#i've seen “you got games on your phone” so many times that it's become like a sleeper phrase for me. i hear it or see it and i just dissolv

[front-facing-pokemon]

[bellaxgiornata]

The Devil at Your Window |4: One of the Good Ones|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word count: 4.9k

Warnings/Tags: 18+; fluff, flirting, sexual tension, light angst, pining, eventual smut, identity reveal, and lots of black suit Matty

Series Installment List & Summary

a/n: Just a smidge of angst in this one! And I've already got a rough draft written for the next part, too! This story has been stuck in my head... Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @danzer8705 @darkened-writer @keepingitlokiii @kezibear @dorothleah @sarahskywalker-amidala @1988-fiend @haruari @sleepysleepymom @marveious @sunflower-tia @fizanotfeeza

Your arm burned from the effort with which you were currently scrubbing your kitchen counter, working hard trying to remove a stubborn stain with the sponge in your hand. On the counter just behind you, your phone was playing music as you stress-cleaned. Truthfully you were too caught up in your thoughts as you'd been frantically jumping from one task to the next to have been paying much attention to what song was currently playing, though.

You'd already vigorously deep cleaned your bathroom, scrubbing your shower hard enough to make your fingers ache. Once you'd finished in there, you'd ended up in your bedroom, finally folding the laundry basket of clothes that had been sitting in the corner of your room all week. After that, you'd changed your bedsheets before bringing the dirty ones down to the laundry facility in your building to be washed. Upon returning to your apartment, you'd begun meticulously organizing your kitchen pantry before cleaning out the kitchen sink of dirty dishes. And then you'd landed on scrubbing your counters with every intention of cleaning off your stove top next.

You'd been cleaning like crazy after you'd come home from work tonight and finished dinner because you'd had a shitty day–though really it had been a shitty week. Everything had gone absolutely wrong at the office and you'd somehow managed to make a massive mistake on a big project the other day. Thankfully today you'd corrected the error, but your anxiety over the issue hadn't remotely disappeared. And of course, Eric, the most obnoxious and irritating co-worker at your workplace, had been at the top of his game of being an absolute asshole to you about the issue all week, too. You'd admittedly had far too many daydreams of throwing your coffee on him just to shut him up these past few days.

But as if that hadn't been enough, you'd found yourself becoming increasingly upset over the realization of your growing feelings for the Devil, who you hadn't actually seen since he'd appeared injured at your place just over a week ago. You were torn between believing his absence was either because he'd been recovering from his injury–which would also explain his absence in the news lately–or that he had zero interest in continuing whatever friendship you thought you'd both been developing. And because you'd gotten your period earlier today, you'd been hormonal all week. Which meant your brain had been telling you it was because of the latter reason.

But you didn't want to think about that. It was ridiculous to have a stupid crush on him. You didn't even know the man's name or what he looked like beneath the mask. You had no clue what he did for a living, if anything at all. And you'd only seen him three times now, it's not like you'd known him for months. It was quite likely he didn't feel the same despite the flirting he'd been doing. 

So that was what your brain continued to tell you this week whenever you got upset about his lack of appearances on your fire escape. That those visits hadn’t meant anything to him. You were just another person in the city he protected. His first visit had been accidental after all. And the second time was just to return the scarf he'd borrowed. The last time he had appeared had been because you'd been a convenient safe place for him to briefly stop and recover at when he'd been hurt, nothing more. 

Though trying to repeatedly rationalize that didn't make the ache in your chest disappear. It didn't stop you coming home every night from work hoping to have another surprise visit from the mysterious vigilante before you went to bed. And it certainly didn't stop you from shedding a few pathetic tears when he continued to remain absent each night. 

You'd begun to miss him. It was impossible to deny that now. And you'd worried about how he was doing with his injury, wondering if he really was alright. Which only had you wondering more about what he was capable of if he could meditate like that because–

“It's a bit early for spring cleaning, isn't it?”

Your hand abruptly paused mid-aggressive scrub of the stain that had long since been cleaned at the sound of the familiar and unexpected voice cutting through your thoughts. Eyes growing wide, you spun on your bare feet to find the Devil standing on the other side of your kitchen counter with a grin on his lips beneath that black mask.

“It's only February,” he teased. “Spring is still another few weeks away. Maybe show your counter a little mercy before you wear a hole in it.”

Hand gripping the soapy sponge tighter, you felt your heart nearly fly up into your throat in excitement. Because he'd come back . 

“You're here,” you breathed out.

“Yeah,” he replied. He gestured a gloved hand back towards the window behind himself. “You left that unlocked, so I may have just invited myself inside since you didn't seem to respond to my knocking. I hope you don't mind.”

You shook your head quickly, still surprised to see he'd actually returned. It felt like someone had loosed a multitude of butterflies in your stomach at the sight of him standing there so casually in your apartment once again. It was something you'd missed all week.

“No, that's alright,” you told him, shaking your head. “I don't mind.”

“You should really keep it locked though,” he stated. “Literally anyone could just climb in here. That's not exactly safe.”

Still trying to shake off the surprise of his visit as you took a step forward, turning off your music, a nervous laugh slipped out of you. “I think you're the only one crazy enough to climb all the way up that rickety fire escape,” you replied.

You turned, heading over towards your kitchen sink in the hopes of busying yourself with washing your hands so he wouldn't see the embarrassing grin steadily growing on your face. 

“I think you might be surprised with what the criminals will do in this city,” he countered.

“Well that's…unsettling,” you muttered, turning off the faucet and drying your hands on the nearby kitchen towel. “With the way my week has been going though I suppose it would be my luck that someone probably would climb through my window. Someone other than you, I mean.”

You set the towel back on the hook near your sink, turning around only to find the Devil had stepped around the counter and into your kitchen. He was standing a few feet away, his head tilted curiously to the side. How the hell did he always manage to move so quietly?

“You're having a bad week?” he asked. “Is that why everything smells like lemon cleaner in here and why you were scrubbing your counter so hard you couldn’t hear me knocking on the window?”

Clasping your hands together in front of yourself, you fidgeted awkwardly with your fingers. Now that your hands weren't busy with an actual task you were feeling your anxious thoughts beginning to spiral again. Especially because it was only Thursday night and you still had to go into work tomorrow and deal with Eric and everyone else when all you desperately wanted to do was crawl into bed for the duration of the weekend and pretend this week never happened. 

“What's wrong, angel?” the Devil asked softly.

You glanced up at the sound of the name he’d called you just before he left your apartment last time, watching as he took another step towards you. You sniffled lightly, trying to ignore the confusing and conflicting feelings arising inside of you at the nickname. The smile disappeared from his lips, his mouth instead pulling a bit downwards at the corners. Swallowing hard, you waved a dismissive hand at him.

“Nothing, things are good,” you lied. “I'm fine.”

The frown visibly deepened on his face before he took another step closer. “Someone who's fine doesn't generally deep clean their place on a random Thursday evening,” he pointed out. “And it seems like you've been on the verge of tears for a bit now. What's going on?”

You swallowed hard, wondering how he could’ve possibly known that when he’d only just entered your apartment. Yet another one of his mysterious little powers, you figured.

“Nothing,” you answered. “Really, I’m good. I just got into a random cleaning frenzy. It happens.”

The Devil’s head canted further to the side, his lips thinning along his face. He shook his head slowly, taking another cautious step towards you.

“You’re not fine,” he replied. “And for the record, I know when someone is lying, angel.”

You sighed, wrapping your arms around your chest and trying to ignore the way your stomach twisted nervously at that name again. Surely it was meant to be more of a joke than a term of endearment considering you always called him Devil.

“Another useful skill of yours?” you asked curiously. “Like your ability to heal?”

Briefly a smirk slid over his mouth, one you caught just before it disappeared. Your eyes narrowed suspiciously back at him.

“Something like that,” he answered. “So believe me when I say that I’m not buying the line that you’re okay. What happened?”

Eyes darting down, your nails began to pick at your sweatshirt nervously. The memory of your boss chewing you out at work the other day resurfaced in your mind, quickly followed by one of Eric’s heartless comments to you afterwards. The continual disappointment of an empty fire escape night after night before you went to bed also reared its head, tears starting to sting at your eyes at the memory of those lonely nights. Blinking rapidly, you tried to stop the tears from coming.

You did not want to cry in front of the Devil.

“Nothing,” you muttered, shrugging your shoulders. “It’s all stupid in comparison to what you’re usually dealing with anyway, so don’t worry about it.”

“Hey,” he murmured, closing the remaining distance between you and gently grabbing your shoulders, lowering his masked face into your line of sight. “It’s not a competition.”

His light, reassuring touch only had the tears welling up faster in your eyes. It had been so long since someone had touched you like that. With comfort and care. A touch that made you feel both safe and seen. And here he was doing it with such ease, like you deserved that sort of attention–and from him no less. 

It suddenly became all too much. A single tear slipped out of the corner of your eye as you gazed up at his face half-obscured by that mask, unable to blink it back before it made its way down your cheek. The Devil’s hands carefully began pulling you in towards himself barely a second later. Surprised at his response, your arms remained wrapped around yourself as his arms slowly encircled your shoulders.

He was hugging you. Comforting you.

Somehow that managed to open the floodgates to your emotions, the tears beginning to spill down your cheeks hot and wet in a continuous stream that you couldn't seem to control. Your hands gripped your sweatshirt tighter, unsure if you should hug him in return or not. Instead, you pressed your face into the thin fabric of his black shirt, attempting to hide how fast the tears were flowing from his sight.

You weren’t exactly sure why you were even crying at this point, either. Was it because of the shitty week you’d had? Because of the gentle touch and compassion coming from the masked vigilante, a touch that you hadn’t felt since you'd last been in a relationship? Was it because of the fact that him holding you like this only stirred up those confusing feelings further inside of you, making you wonder what this weird relationship with the Devil actually was? Or was it just because you were hormonal and on your period?

“I'm sorry,” you choked out.

“Don't apologize,” he replied instantly.

The smokey voice he always used had your fingers twisting tighter around your sweatshirt, your heart beating a little harder at the sound of it so soft beside your ear. You shifted, burying your face further against his chest. Though guilt quickly filled you as you cried. Because he shouldn't be comforting you, not for something so foolish. Not when there were people out there who actually needed him and all you'd had was a bad week, some out of control hormones, and a stupid crush.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. “Is there something I can do to help?”

You shook your head, begging the tears to stop falling. This was embarrassing. You didn't want him to see you like this, let alone be comforting you.

“No,” you whispered. 

You have better things to be doing with your time , you thought bitterly. I don't deserve the comfort.

Clenching your jaw, you took an abrupt step back from him. You raised an arm up, using the sleeve of your sweatshirt to aggressively wipe the dampness from your cheeks. Before you, the Devil stood with his arms still hovering in the air as if he was still holding you, seemingly confused about you withdrawing from his embrace so suddenly. There was a large wet spot from your tears soaking the front of his black shirt already.

“I'm sorry, that was embarrassing,” you muttered, still wiping at your eyes as the tears gradually slowed. “I know you don't want to be dealing with an emotional mess tonight. That's not what the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen does.”

“Who says it's not what I do?” he countered, his arms lowering back to his sides. “I'm here to help people who need it–and for the record,” he added, “crying does not make you an emotional mess. Trust me on that.”

“Well,” you began, sniffling a little, “my problems aren’t the type you can punch. And you can't exactly punch away my feelings. Or my hormones. So I think this is a little out of your usual wheelhouse.”

“Maybe so,” he agreed, “but you've helped me plenty of times now. Is it wrong for me to want to return the favor?”

So that's why he was comforting you. A sort of quid pro quo. Tit for tat. An exchange of favors, not because he'd genuinely cared about what had happened to you this week and would have offered to help anyway, but because he felt like he owed you something in return. That's what he was saying, wasn’t it? 

“I don't help you because I want anything in return,” you muttered, turning around and wiping the sleeve of your sweatshirt across your eyes once again. Afterwards, you reached up into a nearby cabinet and grabbed a clean glass from out of it. “I help you because I worry about you out there. And because I think you're one of the good ones.”

You closed the cabinet door before focusing on the faucet in front of you, filling the glass with cool water. Sniffling softly, you felt the tears beginning to slow to a stop as you tried to collect yourself. You’d cry about your misplaced feelings later when he wasn’t here. Right now you just wanted to enjoy his company and not scare him off with your tears. And maybe make sure he was doing alright himself tonight.

Once the glass was full, you turned off the faucet and inhaled a trembling breath, attempting to steel your resolve. You were not going to cry anymore tonight. 

“For what it's worth,” the Devil said from behind you, “I think you're one of the good ones.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes and shaking your head at his comment, your back still facing him. Now that sounded like a line.

“I’m serious,” he continued. “How many people would help a vigilante instead of turning him over to the police? And how many would just ignore him entirely? And here you are inviting me into your home multiple times now without question. Always offering whatever form of assistance you can when you certainly don't need to.”

