night?”  Nick nodded and Michael raised his glass in salute.  “I’ll be back.”

Michael made his way obediently to the single people’s table, sitting in the only open seat, next  to a girl he surprisingly didn’t recognize as one of Isobel’s high school friends, who smiled at him pleasantly when he sat down.  It turned out he’d been a little premature in leaving the bar, since they weren’t officially getting food until they’d sat captivity listening to terrible speeches.  Michael was just glad they hadn’t let Max give one, since he’d probably spend the whole thing lecturing them about safe sex and responsible drinking and how best to file their taxes as a married couple.

“Don’t you just love weddings?” the girl next to him stage-whispered, and it took Michael a moment to realize she was talking to him. 

She looked weepy, and although at second glance she was a very attractive girl—long, black hair and an appealingly low-cut dress—he had no desire to get into an argument about how wonderful weddings were.  “Yeah, weddings are…great.”  Michael complimented himself on his restraint and took a big drink from his glass of bourbon.  

“Just like, you never know, right?  The next person you meet could be the one.”  

Michael had an acidic response on his tongue before he glanced back at her and noted the appraisingly way she was looking at him.  He smiled instead—maybe he didn’t hate everything about weddings.

It went downhill from there, though.  

Michael kept trying to catch a moment when Isobel was alone, to give her his congratulations, but she was always surrounded by her parents, or her bridesmaids, and he couldn’t throw himself to the wolves like that.  Plus, once dinner finished and everyone suddenly seemed to loosen up, Nick the bartender was too busy to sneak away, and the girl at Michael’s table was too busy dancing with some of the other single table girls to give him the time of day, although she did keep sneaking him glances.  Michael, meanwhile, had lost count of how many drinks he’d had, and was starting to wonder if he really needed to stay the entire time in order for Isobel to recognize how much of an effort he’d put in. 

After an especially annoying song choice by the mediocre band she’d hired, during which Michael was practically pushed out of Isobel’s path by an especially frantic aunt or something, Michael sighed and decided he needed some air.  

There was almost no one out on the little patio, the sun having long set, and the air grown colder.  Michael sat on one of the benches—only minimally better than a pew—and tilted his head back, staring up at the stars while his glass sweat onto his fingers.  This was better—quieter—and his mind started straying back to his own fantasy wedding, which meant he was thinking about things he really, really shouldn’t be, those specific eyes and lips and rings on fingers and—

“There you are.”

Michael spun around to see Isobel coming out through the door, on her own, holding up her skirt and smiling at him like she’d actually been looking. 

“Thought you might’ve left,”  she said, sitting on the bench beside him.  

Michael shook his head, smiling because she was smiling.  “And miss the bouquet throw?  Never.”

“It’s a toss, not a throw,” she said, wincing a little, “and you did miss it.” 

“Damn, and I was prepared to cheat and everything.” 

Isobel laughed, knocking their shoulders together.  “I’m glad you came.” 

“Of course I came, I wouldn’t miss your wedding, Iz.”  

She beamed at him, then took his glass and took a drink from it.  “So why are you sitting outside all by yourself?” 

Michael took his glass back.  He wasn’t sure how to tell Isobel that as much as he wanted to be here to support her, sitting in that room watching her with other people, her family, her friends, people who could be happy for her in the right way, with the right amount of real joy—something about that just made Michael feel wrong, and lonely, and the rawness of it all made him feel like he couldn’t quite breathe.  He didn’t know how to tell her that he would have wanted a seat saved in the chapel, that he wouldn’t ever have skipped out on this, and that he knew she hadn’t saved him a seat because she thought he might not show, and he hated that.  He didn’t know how to say that he was still on the outside, and sometimes it was just…a lot. 

He was saved the difficulty by the door swinging open loudly, letting some of the conversation and the music filter out into the night.  And, of course, it was Max holding open the door, peering out at them uncertainly.   

“Hey, Iz, mom’s looking for you, something about a family photo?”

Michael nodded bitterly, turning away from them.  Of course she was.  More family photos, and Michael could just continue to stand on the sidelines and watch them all be a happy family without him.  

“Seriously?  Come sit down before she sees me,” Isobel said, and Michael looked back at her sharply.  “Come on, you have to listen to me, I am the bride.”  She raised her eyebrows in challenge and Max gave in immediately, closing the door quietly behind him.  Isobel rolled her eyes and pushed Michael sideways on the bench, making room for Max on the other side of her. 

“Family photos are important,” Max said, ever the good son, “you’re going to want them someday.”

Isobel snorted.  “Oh, come off it.  We have like a thousand photos with mom and dad from today and I’m talking to Michael.”  Max shrugged, looking uncomfortable, but sat down dutifully on the bench next to her when she patted it.  “Besides,” she said, wrapping one arm around Max’s shoulders and putting the other on Michael’s arm, “we are a family, and I don’t have any pictures of the three of us from today yet.”

Michael swallowed, turning back towards his glass in order to avoid looking at all affected by the sentiment.  Most of the time, he thought he was annoyed by being tied down to them, but after spending the entire day watching from outside of the inner circle, and after more than a few drinks, he could admit that he wanted that—he wanted to be part of their little family, he wanted to belong somewhere.  He wanted a photo with Isobel beaming in her white dress and Max looking less like James Bond in his tux than he thought and himself, wearing a tie and feeling happier for Isobel than he would ever let her know.  Tomorrow he’d be annoyed, and worried, and want to be alone, but for now, he wanted to sit facing the desert, just the three of them.  

Max nodded, although he looked very skeptical.  “Want me to go get the photographer?”

“Nah, mom is attached to him like a magnet.  You have your phone?”

Max nodded again, looking no less skeptical even as he dutifully took out his phone.  “You really just want a selfie of the three of us?”

“Yes.”  Isobel said it like it was a given.  “Because you’re right, I will want to look back on this, on account of I look fucking great, and—”

“And I’m wearing a tie,” Michael cut in.

Isobel spread her hands demonstrably as she echoed him, “and Michael is wearing a tie.”

Max smiled, although he was clearly trying not to, and held up his phone.  “Okay, fine, everyone smile.”  

The flash was blinding, but Michael was smiling.