Eyes dropping down to the full glass in your hands, you felt your heart flutter in your chest at his kind words. Clearing your throat, you tried to swallow the lump that had begun to form. “I think you vastly underestimate what you mean to the people in this city, Devil,” you whispered.

Gradually you turned back around, the glass of water clutched between both of your hands. His lips were once again pulled in a straight line across his face, his head faintly tilted to the side. 

“You're a symbol of hope to many in Hell’s Kitchen,” you said softly, extending the glass out towards him. “A sign that there’s still good in the world. That there are still people who care about helping those in need.”

You could see the muscles working in his cheeks, the corner of his lips twitching faintly. You wondered what expression he was making beneath the mask right now. Was he not aware of what he meant to this city?

“Here,” you said, holding the glass out further towards him. “Drink it. I’m sure you’re dehydrated.”

The Devil’s right hand flexed open and shut at his side for a moment, your eyes drawn to the movement. After a minute's hesitation you saw it raise, reaching out to carefully accept the glass of water from your own hand. He murmured a soft ‘thanks’ as he drew it up towards his lips. In silence you watched the bob of his throat as he drank almost half the glass immediately, a satisfied smile eventually landing on your face. 

“You hungry?” you asked, stepping around him and heading over to your fridge. “I have spaghetti leftover from dinner tonight. Unfortunately no garlic bread,” you grumbled, opening the door of your fridge. “Because my week was apparently so bad that I even forgot to grab garlic bread at the store.”

“Don’t worry about me, I’m fine,” he assured you.

Half bent in front of your fridge, you glanced over your shoulder, shooting him a flat look. “Are you planning to go home and eat something before you go to sleep tonight?” you asked him. “From the fridge you have apparently only stocked with beer, eggs, and sometimes orange juice?”

He hung his head in defeat, his gaze behind the mask appearing to drop to the floor. It looked like he was fighting back a grin on his face.

“Well…no,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Right,” you said, focus returning to the contents of your fridge. “So do you eat spaghetti? Because I have plenty.”

“If you’re that determined to feed me, yes,” he answered. “I do.”

Reaching into your fridge, you pulled out the container of leftovers that you’d put away earlier this evening before you’d begun meticulously stress cleaning. You closed the door, bringing the container over to your counter and setting it down before searching for a clean bowl and a fork.

“So how’s your rib doing?” you asked as you worked. “Did your doctor friend tell you it was broken? Have you somehow meditated it back to normal already with that useful ‘skill’ of yours?”

The Devil chuckled good-naturedly behind you as you began scooping some pasta into a bowl for him. Internally you thought it strange that he found that somehow funny, though that warmth of pleasure filled you at once again still being able to make him laugh.

“She's a nurse, not a doctor, and that's hard to say,” he answered. “I’d need an x-ray to know if I had actually broken it, and I can’t exactly go to a hospital because they’d surely call the authorities on me. But either way, it’s feeling better than that night I was last here. Not completely healed with my ‘skill,’ but the pain is…tolerable.”

You stopped mid-scoop of some pasta, your head turning over your shoulder towards him. Quirking a brow at him, you shot him a quizzical look. 

“The pain is ‘tolerable’?” you asked him. “So you mean to tell me you’re still going around tonight scaling buildings and jumping off fire escapes with an injury that’s not even fully healed?”

The Devil shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly, shooting you a charming smile. “Yeah,” he answered. “Something is almost always injured or hurting. But it's not like crime ever takes a night off. So usually neither do I.”

Sighing, you focused back on scooping pasta into the bowl for him. “I'm starting to worry about your sanity,” you half-joked. “You know, I've always wondered why you do what you do. I don't suppose you'd answer that truthfully, would you?”

Picking up the bowl, you stepped over towards your microwave and set it inside. Setting the timer to heat it up, you turned around and leant your back against the counter, crossing your arms over your chest as you eyed him expectantly. 

The Devil shook his head, a faint smile on his mouth. “No, not right now,” he answered. “But maybe someday I could answer that for you.”

Hugging your arms tighter around yourself, you tried to hide the thrill that shot through you at his answer. The prospect of him continuing to visit you was clearly layered in his response and you couldn't even begin to explain how that made you suddenly feel.

“Always so mysterious,” you muttered nervously, glancing down at your feet.

“Don't suppose you'd ever give me your name, would you?” he countered.

You grinned, glancing up at him from beneath your lashes as the microwave hummed behind you. “I'll tell you mine when you tell me yours, Devil,” you replied. 

“So mysterious ,” he teased back, grinning. 

You tried to bite back the smile growing on your face, laughing softly. The grin only grew wider on his face and your cheeks began to heat at the sight. You could feel your heart beating a little faster as you watched him from across the kitchen, taking in the handsome shape of his mouth and feeling the nervous churning of your stomach beginning to increase at the comfortable silence that fell over you both.

Thankfully your microwave beeped a moment later, pulling you from the moment that surely would have only resulted in you further ogling him, wondering what he looked like beneath the mask. Turning around, you opened the microwave and removed the bowl of spaghetti. You set it back onto the counter, mixing it around with a fork to make sure the entire bowl had been thoroughly heated. Satisfied that it was warm, you picked up the bowl and carried it over to the Devil. 

“You can have a seat at the table if you want,” you offered, holding the bowl out to him.

You gestured your other hand to the small circular table just outside of your kitchen. The Devil accepted the bowl of pasta from you, looking somewhat over his shoulder where you'd gestured. 

“Thank you,” he replied. 

You watched as he twirled a handful of noodles onto his fork immediately, bringing it up to his mouth before he'd even began to make his way towards your table. It was obvious he was hungry with the way he'd shoveled the bite into his mouth–just like when he'd devoured that burrito–and that satisfied smile returned to your face. Even if you'd messed up a lot of things this week, at least you'd managed to do something helpful for him. And that felt good.

You'd been about to turn around and put away the container of leftovers still sitting out on your counter when you saw him suddenly freeze, his entire body tensing. Your own body froze as you watched him chew the bite of food so slowly, your stomach sinking to the floor.

“What?” you asked cautiously, feeling self-conscious and on the verge of tears again. Had you actually somehow messed this up, too? “Is it…not good? I mean I know I'm not the best cook or anything, but I thought I was decent at making spaghetti sauce. It's not that complicated.”

The Devil swallowed the bite of spaghetti, his body still stiff as he stood there. His hand had tightened around the fork in the bowl as he remained silent, which only had your nerves growing. The feeling of being a failure once again this week was suddenly bearing down heavily on you. Was there nothing you could do right this week?

“Look, if it doesn't taste any good you don't need to eat it,” you told him, taking a step closer and reaching for the bowl. “Apparently I just can't manage anything this week. Just one of those weeks I gu–”

“This tastes exactly like the spaghetti my dad used to make,” the Devil whispered in disbelief.

Your hand hovered in the air reaching out for the bowl, your mouth hanging open at what he'd told you. That certainly hadn't been the reaction you'd expected. 

“Wh–what?” you stammered out.

The Devil pointed at the bowl of pasta with the fork in his hand, something like amazement creeping into his voice as he focused on you. When he spoke again, you'd noticed that raspy, deep voice he always used had disappeared.

“The sauce,” he told you, his words gradually picking up speed as he spoke. “It tastes exactly like the spaghetti sauce my dad used to make when I was a kid. I–I haven't tasted anything quite so similar since he passed when I was young. The likeness is incredible.”

You could feel the heavy pounding of your heart in your chest at yet another little piece of the real man beneath the mask being revealed to you. Mouth opening and closing a few times, you quickly realized you didn't know how to respond. Was he going to run away on you now that he'd let another little personal detail slip? Especially considering it looked like he was also realizing what he'd just told you and was beginning to regret it.

“I'm–I'm sorry to hear about your father,” you managed out.

The Devil continued to stare at you over the bowl of spaghetti in his hands, his lips pressing together as his mouth began to twitch. It was as if he didn't quite know what to say himself, but the longer he remained quiet, his jaw grinding back and forth, the more fearful you became that he was going to bolt back out of your window for accidentally revealing more personal information about himself to you. 

Slowly you held up your hands in front of yourself like one might do to a scared animal, hoping not to scare him further. The Devil didn't move, but his jaw visibly tensed at the gesture. 

“Look, I'm not about to tell anyone that you come here sometimes,” you told him. “And I don't go digging around on the internet trying to find out who you really are with the vague information I have, mostly because I don't have that level of motivation, if I'm being honest.” You saw the corner of his lips twitch upwards at your comment and you cautiously lowered your hands back to your sides. “I just want to help. That's all,” you continued. “And personally I worry that if I scare you off, you'll end up out there starving and with kidney damage from constantly not drinking enough water while you're out parkouring around the city.”

“You're worried about my kidneys now?” he asked, amusement in his tone. 

You shrugged lamely, shooting him a small smile. “If I say yes will you sit down and eat that spaghetti and drink some more water?” you questioned back. “Instead of jumping out of my window like a terrified cat?”

Something like an amused snort came from him as he turned, making his way towards your little kitchen table. You relaxed when you realized he wasn't going to disappear on you.

“For the record,” the Devil told you, voice muffled around a large bite of spaghetti that he'd shoveled into his mouth, “I am not a stray cat.”

“Of course not,” you agreed, picking up the glass of water he'd already finished and set onto the counter. You brought it over to your sink and began to refill it for him. “Because a cat would know better than to keep running around and making a broken rib worse. And I'm not sure how partial they are to spaghetti,” you joked. 

At the bright sound of his laughter over the sound of the running faucet, you found yourself smiling. You'd certainly missed having him here, even if you knew you were going to miss him the moment he finished that bowl of spaghetti and jumped back over your fire escape. All you could really do was enjoy the next few minutes you had with him and hope that he returned another time. 

Though deep down you sort of found yourself hoping he was more like a stray cat than he let on, because at the very least, maybe the prospect of food and water would tempt him to appear again at your window sooner rather than later. 

And that thought was steadily giving you an idea.

[mr-yuugo]

Date With A Cat Lover

[Idia Shroud X Gen!Reader] -FLUFF-

Words: 1,231

Summary: Idia goes on a date with his online friend. The freshmen find him and decide to tease him. As the reader converses with Idia's schoolmates, the reader is quick to take fondly of Grim.

You can also find this posted on AO3 and Wattpad!

Saying Idia was nervous was an understatement. He felt like he would melt onto the ground as each second passed. It was embarrassing enough just sitting awkwardly on a bench at a public park.

"So many people..." He thought as his foot anxiously tapped repeatedly on the ground. He was waiting for you in fact, so he decided to bear the nervousness and wait for you to get there.

This would be the first time you two would be meeting in person. Having met in an online game and becoming friends. You were so cute in the photos you would send him, he only hoped you were the cute person in the photos and not some catfisher.

"Now that would just be horrible..." He let out a shaky sigh as he pulled out his phone. Checking his messages to see that you texted him. "I just got here!" The message read.

Idia shrieked as he got up from the bench. Dusting off his clothes and telling himself not to act too weird. "Idia!" He heard someone call out to him. He stared at your figure coming closer to him as he looked at you in awe.

"Score! They're a total babe! Ez 10/10." Idia flashed his sharp teeth as he smiled at you. A sudden wave of confidence overcame him as he waved at you. "Y/N, I'm glad you could come."

"Mhm! Sorry for keeping you waiting." You told him as you linked your arm to his. Okay, that sudden confidence was gone. "Woah Idia! I didn't know your hair could do that!" You laughed as you smiled at his now pink hair.

...

You and Idia arrived at your desired location. When Idia found out you lived around the area he couldn't contain his excitement. Better yet the yearly fair was visiting so he immediately decided to invite you to go with him.

As you went up to the ticket booth Idia had bought your tickets. You thanked him as you promised to treat him to whatever foods he wanted to try. "Woah! Look Idia!" You told him as you pointed at one of the rollercoasters. "We should try that one!"

Idia looked at the ride you wanted to go on and gulped. "That one has a lot of swirls..."

"I know! Hahaha! Come on let's go line up!" As you lined up you both soon arrived at the front. After giving the necessary tickets to the person supervising the ride you both went to sit down.

Buckling up and lowering the bar you secure yourself in place. You laughed once more at Idia's scared expression. "Oh come on Idia it won't be that bad." The ride soon started as your cart began going up on the rails before dropping abruptly.

Idia screamed as he held onto the bar for dear life. Idia's eyes landed on your form. His screams of terror stopped as he sweat-dropped. You yourself were holding onto the bar with a serious grip. Your eyes closed as you shrieked.

After the ride, you and Idia agreed to not go on any more roller coasters. For your next ride, you decided to keep it simple and go on the teacup ride. When it began Idia was delighted when he found out you could spin the cup.

He had begun spinning the plate to make the cup rotate as you screamed at him to slow down. "W-Wait Idia-!" You gasped as you clutched onto your seat so you would not fall off.

As it ended Idia stumbled around. "I shouldn't have done that..." He said as he put a hand over his mouth.

You on the other hand laughed it off and began dragging him to a food stall. "So many options...what about the churros? That sounds delicious." Idia perked up at this. "Ah yes! I've seen videos of people getting them here they look yummy."

You nodded your head. As you looked around the park you saw a lonely bench and made Idia sit down. "You wait here alright? I'll go buy them."

"Are you sure you want to go alone?"

"Yeah I'll be fine, you just try to stop your head from spinning." Chuckling you made your way to the line. As Idia sat patiently his heart dropped when he heard a familiar voice. "Ah, Idia! How are you."

Idia had a terrified expression as he saw the main four. "Eek! What are you guys doing here!?"

Ace rolled his eyes. "Having fun, and you? I saw Ortho hanging out with some of his buddies but I didn't see you."

"This is horrible! I feel like a criminal that's just been caught." Idia scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Well, I'm just hanging out ya know?"

Yuu laughed at him. "Well, I hope you are not here alone." Duece nodded his head. "Well be more than happy to have you join us if you would like."

"Who said I was here alone?!" Idia thought as he scowled.

"Myah! I actually saw him with someone. I wasn't sure it was him but now I'm sure!" Grim said as he grinned. "Woah there! Maybe Idia is on a date!" Ace gasped as he began to laugh.

Idia's hair turned pink at the tips as he began shaking his head in disagreement. "I-im not! Who said that!?"

"It's nothing to be ashamed of Idia." Duece smiled at him. "I'm not ashamed-!" Idia's voice trailed into a whisper as he saw you walk up to him.

"Hey, Idia I'm back." You smiled at him and then at the others. "Oh hello! Are you some of Idia's friends? I'm Y/N!" The others stared in shock as Ace quickly leaned down to whisper in Idia's ear. "Okay, what did you do to bag a complete hottie."

You began making conversation with Yuu and Duece as you noticed the furry animal below you. "O..m..g! How cute!" You smiled as you bent down to pat Grim on the head.

"Hey! I'm not a pet!" In your hand, you had the paper bag filled with the churros. "Aww, you are just the sweetest thing aren't you!" Taking a churro out of the bag you gave it to him. "I guess I am..." His ears fell as he took the treat out of your hand and ate it. "So cute!" You said as you began to stand up.

You blushed as you realized the others were all staring at you. "O-oh I'm sorry..." You mumbled as you giggled. Idia simply bawled his hand as he smiled in contentment. "They are a cat lover..."

"So Y/N you here on a date with Idia?" Grim asked as he motioned to the bag to have more. You gave him another one as you nodded your head. "Well...it was never officially a date but I guess so!" You laughed as you continued to feed Grim more treats.

Soon they bid fer well as you waved at them. A pout on Idia's face as you sat down next to him. "Hm? What's wrong?" You asked him. "That was embarrassing..." He muttered.

You intertwined your hand with his. "Well, I'm glad your friends were nice about it though. Well..." Standing up you pulled Idia along too. "We should probably get back in line."

"Huh? For what?"

"The Churros, I gave them all to the cute cat."

[rpmemes-galore]

taylor swift : reputation album ... sentence starters

"Are you ready for it?"

"No one has to know."

"Call it what you want to."

"I wanna be your end game."

"Is it cool that I said all that?"

"I don't like your little games."

"I'm just gonna call you mine."

"Now all he thinks about is me."

"For you, I would cross the line."

"I let them think they saved me."

"My castle crumbled overnight."

"I'm doing better than I ever was."

"Look what you just made me do."

"But, darling, it's going to be okay."

"Gold cage, hostage to my feelings."

"All my flowers grew back as thorns."

"You should take it as a compliment."

"Touch me and you'll never be alone."

"You and me, we got big reputations."

"Reputation precedes me, in rumors."

"But what can I say? You're gorgeous."

"I don't wanna be just another ex-love."

"Don't blame me, love made me crazy."

"Stay here, honey, I don't wanna share."

"Oh, damn, never seen that color blue."

"They say, 'She's gone too far this time!'"

"I'm yours to keep and I'm yours to lose."

"You've ruined my life by not being mine."

"They fade to nothing when I look at him."

"Say my name and everything just stops."

"Just think of the fun things we could do."

"I never trust a playboy, but they love me."

"Maybe I got mine, but you'll all get yours."

"So why'd you have to rain on my parade?"

"The taste of your lips is my idea of luxury."

"I'm one call away whenever you need me."

"If a man talks shit, then I owe him nothing."

"Do the girls back home touch you like I do?"

"I don't trust nobody and nobody trusts me."

"But if he's a ghost, then I can be a phantom."

"It was the best of times, the worst of crimes."

"Knew he was a killer first time that I saw him."

"This is why we can't have nice things, darling."

"I once was poison ivy, but now, I'm your daisy."

"Only bought this dress so you could take it off."

"You're so cool, it makes me hate you so much."

"I'm a mess, but I'm the mess that you wanted."

"The truth is, it’s easier to ignore it, believe me."

"And there are no rules when you show up here."

"I made up my mind, I'm better off being alone."

"If life gets too good now, darling, it scares you."

"Even in my worst lies, you saw the truth in me."

"I don't regret it one bit 'cause he had it coming."

"Every love I've known in comparison is a failure."

"'Cause for every lie I tell them, they tell me three."

"I'm so furious at you for making me feel this way."

"Honey, I rose up from the dead, I do it all the time."

"Younger than my exes, but he acts like such a man."

"He really knows me. Which is more than they can say."

"They're burning all the witches, even if you aren't one."

"And therein lies the issue, friends don't try to trick you."

"You know I'm not a bad girl, but I do bad things with you."

"Wondered how many girls he had loved and left haunted."

"Some boys are trying too hard, he don't try at all, though."

"Your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep."

"They say I did something bad. Then why's it feel so good?"

"I don't like your perfect crime, how you laugh when you lie."

"Is it too soon to do this yet? 'Cause I know that it's delicate."

"Did you think I wouldn't hear all the things you said about me?"

"My reputation's never been worse, so you must like me for me."

"They got their pitchforks and proof, their receipts and reasons."

"This is how the world works: you gotta leave before you get left."

"I've made mistakes and made some choices, that's hard to deny."

"You asked me for a place to sleep, locked me out, and threw a feast."

"You promise people the world, because that's what they want from you."

"We can't make any promises now, can we, babe? But you can make me a drink."

"In the middle of the night, in my dreams, you should see the things we do, baby."

"Please, don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere."

"And all at once, you're all I want, I'll never let you go… King of my heart, body and soul."

"I'm sorry, the old (name) can't come to the phone right now. Why? Oh, 'cause she's dead!"

"I'll be there if you’re the toast of the town, babe. Or if you strike out and you’re crawling home."

"There I was, giving you a second chance. But you stabbed me in the back while shaking my hand."

"I've been breaking hearts a long time and toying with them older guys. Just playthings for me to use."

"And I know I make the same mistakes every time. Bridges burn, I never learn... at least I did one thing right."

[frayed-symphony]

Once upon a time I had a Tales of Symphonia OC called Reimi.

It was the early noughties. I was a teenager obsessed with 2 things - Tales of Symphonia and Full Metal Alchemist. I had seen on my favourite website at the time; DeviantART, that people would sometimes self-insert themselves into their favourite shows/games and even though I'd thought about it before, I loved these two things so much I finally decided to do the same and 'Reimi' was born.

She was my ideal version of how I looked and because I was being bullied almost every day at school, the world of Symphonia in particular was a great comfort to me. Anytime I had a particularly bad day I started to draw Reimi.

I did have one real life friend, my best friend from primary school and we'd chat on the phone every night. I convinced her to play ToS with me and the two of us fell down this rabbit hole and I made her an OC too. We called her Beatrix and she was Reimi's older sister. It was your typical 'human girls fall into fantasy world and crush on their favourite character' story. I liked Lloyd and my friend liked Kratos. We would roleplay them together and write stories for each others birthdays and Christmases. It got me through the horrible things happening at school.

In time we started to make other characters. I decided I wanted Reimi to have a summon spirit - a polar bear called Meikai who could change between human and bear form. My friend had a similar 'devil' summon, Kainashi and I started to draw them as well. (Totally stole this from Sheena but it was very fun)

The final character we designed was Harvey - he was the only one we tried to give a canonical link to Symphonia. He was the Prince of the Tethe'allan royal family and Hilda's brother. The reason you never saw him in the game, we reasoned, was because he didn't want to be a Prince and left to travel the world in secret. He runs into our heroines and becomes a part of the group. I also wanted to write some love triangle stories at that point so he has a crush on Reimi.

For a long time these characters were my whole life. They filled my brain and I would always be thinking of stories for them. The ToS characters always factored into these stories but I was too embarrassed to draw them or have anything romantic happening and that might have been because of the backlash I saw a lot of self-insert authors get. I kept my stories mostly off the internet.

But I kept drawing them as the years went on, even designing bosses and creatures for them to fight, this was one such creature - 'Malcolm' the robot. One of Rodyle's machines.

In time life got in the way. My friend and I didn't get to speak as much so the drawing motivation started to fizzle out.

I still thought and cared about these characters but there was no fresh ideas forming for them. As I got older I started to have less time for them.

This is the last drawing I ever made of them and though you might still see me draw Reimi from time to time, its been years since I drew any of the others.

I did use them for animation practise on my University course though

So that's where we are today. I had a lot of AUs for Reimi. You may have seen this potion shop picture before, it's one of my favourite ideas where Reimi is living in the slums in Meltokio, working to keep her family's store open by selling potions. It even got a Daily Deviation on deviantART! I'm sure most people didn't know it was a self-insert drawing.

Another idea I liked was Reimi being the daughter of Kvar. She's grown up in the human ranches (though largely away from their brutality) and Lloyd's group visit is a wake-up call to her that what her father and Cruxis are doing may be wrong.

I came up with way too many stories to list here.. but uh... maybe I did draw some Reimi/Lloyd art occassionally...

and thats all you're gonna see!!

Anyway I just wanted to revisit these characters since I've been doing that with my books this month. Maybe you already knew about this, maybe you didn't!! It's just a fun look into my teenage self. I am trying to draw a new outfit for Reimi now, to see how much I've improved drawing her. I hope I can post it soon.

Thanks for reading!

[adore-laur]

PITCHER’S PROMISE

— a valentine’s day addition to southpaw 💐

——

Video games have officially become the bane of Sawyer's existence. Over the edge of the porcelain bathtub, her cramped fingers rapidly click a series of buttons on her boyfriend's Game Boy console. She's in the midst of fighting an enemy because, God forbid, they're trying to destroy the ghoul realm.

If she's being honest, nothing about what's happening on the tiny, pixelated screen makes any sense to her, but she's been trying to beat this level for the past hour, and she hates that it's too addictive to put down. Harry had left it behind for her in case she got unbearably bored and resorted to picking out one of his many cartridges so she could immerse herself in a different reality. Well, that's precisely what occurred.

She hasn't seen him in nine days due to a national baseball tour he's on, and she's been awfully lonely. She lives with her parents, but most of the time, she just wants Harry's company.

However, the hole in her heart is temporarily filled whenever he calls her landline or office's fax number, depending on where she is. Still, not seeing his face except on the low-quality television in her bedroom is slowly taking a toll on her sanity.

Not only that, but it's ten o'clock at night on Valentine's Day, and she's stuck at home with no one to celebrate it with.

Sighing defeatedly, Sawyer shuts the console off in the middle of her losing battle and gently sets it on the floor beside the tub. She sinks in the lukewarm water, letting the soap bubbles tickle her chin as two candles flicker beside her. They're orange- and vanilla-scented, a trick to make it seem like summertime.

Just as she's about to shut her eyes to rest, the monophonic ringtone of her Nokia phone goes off from atop the sink. She contemplates whether she has enough energy to go grab it. No, she's too comfortable. But then again, it could be an emergency.

With a huff, she heaves herself out of the tub and sacrifices her warmth to whoever is calling. She leaves puddles in her path as she reaches the sink and picks up the ringing device. On her way back, she checks the number on the screen. The familiar ten digits instantly cause rapturous butterflies to escape in her stomach, and she eagerly holds the phone against her ear.

"Sunray," she answers, a delighted smile evident in her tone as she submerges her body in the water again. "I was getting worried you wouldn't call."

"Baby." Harry sounds relieved that she picked up, but his voice is terribly worn out due to traveling nonstop. Scratchily and with strain, he asks, "Did I wake you? How have you been sleeping?"

Sawyer cradles her burning cheek and giddily tucks her knees against her chest. "No, I'm taking a bath," she replies softly. "Harry, hi. I miss you so much. It's hard to fall asleep when you're not here to hold me."

He makes a wounded noise, something similar to a whimper. "Fuck, that's a knife to my heart. How's my girl? I miss your pretty face. Hey, guess what? I had a dream about you last night. We were giggling and making out on the beach."

"Did you wake up kissing your pillow?"

"Yeah. Wished it was you instead."

She shivers, even with the warm water engulfing her. "Soon. Only three more days until we can make that dream come true."

A desperate hum of agreement blossoms through her phone speaker. "How was work, by the way? What's the 411? Any juicy gossip making rounds in the cubicles?"

Sawyer rolls her eyes in amusement and says, "It went fine, just really boring. I've been dozing off since I got home, so I played your stupid quest game to stay awake."

"And how did that go?" Harry pries with a hint of humor.

"Awful," she grumbles, popping a soap bubble before it floats to the ceiling. "I gave up after an hour. The ghoul realm can fend for itself."

Laughing. He's laughing at her futile attempt. "Tough luck, buttercup. Not everyone has the gift of being a master ghoul slayer."

"Whatever." She steers the conversation in a different direction by mentioning, "I heard your game got canceled today in Baltimore because of the weather. Is everyone safe?"

"'Twas only a wee little storm," he reassures in a random Scottish accent for a reason unbeknownst to Sawyer. Jet-lag delirium might be the case. "I appreciate you asking, though. You're sweeter than a Georgia peach."

"I'm happy to hear that. And your flight home is on Wednesday, right?"

It's dead silent on the other line long enough for sneaking suspicion to settle in. Sawyer has to double-check the phone screen to make sure they didn't somehow disconnect by accident.

Eventually, Harry says, "Uh, slight change of plans. I may or may not be in Orlando already."

Sawyer freezes, her heart skipping a beat. "What? Right now? What are you talking about?"

"The game got rescheduled for next month, so we had the option to go home early since that was the last stop on tour."

A flicker of hope causes her lips to break into a beautiful smile. "Where are you?" she dares to ask, anxiously biting her thumbnail.

"Attica Lane, third house on the left," he says coyly. "I see a pink light coming from a window upstairs. Perhaps a lava lamp?"

She gasps and sits up like a bat out of hell, causing some water to slosh over the sides of the tub and splat onto the tiles. "As if! Are you serious?"

His gleeful, airy laugh confirms it. "Open your front door and find out. Hurry up, though. It's cold and lonely out here."

Sawyer squeals happily and hangs up, then gets out of the tub to grab a towel. She dries off her dripping body in record time, then throws on one of Harry's shirts that he gave her. It goes down to her knees. Letting her hair fall free from her rumpled bun, she lets out another squeal and bounces on the balls of her feet. She can't believe he's here in time for Valentine's Day. Granted, there are less than two hours left of the holiday, but every second with him is well spent.

After blowing out the candles and almost catching her hair on fire in the process, she races down the staircase as quickly as possible and rounds the corner toward the front door. She clumsily unlocks the deadbolt and turns the knob to open the door, a click resounding throughout the house. Her heart is pounding, and it's like she can feel his energy from the other side.

Oh, she could just about burst into tears of joy because of the sight in front of her.

Harry is casually standing there like the leading man in a rom-com, his ankles crossed and a bouquet of flowers covering his face. He's wearing an off-white button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and Tiffany blue trousers with matching suspenders clipped to them. His athletic duffel bag is slung over his shoulder, contrasting his ornate outfit.

Sawyer will worry about being severely underdressed later. She can't even think straight right now.

"You're actually here," she says in disbelief.

Her beloved boyfriend theatrically reveals his face, an open-mouthed smile greeting her. "Hi. I was going to be cheesy and throw rocks at your window, but I know that would've scared the crap out of you."

Sawyer can't help herself. She pounces forward and jumps into his arms like a flying squirrel, hooking her legs around his waist and squeezing him so close until she's inhaling his Old Spice cologne that she's missed dearly. Harry grunts and takes an unbalanced step backward from the force with which she does so, but he quickly catches her with one strong arm around her body, the other still holding the bouquet.

"Missed you so fuckin' much," he murmurs, his duffel bag sliding off his shoulder and hitting the floor with a clunk. "Do you know how miserable I was? Do you know what you do to me? To my heart?"

She pulls back and admires him with teary eyes, observing any changes that might have sprouted in the last nine days. The first thing she notices is that his nose is slightly red from standing outside her house for who knows how long. She smacks a loud kiss on it, causing it to involuntarily wrinkle.

"My boy," she sighs blissfully while planting an equal number of kisses onto his deep, visible dimples. "Happy Valentine's Day."

Harry hikes her up more so that she towers over him. "I'm here," he says, his voice sounding raspier in person. “As soon as the game got canceled, I packed my bags and flew straight here. I couldn't go any longer without seeing you."

"You didn't stop to visit your parents?"

He dumbly shakes his head with an unaware smile, appearing lost. "No..."

"Harry!" she scolds as a laugh climbs up her throat.

"Is that a problem?" he asks, his gaze completely entranced by her lips. "Hmm? What're you trying to tell me?" He steals two kisses from her, both deep and borderline bruising. "You tellin' me you don't want to make out with your boyfriend right now?"

"I didn't say that—" Another fervent kiss cuts her off abruptly, and Sawyer melts into it this time, becoming conscious of how much she missed his lips. The peach fuzz growing along his jaw and under his nose tickles her skin as she moves her mouth against his, a sign that he's been too exhausted to shave. She doesn't care if it feels like sandpaper rubbing on her freshly washed face; the softness of his lips overpowers it.

After a minute of making out like a couple of smitten teenagers, Harry finally sets her feet on the floor and presents the bouquet. "These are red camellia flowers," he explains breathlessly, licking his swollen bottom lip. "I surfed the web, and the Old Farmer's Almanac said they symbolize being a flame in someone's heart."

Sniffing the fragrant petals, Sawyer asks, "What does that even mean?"

"Dunno," he drawls sleepily. Oh gosh. She's worried his next blink will have him tipping over and falling asleep on her doorstep. "Sounds right, though, doesn't it?"

"Coming from your mouth, I suppose it does." She clasps her hands on his cheeks and stands on her tiptoes to nonverbally thank him with a gracious kiss. He lazily smiles into it before Sawyer giddily tugs him inside the house and toward the cozy ambiance of her bedroom. "Speaking of flowers," she continues distractedly, still dizzy from making out, "I also got you some."

Sawyer goes to the far side of her room to grab the mason jar on her windowsill, which is stuffed full of stems with an abundance of tiny white blossoms. She sets the bouquet of camellia flowers in its place. When she spins around, she comes face-to-face with Harry, who's pretending he didn't just get caught looking over her shoulder.

"Hi," he whispers, innocently tapping his foot on the carpet.

She internally melts when she notices his tired eyes. "Do you want to go to bed? This can wait until tomorrow."

He shakes his head, albeit letting out a ferocious yawn. "It's our first Valentine's Day as a couple. Don't wanna waste it by zonking out."

"Okay. Well, here." She nervously thrusts forward the jar. "These are baby's breath. They, um, represent everlasting love. I know it's stupid, but—"

"Sawyer Alejandra, are these for me?" he interrupts teasingly.

She could have gotten him a classic bouquet of roses or an elegant arrangement of tulips. Yet when the nice lady behind the counter told her the meaning behind the flower with a delicacy that rivaled Harry's, the hidden romantic side of her won.

"Hand-picked specifically for you," Sawyer says quietly, hoping the moonlight shining through the window doesn't accentuate the blush staining her cheeks. "Someone was selling flowers downtown at the Plant Street Market, and I couldn't resist."

Harry smoothly grabs her hand and pulls her in for a suffocating hug, being careful of the flowers between their bodies. "Wait, did you say they represent everlasting love?" he mumbles curiously.

"Maybe."

"What's that all about, honeybee? Can't get enough of my sweetness?"

She releases herself from his trap of love before she tackles him out of sheer adoration. "Go change into something more comfortable. I need to brush my teeth."

Once that's done and Harry is in his pajamas, which consist of a retro graphic tee and a white pair of boxers (as well as his prescription tortoiseshell glasses he doesn't wear enough), Sawyer scoots over on her twin bed to make room for him. She's working on saving money for a bigger bed since they both have fallen off too many times whenever they have sleepovers.

As the electric fan on her nightstand hums lowly, they sit against the headboard and look at each other. It's neither awkward nor a mystery as to why they're doing it. It's simply a moment where Sawyer soaks her sunray in, realizing that maybe absence really does make the heart grow fonder. And in that moment, she can feel something cosmic break through the silence. A shrouded love that went unspoken for years is now center stage and glowing magnificently.

Nothing glows brighter than when the stars align.

Harry makes the first move by taking her hand in his. "I have something else for you," he says, swallowing and shifting closer to her. "It's sort of a Valentine's Day gift mixed with an early six-month anniversary gift."

Another gift? Doesn't he know his presence alone is enough for her?

Sawyer's eyes dance around his figure, noticing his timid body language. "You're making me nervous."

He gives her a handsome smile and pertly kisses her knuckles. "Good kind or bad kind?"

"It depends on the gift."

While tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, he tells her, "Check under your pillow."

She pulls back and makes a face at him. "When did you put something there?"

"It's always been there, silly goose."

"Yeah, right." Sawyer reaches under her pillow and moves her hand around until it hits something solid. She grasps the unknown object, pulls it out, and then opens her palm. What lies there is a black ring box.

"Sawyer," Harry starts after clearing his throat, still holding her hand, "I miss you all the time. When I'm thousands of miles away, I call just to hear your sweet voice. When I can't sleep at night, I think about you until I dream about you. Even when you're right beside me, and I'm smothering you with affection, I still can't seem to get enough."

Her eyes widen in unforeseen panic. "Are you proposing right now? Harry, I don't think I'm—"

"Not yet, baby," he says with a quiet laugh. He nods his head toward the box in her hand. "Take a look."

Sawyer shivers at his weighted statement that he spoke like a light breeze. She waits until her goosebumps go away, then gently lifts the top of the box to reveal a beautiful gold ring resembling the top half of the sun.

"This... gosh, this is stunning!" She looks at him, mouth agape. "I love it. Thank you so much."

Harry plucks it out of the silky cushion and slides the band on her ring finger. It fits perfectly, the aureate metal complementing her tan skin.

"For when it's dreary in Orlando and your sunray can't be here with you."

Sawyer admires it for a little longer and then gives him a big hug, which he reciprocates with an even bigger hug. "I love you," she says into his neck. “You're the absolute sweetest."

"Love you forever." He pulls away and gives her a gentle noogie. "It's also, like, a promise ring, if you're comfortable calling it that. It's just that I love making you happy. I swear, making you smile and laugh is my favorite thing to do, and I... Sawyer, I want to do that for as long as you'll let me." He lets a tender kiss linger on her lips before vulnerably murmuring, "Please let me."

She cradles his face like it's made of glass and nods firmly. "I'll let you. I promise."

Harry holds his pinky out, and Sawyer hooks hers around it without a second thought. "Can I tell you another thing?" he asks, using their interlocked pinkies to push his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

"Anything."

His eyes pinch shut. "I get scared whenever I have to leave you for a long time. I get this weird feeling in my belly."

She tilts her head to the side. "How come?"

One corner of his mouth downturns, and it shatters her heart. Shrugging meekly, he mutters, "Because I don't want you to forget about me."

She stares at him with cloaked bewilderment. He really doesn't know how often he crosses her mind or how often he's made her feel like the only girl in the world. Maybe it's her fault for not telling him enough. Either way, it's appalling that a boy like him can't see how remarkable he is. She would do anything to experience life through his eyes.

"Harry," Sawyer says with the utmost sincerity, "how could I ever forget about you? When I see the sun, my first thought is you."

His eyebrows raise at her candidness. "Wow. Have you ever considered becoming a romance novelist?"

"I'm serious," she says, fidgeting with his long fingers. "Don't deflect, okay? Let me love you with my words."

"I'm sorry." Apologetic lips press against her forehead for two seconds. "Sorry. I'm just so scared of getting this wrong. You're the best thing to ever happen to me, and I'd never forgive myself if I screwed it up."

"You do everything right." Is it really not obvious? "Just listen to me for a moment. I feel like I don't compliment you enough."

Harry blinks sluggishly and works his way down the bed until they're both lying down, facing each other in close proximity. "I'm all ears. If I fall asleep, it's only because your voice is like a lullaby."

Sawyer feels her fatigue wash over her like an ocean tide under the moonlight. "You are so beautiful," she tells him, the dim glow from her lava lamp making his facial features appear softer. "I love how your lips are the same color as the bubblegum you always chew. They taste like it too." She inhales and shifts her head on the pillow to get a better look at her boyfriend. "I also love your eyes. The crinkles around them when you're happy make me swoon. And don't even get me started on your dimples."

"Stop, baby." Harry buries his face in her pillow and lets out an embarrassed whine.

"And I love your nose so much. Did you know it moves when you talk? Isn't that something?"

"Hate you right now," he grumbles.

"Look at me." She pushes his head until it tilts back. "What I love most is your heart. I'd live there if I could."

"You already do. Moved in the summer of '87."

Sawyer giggles for some reason or another. It's probably giddiness; she's too sleepy to make sense of anything. Harry tries to stifle his laughter, but it comes out in infectious bursts. Breathy and raspy, the sound could undoubtedly open the gates of heaven.

There's a stretch of comfortable silence before his eyebrows dip in thought. "Hey, would you ever want to live with me? Like, actually?"

"Would I—" She briefly pauses, air leaving her lungs in an astounded exhale. "Would I ever live with you? Of course. Yes, absolutely."

Sawyer had fantasized about it even before Cupid struck her with his gold-tipped arrow. Visions of waking up slowly beside Harry in a much bigger bed to sprawl out on, sunrise snuggles and klutzy kisses passing the time before rumbling stomachs disrupt their bliss. Admiring him from her place on the kitchen countertop, watching him flip pancakes while he's shirtless and humming along to the radio. Staying up until midnight creeps around, consuming outlandish game shows on the television and throwing popcorn into each other's mouths. Lying on the backyard hammock in the summer, sticky popsicle lips cooling sweaty skin. Dancing in the driveway during a rainstorm, feeling like the only two people who exist solely for each other.

Soulmate. That's the word.

Harry rubs at his eyes with a shy smile, seemingly having drifted off into a reverie about it too. "Okay. Can we do that soon? I mean, whenever you're ready. But soon, please. I want permanent sleepovers." He's quiet for a few seconds before languidly adding, "I love the smell of your house. If I could bottle it as a cologne, I'd wear it 24/7."

Sawyer scratches his scalp. "You need to sleep. You're so jet-lagged right now."

"Sleep is for the bleak," he mumbles, his lips barely moving from being smushed against the pillow. "Wait... that's not right. Is it weak?" He pokes her side like a needy child. "Sawyer, how does that phrase go again?"

"Put your beams away, sunray. Let the moon have her moment."

He shakes his head stubbornly. "Tell me about your day. What's the scoop? Where did you go? Who did you talk to?"

"Shush, your voice needs rest," she says gently, pulling some of his hair up in a ponytail. “It sounds like you ate a bowl of gravel."

Making a noise of protest, he further insists, "But I wanna talk to you."

Every delayed movement and drawled speech of his is becoming more prominent. Maybe talking to him is the most efficient way to get him to doze off. Plus, it's tough to say no when he's in a state of such endearing drowsiness.

"Fine. You get one question to ask me."

Harry's lips slowly tug up in a smile. "Oh, are you an oracle now?" he teases, accidentally knocking his bony knee against her shin when he shifts his legs. "Oopsie. Sorry."

Sawyer whimpers from the fleeting pain before pulling the blanket over both of their bodies. "Is that your question?"

"No, give me a second to think of a good one," he replies with a pout. After a moment of serious pondering, he asks, "When did you first realize you were in love with me?"

It's an unexpectedly profound question that comes from somewhere deep and locked away in his heart. Sawyer was ready to receive an odd question about conspiracy theories or the existence of aliens—not one that elicits an answer she couldn't possibly form into a coherent sentence.

"I'm not sure if there was a specific moment," Sawyer says, tracing Harry's cheekbone with her thumb. "It happened gradually, I think. I obviously thought you were attractive from the get-go, but I fell in love with your personality once I got to know it better. You're one hell of a charmer."

Harry's eyes close, yet he still has enough energy to confess, "I fell for you so fast. Did you know that? God, I was crazy about you. I still am, but all those years of being too cowardly to admit my feelings were like a volcano waiting to erupt. Then that perfect night in September"—he makes an explosion noise with his mouth—"made my heart overflow with red-hot love lava. Hey, just like your lava lamp. If it wasn't pink, that is."

This is what happens when he's on the verge of sleep. He talks and talks until his sentences jumble together, and bizarre similes are somewhere mixed in between. She's concerned he won't have a working voice in the morning.

"Sunray."

"Hmm?"

Sawyer takes off his glasses and folds them before setting them on her nightstand. "Let's go on a date tomorrow where we can talk about it all we want. The sooner we go to sleep, the faster we can wake up."

Harry tangles his legs with hers, tucking her into his warm body. "Yay," he whispers excitedly. "Can we go to Tinker Field and make out under the bleachers? Or in the dugout? Whichever you prefer, I don't mind."

"At least take me out to dinner first," she quips.

The joke flies right over his head as he slips further into unconsciousness. "Sure, we can do that. There's that new Mexican restaurant on Orange Avenue. I want to try their queso fritos. Maybe we can make some for breakfast instead and have a cooking day or something."

She desperately wishes she could continue the conversation, but the heat radiating from his body is putting her under a sleep spell. "Mm-hmm. Goodnight."

Harry inhales deeply with a stretch, then wraps her tightly in his arms. "Sweet dreams, Valentine."

A kiss from the sun seals onto her skin, promising lasting love for as long as she lets him.

Infinity is what she chooses.

——

[pleasantglitterflower]

Brazilian holidays (part II)

Part I

ANNA'S POV

February 11, 2024, Las Vegas

I'm walking with the kids to the Bosa family's box, where we'll watch the game with them. I warmly greet them all, and I hug Lauren, Nick's girlfriend, tightly.

- I'm glad you came, dear, and these two princes, are you going to support Uncle Nick a lot? - the woman asks, tickling the twins, who laugh 

- Yesssss - they shout excitedly 

- Why isn't dad playing with Uncle Nick? -Samuel questions 

- Because daddy and daddy team are losers baby - I say, Lauren scolds me with her eyes

- Sammy, in sports there are victories and defeats, only twice will they reach the final, unfortunately your dad's team was defeated and couldn't win, just like mom, sometimes she wins and loses games, isn't that true? - Lauren asks the boy, who agrees 

- So, even with defeats, it doesn't mean that mom and dad play football, it's not easy, just like other sports, someone loses and someone wins, it's life. - The woman finishes

The twins quickly become distracted by the chocolate cake, while Lauren goes back to questioning me.

- How long are you going to stay this defensive, Anna? You know very well that it is not healthy for boys to grow up in a hostile environment where their parents are always fighting. You're already divorced, you need to move on.

- Lauren, you don't understand, that idiot Joseph was very ungrateful to me, and what's worse, he was jealous of me. I slept with the enemy all these years.

- Anna, you know that's not true, I've never seen a man as in love with you as Joe was, how many games did he come to support you? He practically left training and spent hours on the plane to go to Australia to watch the World Cup final, how dare you say that?

- Lauren doesn't start, you were manipulated by Nick's opinions. Do you realize that every move in my career was based on shitty Joe? How many proposals have I turned down just to not leave his side? I transferred to a Louisiana team just to be close to him at LSU, I got a master's degree at LSU just because of him, and then the guy who was bothered by me started getting more attention in the media asked for a divorce? He's an envious shit

Lauren shakes her head no and the warm-up for the game begins. After so much yelling, grumbling and drinking, I'm heading back to the hotel with the boys. Unfortunately, the 49ers lost, but the coaching staff not knowing the overtime rule is bad news, right? I was so focused on the game that I didn't even pick up my cell phone during that time, when I unlock the screen I'm surprised by the millions of notifications and I go to my Instagram, and what I see makes my head rush. Just Joe and fucking Adriana Lima kissing at carnival.

This week he would be the one to stay with the boys, but he asked me to stay with them because he was going on a trip, and that's why he had canceled his commitments to pre-super bowl events. But now I'm seeing it with my own eyes, he's dating this bitch, and he's living their promiscuous life far away and exempting himself from the responsibilities of a father. He's doing this to provoke me, that's all he can do. If there's one person I hate most in this world, it's Adriana Lima. First: she only uses the name of Brazil when it is convenient for her, unlike Gisele for example, she has never done anything to help the country in any way and never takes a stance on the difficult times the country is going through, she almost never goes to there and she still does that nonsense of pretending to accent as if she sometimes forgot some words in Portuguese. I came to the US when I was 13, and even though I've lived here for a long time, my Portuguese remains intact and Joshua and Samuel are already fluent in the language. This bitch shouldn't even speak Portuguese to her children and wants to convey an image that she really loves the country. But what really freaked me out was when this liar was named FIFA global ambassador, what the fuck? What history does this woman have in sport, what has she done for women's football to win this position? I was completely against it at the time, I made a long video denouncing the decision, and at the time Joe didn't agree and fought with me because of the video, I think he had already been having an affair with this slut since that time. The worst thing is ingratitude, Joe forgot that, when he was in trouble, I supported him and believed in him until the end, and for a long time, I was financially responsible for our life together. I met Joe in our first year of high school, and at 17, I started playing professional football, and for a beginner, my salary wasn't bad, quite the opposite, which beginner starts earning 5 thousand dollars in any job? In addition to my talent, what has always made my income high are my sponsorship contracts, brands fight to have me represent their brand, it's no wonder that I'm the richest female football player in the world and I'm the only woman to be on the list of highest paid athletes in the world. In the USA the dynamics are very different, athletes go to university, play for university teams, then comes the draft and only then do they begin their professional lives. In other words, I was the one who was financially responsible in our first years of relationship. I went with Joe to Ohio State, even though I already had a job, I insisted on getting a degree, because acquiring knowledge is not a big deal. When Joe was frustrated about never being chosen as OS's starting quarterback, I was there for him, telling him that better days would come, that everything would work out. I encouraged him to go to LSU to transfer, and there he made history. Our marriage was perfect, we had two wonderful children, our careers were thriving, until he started to not accept very well the fact that I gained more popularity, even more so after I became world champion with Brazil in the Women's World Cup, being the best player and top scorer in the competition, while he lived in astral hell with his injury. I always did everything to help him, I took him to churches and even looked for exorcist priests and witches to free him from these injuries, I know that I was a faithful wife, unfortunately he didn't know how to value it and started to feel for me one of the worst feelings he had ever had. a human being can have: envy.

I did everything to save our marriage, he didn't want to know and destroyed our entire story. We practically don't see each other, when the boys go to Joe's house, it's my ex-in-laws who pick them up at my house and bring them back, my feelings today for Joseph are disgust and hate, and knowing that he's with that bitch Adriana's is making me mad. They'll just see what I'm going to do.

JOE’S POV

Damn, it feels like I'm daydreaming. Adriana and I started dating during Carnival, now everyone knows about us, I saw that we were in third place in the trending topics on X, behind only the Super Bowl and Taylor Swift, that's very surreal. Unfortunately, our mini vacation in Salvador came to an end, and we would need to return to our routines, mainly to speed up my recovery from the hand injury, but this wonderful moment in the Brazilian summer will be unforgettable for me. My wonderful girlfriend and I arrived from the trip with the same excitement and ended the night in the best way, making love and the only sounds we heard were our hearts and our moans.

We were sleeping soundly until the cell phone started ringing very loudly, I woke up very drowsy and saw that it was Sam calling me.

- What do you want, Sam? Why are you calling me at this time?

- Dude, have you ever looked at Instagram?

- No, Adriana and I came back from our trip yesterday and we went to sleep, I didn't even look at my cell phone 

- If I were you, I would look at Anna's post now

- Anna? Damn, what did this woman do, can you tell me about it?

- Dude, see with your own eyes, but I'm already saying that a third world war is on the way

- Fuck, I can already imagine it - I punch the pillow hard, making Adriana wake up - thanks Sam, I'll call you later 

- It'll be resolved then bro and then call me, but I just wanted to end by thanking the gods that I'm glad I'm not you, because you have a lot of crazy women in your path, I'm glad I'm not the quarterback - laughs in the other side of the line

- Fuck you, idiot - I hang up and go see what that crazy ex-wife of mine has done

- What happened dear? - Adriana asks me

- Sam called me saying that Anna made some crazy post on Instagram, I'm going to look at it now

- I'm sure she must have spoken very badly about me too 

-Dri, you don't know her like I do, when Anna doesn't get something she wants, she makes everything and everyone hell

I went to Anna's profile to see the video, and as she spoke I felt a great mix of sensations: cardiac arrhythmia, nausea, anger, hatred, I felt tears involuntarily running down my face and it seemed that, at any moment I I would faint. Adriana felt my despair and hugged me very tightly. When did Anna, my first girlfriend, the one I thought would be the only woman in my life, that sweet girl who captured my heart in high school, the one who became the mother of my children, turn into such a cruel and bitter person?

In her video, Anna said that our marriage was toxic, that I was jealous of her career, accused me of committing mental manipulation against her, said that I cheated on her and even implied that I had already physically attacked her, and even made accusations serious issues involving my upbringing with our children, accusing me of being negligent when the twins came to my house, saying that I didn't feed them properly and left them dirty, so much so that once she had to take Samuel to the doctor because he had diaper rash, in addition to say that I don't pay child support, but the most serious thing she says is about me taking call girls to my house while the boys were there, talking about me is fine, but don't talk about my children. She still makes a point of speaking badly about Adriana, calling her old, fat, a liar, suggesting that she and I met while I was still married to her. Everything was a lie, and I had proof against those lies. Anna simply cannot accept the end of our marriage, so she devised a cruelly refined plan to try to harm my career and reputation, and the worst thing is that her video has already had an effect, I keep being bombarded with death threats and insults from the public, I am blinded by anger and I pick up a vase of flowers near the bed dresser and throw it towards the door, seeing it break into pieces

- Joe calm down - Adriana screams crying

- How can she do this to me Adriana? What did I do to make her hate me so much? - I say crying - she forgets that we have two children together, it's our eternal bond, I just want her to move on with her life in peace

- Joe, let's solve this, calm down my love, you're very nervous, I'll get you a glass of water.                                           NARRATOR’S POV

After calming down a little, Joe scheduled an urgent meeting with his manager and his lawyers to decide how to proceed with Anna's false accusations. The quarterback also requested the support of the Bengals' legal team, which publicly demonstrated support for the player. When Anna and Joe's divorce was finalized, the Brazilian woman frequently posted insults to her ex-husband, a situation that became a joke on social media because she hadn't gotten over the separation, however the video of her making these serious accusations shook the world of sport, especially because issues of violence against women and children are being increasingly discussed by society, and Anna knows very well that in these accusations, the public tends to side with the woman. Anna was blinded by hatred and made these accusations with the intention of harming and ending Joe's career, she is not stupid, she knows the power of her image and her influence in the public, quickly gaining the support of public figures and of fans.

However, the reality is that Anna also moved on with another relationship, but she was so angry with Joe, that she decided that she would do everything possible to make his life a living hell and that his life is plunged into ostracism. Anna started dating someone who was also involved in an intense legal battle with her ex, their trial was one of the most publicized in the history of the world, her name is Amber Heard. Yes, Anna and Amber started a relationship less than a month after Anna and Joe officially divorced. They met after Anna's game in the national championship, and the attraction between the two was mutual, they both have many interests in common: they are crazy about power, money, they are extremely ambitious and they go to great lengths to get what they want.  

    Amber Heard and Johnny Depp were mutually toxic towards each other, this was proven in the trial, however, Amber's irresponsibility in making certain accusations against Depp is undeniable, which were later proven to be untrue, which ended up having an impact on the image and in Johnny's career, a different situation from Anna and Joe's marriage, which was peaceful and calm, of course there are always arguments, but nothing serious ever happened between them, Joe was always very respectful towards her and she knows that, but the dissatisfaction with the divorce is so big that she decided she wouldn't leave him alone, and her involvement with Amber intensified this feeling of revenge for her ex.

ADRIANA’S POV

 Joe and I were having a few weeks of peace after all that circus that Anna put on, but we were very firm that we weren't going to give in to her crazy things. We filed a lawsuit against her against slander and defamation and Joe is trying to obtain sole custody of the twins, because she has already demonstrated that she does not have any emotional balance to deal with the frustrations, he is already tired of all this chaos that she has caused in her life from him. We were having dinner in LA, when I heard a voice that made me shiver with fear.

  - Look who's here, the perfect couple - Anna claps ironically, next to her is Amber Heard, I just can't believe it

- What do you want Anna? Because you take so much pleasure in making our lives hell, leave us the fuck alone- Joe screams

- Lower your tone to talk to her, you little shit - Amber hugs Anna sideways

- Don't get involved, darling - I tell Amber 

- Guys, look, Joe Burrow and Adriana Lima are homophobic, are they your idols? - Anna shouts, attracting the attention of other customers 

- Anna shut up! You've already crossed the line - Joe pulls her by the arm

- Let go of me, asshole - Anna freaks out and drops our entire dinner on the floor 

- I hate you ! I fucking hate you guys Joe you did me so bad why did you do this to me? - Anna screams crying, being hugged by Amber - and you - she points at me - you're nothing but an old slut, die you shits, die - Anna continues screaming 

Security quickly appears and takes Anna and Amber out of there. Joe goes to the restaurant manager and apologizes, pledging to cover the damage that Anna caused. The video of the fight was already on the internet, the scandal was already brewing. Anna and Amber's relationship shocked everyone, and both began to receive several attacks and insults. Despite everything, I don't wish anyone harm and I am completely against attacks on someone's sexuality, everyone loves who they want.

The restaurant fight accelerated the process of unilateral custody of the twins for Joe, now Anna could only see the boys under the supervision of a social worker, in addition to paying compensation to Joe and me for moral damages, money that was donated to the Joe Burrow Foundation. Joe and I got married after 2 years of dating, in a paradisiacal ceremony in Hawaii, and a year later we welcomed Melissa, a beautiful and healthy baby, she has my eyes, but the rest, she is a copy full of Joe. I would never have imagined that I would find love again in a trivial photo shoot, we went through many adversities, we faced prejudice against our age difference and with our love and our determination, we won together, because together we are stronger.

[mcflymemes]

MURDER, SHE WROTE PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the television show

suppose you tell me what happened here last night.

i'm looking for motive.

back home, we have a saying. flowers that bloom too quickly are fair game for a late frost.

i don't want to alarm you, but something very sinister is going on here.

all right. we come to an understanding, or one of us doesn't leave here alive.

there are three things you can never have enough of in life: chocolate, friends, and the theatre.

a good guest is like halley's comet. seen and enjoyed seldom and briefly.

you can never nudge the moral compass far from its true north without losing something vital.

i've gotta talk to you.

half the country had reason to kill him.

they do say a new experience broadens the mind.

it's a job requirement.

lie down, dear. lie down. it's a dream, that's all.

that is a marvelously interesting recipe.

send me a copy of the book when it's finished?

you always do, don't you?

you must do quite well.

it's hard to know yourself.

were we ever that innocent?

uh, there's just one slight problem.

there will be two house seats waiting for you the next time you're in town.

in our business... you never know.

i was bored out of my mind.

you are trouble.

now you wait right here.

would you do me the honor of dining with me this evening?

time for you to get back to work.

out for some early morning air?

it's hard to know yourself, let alone another person.

not funny, friend.

funny thing about having your name in lights. when the power fails, you learn a lot about yourself and your "friends."

three more paragraphs and i can go to bed.

the party tonight? we're coming as our favorite fictional character.

i doubt that any of us despised him enough to kill him.

that's what you're all thinking, isn't it?

what's wrong with this phone?

who ever heard of framing someone with the wrong gun?

at least... i don't think i did.

well, how about a toast for later?

how soon can you get down here?

i don't know. i haven't made up my mind yet.

is that you?

look, it's an interesting puzzle. i'll give it a try.

i've got the name of a very good lawyer.

they've told me absolutely nothing about you.

i'm so sorry. i should have told you.

you haven't got a thing to wear.

you have my word on it.

i do believe you're offering me a job.

don't you go to the movies?

you've been seeing too many stephen king movies.

rudeness does not become you.

people do seem to enjoy it.

just as i suspected. when under stress, the english always head for the teapot.

i'm not used to being refused.

i haven't read any of them.

permit me the pleasure of educating you.

television is your business, not mine.

i don't usually give advice, but in this case, i say... go for it.

you must be a real book lover!

how good of you to come.

is there anything else you need?

they asked if maybe you wouldn't mind bending the truth just a little.

yeah, that's nice... but no thanks.

hey, isn't that something.

that isn't what i meant at all.

there's not much to tell.

now i may be wrong... but frankly, i doubt it.

we didn't have much in common.

i'm sorry honey, but we're just dying in here.

help is on the way!

i can be very persuasive.

how about a pair of pants?

i sure know how to pick 'em, don't i?

how could i refuse?

why don't you take some advice?

i haven't eaten a thing since breakfast.

slander can be an expensive indulgence.

[dopaminestarvedsim]

Thanks for the tag, @ethicaltreatmentofcowplants!

What's your Resolution for your Simblr?

First of all, to be very honest, I just want to keep doing this! I've had so many lil side hobbies end up in the ADHD hobby hopping graveyard, but this has been so fun for me and I've already seen my building get better. Something about having some community (hi, mutuals! thanks for interacting! you give me motivation!) to share my creations with keeps me excited about trying to get better at building - which would be my other resolution, I think. Building and exploring challenges & rotational gameplay.

What do you want from the Sims Franchise?

[Confession: The Sims 4 is the first Sims game I've ever played. I actually never played video games as an adult (beyond the random testris/solitaire on my phone) until the pandemic hit when I got a switch to play ACNH and my brother-in-law told me if I liked that I needed to play The Sims. And it's been ridiculous since then, to the point that I have all the freaking DLC and everything. 🤦🏼‍♀️ With that being said, I feel so new to the Sims community, that I've never been very critical about the game. Most of the time, I find the glitches hilarious (see my last post with the infant spider arms from hell) and I don't have anything to compare the gameplay to that would make me feel disappointed. I can DEFINITELY see the criticisms and agree with them, but I guess I'm more easily able to take the game for what it is and mod the shit out of it to play how I want to be able to play. And since I didn't play the older games, I don't spend much time pining for other elements that are missing in the Sims 4. I just don't know what I'm missing. There's also still SO MUCH I haven't even played with in the DLC I've already bought.]

I do think fairies would be fucking cool though. 🧚🏼‍♀️

And it would be even cooler if my sims didn't get burnt out on their second days of work. Especially when they're in a career that matches their skills and interests. Like tf? We need some realistic tuning to some of these gameplay mechanics, for sure.

Oh, oh, and I really hope they continue to collaborate with Simmers. I think that's really cool, because they know what the average Sims player wants more than anybody.

Any other New Years Resolutions?

First and foremost, my focus is to keep my nervous system better regulated. But I also want to get outside in the sunshine and move my body more. I've been so sick the past few years that I've become very deconditioned, so the goal is to very carefully start to build my strength back up. 🥲

I also want to get to the point where I'm able to save money again. Specifically, I would like to get to the point where I can afford to start a separate savings "pocket" in my business account to save for EMDR training!

TAGGING: feel free to play along if ya wanna, @acidheaddd, @d4isywhims, @simstrashkingdom

[lingshanhermit]

Ling Shan Hermit: The Game of April Fool's Day

We've all had this experience. When we were very young, we would linger outside the toy counter. I still remember how I felt looking at the Transformers toys through the old-fashioned wooden glass counter. Back then, I believed that if I had the toys inside the counter, I would have happiness. I would become content and live a happy and joyful life forever. I've even seen some kids rolling on the ground to get the toy they wanted until their helpless fathers finally bought it for them and they burst into laughter. Of course, that child wasn't me, I would not adopt such a Kim Jong-un-style approach.

I obtained the toy I wanted in another way. My father told me that if I could come to see him with the top score in the final exam in my class, I could get the thing in the counter. I used this smart approach to get what I wanted. However, soon, I fell in love with Tom and Jerry at 6:30 pm. Every day, I would sit there on time waiting for it to start, and the toy that I once fantasized about disappeared without a trace.

When we grew a little older, our goals changed again. We started to want other things. I remember the children around us all had a dream, which was to go to Beijing. Beijing was the center of the world in our hearts at that time, and anyone who could go there would win everyone's envy.

When we got a little older, our pursuits changed again. What you wanted at that time might be Nike shoes, attention from girls, or a smile from the girl you liked.

When I got even older, I began to pin my happiness on finding those famous but hard-to-buy books. I would note down the book titles and search for them in different bookstores. I naively believed that those books would bring me happiness. However, in reality, many books disappointed me after reading. Some books were given up by me just after a few pages.

When you start working, you begin to want to earn a lot of money, want your own car, your own house, and a beautiful girlfriend. We believe that with all these, you would want nothing else in life, you would be happy. But in fact, when you have all these, you won't be satisfied. A few years after your beautiful girlfriend becomes your wife, you might be figuring out how to have a secret lover without breaking up your current family.

We always want to rely on external things to bring us happiness. We believe that those things can make us happy, but if you really ask yourself whether they make you happy, you might not be certain. It's risky to let your happiness depend on those external things.

I even heard that the Japanese are trying to create a happiness pill. It's said that in the near future, we could obtain eternal happiness and eliminate all troubles just by taking this pill. But so far, I haven't heard that this experiment has been successful. Perhaps this is just an April Fool's joke played by the Japanese.

For us, we have always been chasing the April Fool's pill. We believe that we will be eternally happy as long as we get certain things. We keep taking and keep being disappointed. Even if you get everything you want, your happiness won't last long. You'll soon be looking for the next target.

Sometimes, that target is a BMW, at other times, it's traveling around the world, or winning a million-dollar lottery. At other times, it's simply buying a book you've been waiting for a long time, a piece of clothing, or a new romance.

From a Buddhist perspective, if you try to use external things to bring you comfort and joy, you will ultimately only reap failure. Buddhism doesn't think we can obtain inner peace and joy through external things, just like you can't put out a fire with oil. Those things might temporarily distract your attention, but soon, you'll return to your original state. They bring you more expectations and also more chances for pain.

We've tried one April Fool's pill after another. We change jobs, hairstyles, husbands, lipsticks, phones, new prayer beads, new gurus, new friends. We go to the gym, to the community garden, to short trips in the suburbs of Beijing. At different stages of life, we have different pills. In fact, they are just the same kind of pill with different colors. Some are just made into shapes you've never seen before, making you think that this new pill will be different from the past. In the end, all these are nothing but April Fool's pills. Believing that they can bring you peace and joy is like believing that drinking paint can quench your thirst. Many people never tire of this, they become busy because of these, they become exhausted, they always expect the next one to be better, but the next one might be worse. This is how our life goes by.

If you want to solve the problem of the heart, if you want to achieve peace and joy, you must look inward. The method of trying to gain peace and joy through external changes is considered heresy in Buddhism. It's just an April Fool's joke played by ignorance, and we always fall for it.

First published on July 1, 2008.

Copyright Notice：All copyrights of Ling Shan Hermit's articles in Simplified and Traditional Chinese, English, and other languages belong to the natural person who owns "Ling Shan Hermit". Please respect copyright. Publishers, media, or individuals (including but not limited to internet media, websites, personal spaces, Weibo, WeChat public accounts, print media) must obtain authorization from Ling Shan Hermit before use. No modifications to the articles are allowed (including: author's name, title, main text content, and punctuation marks). We reserve all legal rights.

灵山居士：愚人节的游戏

[purplesurveys]

1806

Are you tired? Are you taking this survey because you can’t sleep?  Not very tired at all even if it's past midnight. I finally feel the calm that's been evading me for a while because 1) I have a long weekend, and 2) I can also finally stop fooling myself about resigning 'soon,' because I did it already a week ago :)

Do you have something important to do?  Not right now but I'll be doing a lot of job hunting in the next few weeks! Also tomorrow morning I'll be heading out to get my car checked because the handbrake icon has been lighting up for a while now and I need to know what's up with that lol.

Do you like Jalapeno Cheetos?  It tastes okay but I'm generally not a fan of packed snacks.

Do you wish you had a new phone?  No but I need to start taking care of my current phone, cos I learned today that the battery capacity left on it is at 77% which is apparently already horrible haha. I'm not in any rush to replace it at least until a year or two from now as it's still a fairly new phone, so it's just a matter of watching out for how much I use it going forward.

Name one thing you ate today?  Instant laksa.

Do you like 80’s music? 60’s music? 90’s music?  I have songs I like from each decade but none of them stand out for me when it comes to music in general.

Do you find rap music annoying? Rap music, and any genre for that matter, is super broad though. There are albums I like but then there are those songs that can get superficial about drugs and sex and have a lot of autotune that just makes me go egh.

What song is stuck in your head?  I'm Fine by BTS because it was the last song I played on Rhythm Hive before closing the game earlier today lol.

Have you ever been to Germany? Never been.

Do you drink coffee in the mornings? I need to, otherwise I'd feel super disoriented and not be able to get as focused at work.

Do you become a fan of lots of things on Facebook?  Not anymore, but I remember how huge that was before. People made pages out of anything and everyone would just be fans of them.

What time do you go to bed on school/work nights? Around midnight or a little past.

Have you ever seen a therapist?  I've never had a session with one, actually. Even though there were many times in the past where I know I should've.

Do you get in trouble at school often?  No. I got scolded once for talking during a class in Grade 4 and from there made it a point to never disrupt again haha.

Do you watch videos on YouTube?  All the time. Even if I don't watch a video per se, I like having YouTube on as background noise/visuals and keep it playing all day long.

Name a song that makes you happy.  These days, Paramore's Escape Route has been giving me all the happy vibes.

Name a song that makes you want to dance. Home by BTS.

Name a song that brings back memories.  Fireflies by Owl City.

Does the song above bring back good or bad memories?  A little bit of both, but mostly good.

What decade do you think is the best musically?  I'd be the worst person to ask this as I never really was an adventurous listener. I also feel like each decade has their own styles and charms when it comes to music so as far as 'musically best' I'd find it hard to tell.

Do you take a long time to get ready in the mornings?  I need around 30-45 minutes to prep before work. That includes taking a shower, making my bed, cleaning my room, playing with the dogs for a few minutes, and making coffee.

Do you wear a lot of makeup?  Does BB cream count? That's really the only thing I apply, and foundation. But yeah in general, the answer is no.

Have you ever written poetry or fiction?  I've dabbled in both but never enjoyed it. I was always one for non-fiction writing.

Do you know how to read music?  Nope. We had drills in music class where we had to read notes and such, but I never retained those and if you quizzed me right now I'd pretty much be clueless.

Do you regularly use a blow dryer?  I don't.

When was the last time you went to church?  Three Sundays ago. The last two I missed because I watched a public Royal Rumble watch party, then had a work event to oversee.

Would you date someone who was a different religion than you?  I wouldn't date anyone who's closely tied to their religion.

What is your best subject in school?  History.

Name something you do nearly everyday.  Use a laptop.

Do you take surveys a lot?  Than the average person, absolutely. Within the community...not nearly as much as I used to. I usually have time to check in only on the weekends now.

Have you ever had sushi?  Yes, it's one of my favorite foods. I literally had sushi at least once every week in January hahaha.

[laesas]

Hi dear! For the ask game maybe 🧠 and 💭?

🧠 What’s an idea you have that you can’t quite call a WIP yet?

🌸 Kimhanahaki 🌸 - KimChay + Hanahaki disease (flowers growing in the chest caused by unrequited love) this has spent the last few weeks pinging around my little brain.

It's a Chay POV fic where a few years after canon he's mostly moved on. He's gotten to the point where he can hear a WIK song on the radio and think about it almost fondly. He's not planning on becoming Kim's best friend but he can be civil with him and he understands why Kim did what he did to protect his brothers at the very least. Everything is fine until he gets dragged to some event where he stumbles into a back room and finds Kim collapsed on the floor coughing up flowers. At first Chay is caught by the fact this this is incredibly unfair, especially as Kim is the one that hurt him, but he eventually becomes determined to help because he feels responsible. Kim (predictably) wants no involvement in this plan and wants Chay to stay away. Kim is managing fine on his own. He's getting treatments, it's all managable, he just has to live with it. Chay convinces him to let him help by threatening to tell Tankhun lol. Chay is convinced that more distance won't help and realistically, it's been 2-3 years and Kim is apparently still in love with some teenage, pre-mafia version of Chay that doesnt exist anymore. If he can get that idea through Kim's head, maybe there's a chance he'll fall out of love and that the flowers will stop. Cue Kim and Chay developing a tentative friendship, Kim learning to lean on the people he trusts and a KimChay slowly falling (back) in love montage.

I have so so much more on this haha - The other day I got a leeetle bit tipsy and overexcited and accidentally pitched the entire thing to various little gay creatures that live in my phone. When I predicted 'at least 20k' for breathing room I got told 'at least 40k' which is! A LOT!! Maybe too much for lil ol me (a very very new writer) I'm torn because I love the idea and I feel like if I post the *ENTIRE* outline and all the plot points here, there will be absolutely ZERO chance of me writing it because *spoilers!*. BUT if the chance of me writing it is zero anyway, maybe I should just type up the full outline and hit post?! It might spark joy for someone haha

ANYWAY! that's Kimhanahaki! 🌸

💭 What is a headcanon you have about your own work?

OOH! - So this never makes it into the KimBig fic but I have so many headcanons about Kim's resentment of Big and how that came to be. My idea is that Kim used to be incredibly close with Kinn in their childhood. Tankhun was off doing much more imprtant heir related things and Kinn was left to dote on Kim.

Big was brought to the household at around the exact same time that Kinn became the heir (I've seen some fics where Big's was orphaned when his father (a bodyguard) was killed during Taknhun's kidnapping). Big moves in, determined to follow in his father's footsteps, and as Kinn's agemate he can convincingly go where other bodyguards can't. He's also a massive support for Kinn emotionally as while Tankhun is still alive, Kinn has still 'lost' his older brother in a sense.

Between all his new responsibilities and gaining Big as his new shadow, the now-teenage Kinn's relationship with a still very young Kim takes a hit. Kim is too young and too emotionally immature to fill the space that Big fits into, and as Kinn starts leaving him behind he ends up resenting Big for it.

Thanks so so much for asking lovely!! <3

✨📝 Writers Ask Game 📝✨

💌Send here!💌

[commander-diomika]

I started a dreamwidth journal. The point of it was that I wanted to explore my voice and thoughts without writing for an audience, inspired by things that Chuck Tingle has written about how masking his genuine voice caused him a lot of anguish over the years. I will cross post the occasional entry here because some people might find it interesting or helpful. This here's an entry I made whilst making a start on reading Unmasking Autism by Devon Price, a book my psych recommended to me.

Perhaps the sore wrist is a sign. I don't exactly believe in fate but I do want there to be an order, a reason for things, or to arrange things for myself into a cohesive narrative. So perhaps I will take this time that I am forcibly removed from some of my self soothing behaviors, viddy games, fixations, and take the opportunity to get real uncomfy with it.

I picked up the Unmasking Autism book over a month ago, read a few pages and snapped it shut, unable to move forward. I'm fucking wallowing through my feelings of injustice, temper tantruming inside and demanding why me? Why did this happen to me? Why was i diagnosed late? Why couldn't people have seen this sooner? Why am I suffering though feeling so fucking misunderstood when the information about autism is not new, its not mysterious. I'm fucking textbook in so many ways.

Picking Unmasking back up I keep having the desire to post to facebook, to send it to my partners to tell my sisters, my dad, to scream from the roof tops LOOK.! This is me! This is how I am! Why don't people understand that? Why can't they make space for that without me having to ask or explain it?

The best way through is taking those parts that reverb like a booming gong inside me and write about them here. (and also talk about them with people, but one step at a time) It will be slow going but that frenzied wail inside of me at certain passages, the one that makes me want to snap the book shut and fling it across the room, needs to GO somewhere, otherwise it will simply vibrate the walls of my being until the mortar holding me together comes completely unglued.

For many masked autistic people, repetitive behavior is something that must remain hidden. If you chew your fingers a lot or keep humming the same 3 note tune to yourself, people will notice and mock you for it. I don't even know what feels good to me. I can't even remember a time when I got to indulge these stimming behaviors freely, without judgement or a filter. I'm constantly policing myself, an ever present awareness of how other people see me, adjusting and modulating for their comfort. Magaret atwood constant observer patriachy plus other shit on top. and I viewed this as a success. Being as "normal" as I am felt like winning. But what am I really getting out of it? No one is really celebrating my stoicism because nobody knows I'm doing it. (I talked about this with my psych.)

We find socially acceptable ways to get the energy out... like playing with our phone. God, as if half the reason I'm dealing with these wrist issues aren't that I'm unable to go moments without looking at my phone, scolling, texting, holding. Constantly easing that boiler pressure inside of me. Elevated risk of eating disorders, insecure attachment, substance abuse and there's that fucking wail again. It was out of my control it was out of my control I was out of control I was always going to be at risk for becoming an addict but maybe if I'd just been better smarter stronger, the "right" kind of disabled or ND person maybe I can forgive myself for being statistically average but I have to be exceptional I must be the best always I have to WIN at having autism it's ok I've got autism but I'm one of the good ones, it's not that bad and suddenly I realise i'm gently rocking back and forth as I feel whatever it is I'm feeling. 

God, I want to just forgive myself for all of it.

That's like a page and a half of the book. Slow going indeed.

[desolateice]

HELLO my dearest favourite writer! I heard you were sick, so get well soon <3

Can I ask how you write so much in such a small time? Do you have a schedule to keep you in check, or do you just write as soon as motivation springs? I have wanted to write something for the longest time, I really wanted to write a long story but for I've never been able to do it consistently. Do you plan your stories or is it a more "go with the flow thing"? Or a mix of both :0

Apologies for the amount of questions, and take your time with answering!! I just wanted to learn more about writing and I figured I'd ask you!!

Hello anon!

I seem to be on the mend, thank you for your well wishes! I was definitely under the weather for about a little over a week.

So this got away from me. 😅 It’s massive, there’s mild spoilers for fics as I talk about writing them below this cut and also again...the entirety of it is massive. Thank you for asking anon, happy writing and best of luck on your long story. 💖

I do not recommend what I do. I…do almost nothing else. 😅 Mr. Miyagi would be so disappointed in me. There's like no life balance at the moment. During the pandemic I've become a bit of a hermit, more than I normally was/am and so I threw myself into writing. Pretty much any time I have free time and I’m not working or doing chores, I'm writing.

It is a 0/10 do not recommend. That week I was out sick was going to be my attempt at being social again to sort of re-balance and well that failed because instead I had to stay in my room. You don't want to know the amount of tasks, even creative projects, I'm currently avoiding by burying deeper into fic writing.

Like even when I'm not writing, if I'm doing something that doesn't require my brain whether it's baking or cleaning, I'm daydreaming the story. Or showering. Part of why I take long showers is to like de-stress but I'm also trying to figure out plot holes and trying to solve them and usually I do. 😅I cannot recommend a good shower or bath more. I don't know what it is about them.

I would say when I was younger I'd spend my entire breaks writing and in between classes I was writing, and then I started a blog where I reviewed stuff and I'd read that those style blogs did better if you had a consistent posting schedule. So I'd do a lot of work, cram out as many blog posts in a day as I could and then schedule them and I think that habit I instilled in myself from blogging just sort of became a wildfire. I think that mixed with a pretty good word per minute typing is how I crank out so much so fast. I blame my dad, when I was little he told me learning to type was important and so I got to sit in front of the family computer and just write and write and write and play typing games. He also had an old school type writer and I was allowed to play with that too. When I'm in the zone I'm cruising along because of that, though I misspell a lot and I’ve learned to go back and fix that later, or hope to catch it later. My biggest one is teh instead of the. But I've also been to writing conferences and a lot of interviews with writers and that schedule you ask about is always something they talk about.

Writers with full time jobs will try and find a time in their schedule that works for them to write, even if it's a short period of time. Writers with kids will get up early or stay up late to write when their kids have gone to bed. It's really what works best for you. When are you most creative? When does your mind run wild with a story idea?

One of the recent interviews I watched was with Naomi Hirahara, she said she did the Pomodoro method. A Pomodoro is a tomato timer, you might've seen one in kitchen, their kind of cute. But what she does is she calls a friend and they both set a timer for 15 minutes and then write, no distractions. No looking stuff up, no checking social media or your phone, nothing. No self editing or going back to fix things. Just writing as much as you can.

Because you're rushing, because you're being timed, and you've got a friend keeping you accountable you kind of don't think about the words or if they're good or bad you just write and get it out and onto the page. And then they share their word count and just cheer each other on.

It’s also called sprinting. I didn’t know about it until I joined Discord and joined in on some sprints with a sprinting bot and other writers and it can be a lot of fun because you’re working on your own thing but together and there’s comradely and you’re just cheering each other on.

And I think it's important to occasionally write like that. I put brackets for stuff I have to skip over or research more later. [like this] so that I know to come back to it later, or if I'm struggling with a part and know I can skip ahead I'll do something like [Johnny and Daniel go to the beach and try balancing on the poles(?)] and then skip to the part that I have in my head. And then when I have more time I go back and read that note and then fill in that spot, research and fill in the blanks. And if I'm stuck with a spot I'm writing I try and think about what's needed. Sometimes I can fill in what I'd expect to be an entire chapter with a line, or sometimes I just let the characters talk, or I throw in another, or I go back.

Sometimes there's something wrong a couple paragraphs above which is why I'm stuck. Or, I swap fics. Work on a different one for a bit. Semifreddo exists because I got stuck on "Cherry Cordial". I was like hmm I'm stuck, let's go look at this other prompt oh hey idea, ran with it, finished a draft of it and realized oh, solved the issue I was having with "Cherry Cordial". Schedule or inspiration: Sometimes it's both. I save writing after everyone goes to bed and then I let it eat into my sleep, do not recommend, especially because generally I need 9 hours to function and I love to sleep.

Or I write a lot on the weekends when I don't have plans.

Sometimes I start to fall asleep. With Root Beer Floats and Green Tea I would stay up late trying to write as much as possible because I knew it was going to be long and because I tried to do a chapter a day. I’d also get up early and write before I had work. 

So once the posting caught up with me I'd try to write as much as I could when I could at night so I could read it over the next day to publish it and I'd read it over during my lunch break so that I could publish it before dinner and...my sleep suffered.

Now when I get that level of tired I try to go to bed. Because it's not healthy. It was a fun challenge and I honestly needed a distraction from life, but it wasn't sustainable. I will say though that when I'm tired like that sometimes I'll scribble down the skeleton of the idea so that when I have energy I can come back to it, then go to bed after the thought is written down. That balance is important. Like okay, on Saturday I cleaned. I was feeling a bit better and needed to clean and disinfect and I thought this should take just a little bit of time and then I can write. And it took all day. I was so mad and it was kind of a bummer to put away all my Halloween stuff, especially all the baking stuff I didn’t get around to using because I was sick. But I’m sitting here now and it’s so neat and organized and it feels so much better and I’m glad I did it. Even if I lost that time I meant to write. My space needed it, I needed it for my mental health and it was a good thing to do for future me. And I need to work on that more because I kind of feel like a feral cat or something and don’t want to leave and go out but then I do, I go out and meet a friend for a catch up at a cafe, or go to high tea or go to my local library or just spend all day with friends and I feel better. Which again, is exactly why I don’t recommend my style or schedule because oof, my balance and alignment is out of whack and I’m still trying to figure it out. I do think it’s important to give yourself time to write, to find that time, even if it’s 15 minutes once a week. Right now it’s Nanowrimo (National Writing Month, though it’s international) And people challenge themselves to crank out a novel in a month by writing daily. The fun of it is that there’s an official website and there are meetings and a sense of community.

There might be stuff happening near you, and if not there’s plenty of stuff online. I do want to warn you that you can be your hardest critic, especially with a schedule and to not get too upset if you miss a day in your schedule or a week.

Life happens, what’s important is that you enjoy it and have fun and to get back up, take care of yourself and try again. The more you do it, the easier it’ll get. I’m going to share one of their author pep talks with you. This one is from Audrey Niffenegger.

Dear Novelist,

I am sitting at my desk, staring at my computer screen, contemplating National Novel Writing Month with admiration and horror. Admiration for those of you who threw yourselves into writing your novels with furious devotion and a passionate determination to write 1666.66 words per day, and horror at the thought of doing this myself.

I’m a very slow writer. Slow works for me. I have all the bad habits my fellow writers warn you not to fall into: I procrastinate. I write a bit and wander off to think it over and come back two weeks later. I have no schedule, no regular habits, no fetishes, no daily word quota. I incubate ideas for years and once I start to work on them I can spend more years happily researching esoteric bits and bobs that may not even end up in the novel. I am terribly caffeine dependent. I edit while I write.

Surely you don’t do any of that stuff, or you’d be doomed to slowness and would not excel at this National Novel Writing Month thing. My first novel took me four and a half years to write; the second took seven years, though that was because I fell so in love with the research (I was working as a volunteer tour guide at Highgate Cemetery in London) that I had a hard time stopping so I could finish the book. I once spent fourteen years working on a graphic novel.

Why do I let this happen? Because it’s fun. Now that you have created your fictional people and the world they live in, you have probably discovered that they are terrific company and that they are all living in your brain. Suddenly you have a party in your head (a la that old Talking Heads song) and it is hard to make that party happen any faster than it wants to happen. And when the party is finally over, you will feel bereft and alone. So why not slow down and have the maximum experience?

I once studied painting with Ed Paschke, who invited me and my classmates to visit his studio. He was working on six paintings simultaneously. We asked him why, and he replied that he could finish one painting a week or six paintings in six weeks. He preferred to take longer because more things might happen to him in those six weeks, he might have more ideas about any one of the six paintings. He liked to take it slow.

National Novel Writing Month was a chance to jolt your story onto the page, to use the magic of a deadline to whap out your novel. Now that it is December, I hope you will kick back, have a cup of coffee, reread your 50,000 words, ponder a bit, and then… go for a walk. And on that walk I hope your novel will unclench itself in your brain and let you begin the long, slow, delightful work of rewriting it.

With very best wishes for the health of your novel,

Audrey Niffenegger

The reason why I share this is because it’s lovely and because she a bit the opposite of me. She writes slowly, takes her time, and she loves it.

One true piece of writing advice is that everyone does it differently, so you have to take the advice that works for you and figure out your own path.

It might be fixing a schedule, it might be writing every time inspiration strikes and writing like that line in one of the Hamilton songs (”How do you write like you’re running out of time?”) which I fear sometimes is me 😅, or you might just write when you have time. It’s what people do. They write before their kids get up, or after they go to bed, or they write on their train commute, or they give themselves an hour that is devoted only to writing. I took quite a few years off from writing fic, from writing my own stories, but I never stopped writing. I journaled, I wrote poems, I wrote blog posts and I read.

Reading is so important and figuring out why it is can help. I had so many classes try to make me read Moby Dick and I managed to avoid reading it by just reading chapters that we talked about and nothing else, but the point was to understand the way Herman Melville described things and the voice he used.

I had to read the Sermon over and over again and hated it. 😅 It’s so...convoluted. It didn’t work for me, but then one day I didn’t have a lot of options of things to read because I was somewhere where I could get my hands on English books easily but classics are generally free online and I read it and you know what? I enjoyed it and it’s because it starts with the “there was only one bed” trope. But it’s still not one I particularly want to go back to and I got it. I got why I was made to read it so many times. On the other hand for long books I’ve read two massive ‘classic’ books. Ulysses and The Count of Monte Cristo.

 Ulysses is great for studying different styles. Each chapter is a parody of a different style. However it’s hard to follow. You can’t just pick it up and float along with the story. It’s full of ye olde memes and pop culture references and all sorts of stuff that James Joyce put in that I just didn’t get. I had to read it with like three different guides and I still hated it at the end, but I respect the different styles of every chapter and the mechanics of the book as well as the books history itself as a banned book that no one would publish for it’s crude content. Meanwhile, The Count of Monte Cristo is one of my all time favorite books. The way the Alexandre Dumas planned out his story and layer and laid out such a tale of revenge is honestly just my jam. The only other long form story I love in such a way that pulls this plot layering off that I’ve found is One Piece by Eiichiro Oda. (I’m no longer caught up because I tend to let the arcs finish before I pick them it up again and I’ve let several years worth of arcs build up) But reading is important, you learn so much from reading. Different styles, different ways to write and you absorb so much subconsciously. I’ve been told I need to read The Song of Achilles because it’s a style opposite of mine. It’s succinct and apparently the grammar and the way it’s told would do me some good. 😅 But parody is also a great exercise. Short stories are good place to start. Kafka for example, The Metamorphosis has been studied, torn apart by English classes and writers, and parodied over and over again. It’s not my favorite but that’s because to me reading Kafka is like trying to run through quicksand. But his ability to write the nightmare that is bureaucracy and real life, oof, add to that the idea that you wake up as a bug and are still being treated the same and still have to figure out how to get out of bed and get to work? That hits in a really just poignant and a depressing kind of pessimistic way. 

The reason I enjoy writing fic is because there’s a sense of community that is somewhat already built in. When you write your own stuff you’ve got to seek that out, because writing is a relatively lonely hobby. There’s a reason sewing circles and book clubs exist. Because there’s something comforting in knowing you’re not alone. Writing classes can be fun, libraries usually have writing clubs, it can be scary, because writing can be such a personal experience, but I mention it because you never know what feedback on your writing will give you and what advice you might get when you get stuck. Plus they usually give you writing exercises which are a great way to warm up. Which honestly is one of the reasons I love the allvalley100. Being given a prompt and a word limit is a great warm up and it’s a good exercise since I tend to write so much generally. I mean look at this. 😅 I didn’t mean for this to get so long and I’m not done yet... So challenging myself to just 100 words is great for me to exercise my writing muscles. It’s why I also love the Halloween prompts, because I can essentially look at them and think okay what of these sparks my interest? Aliens? I love those sci-fy stories like The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, the TV shows like The Neighbors, the early seasons of 3rd Rock from the Sun, and 3Below. I know what it’s like to move to another country where the language isn’t my native one. And then I just had fun with it. A lot of fun, because I hadn’t played with a sub-genre I enjoy so much which are the alien tries to understand what it’s like to live on earth and ends up making great points about culture and life. 

That is one where I just went with the flow. I had an idea of where I wanted to go, I mean the goal is always romance, so I kind of know where I’m going, but I like jumping from stepping stone to stepping stone to get there. And I definitely made mistakes and then had to go back and figure them out. Like Daniel’s heart beats in the first chapter and I belatedly after having so much fun with language realized the “lore” of the story and the alien culture and then realized whoops...his heart already beat once, do I go back and fix that? It’d already been published, so I just had to figure it out, how to fit that mistake into the story.

I also totally get nervous before I post things. I write and then I’m like ahhhh, and there have been times where I write a new story or start something and think oh no one is going to like this but me. But I’m working on that. Because it shouldn’t matter. As long as I’m enjoying it and entertaining myself it doesn’t matter. I think the first chapter of Root Beer Floats and Green Tea I had it in Ao3 and I had to like force myself to hit the post button and had squeezed my eyes shut and then like ran away from my computer because I was writing something that was for me. I was entertaining myself and didn’t know if anyone else would like it. I almost didn’t. I started it for myself and was like I don’t have to share this, but then I decided, screw it, I’m going to post it. But I still ran away from my computer and got so nervous.

Usually in my head I have a vague idea of what I want to happen, like in the start of Root Beer Floats and Green Tea I knew I wanted to go through the movies because I wanted the whole point to be a ripple effect, by making one change Johnny changed not just his future, but everyone else’s. So I was telling myself the big climatic fight from TKK2 over and over again and it kept changing while I was writing the first arc and slowly making my way there. Originally I kept it the same as the film but put Johnny in the audience, and then realized he’d never forgive Chozen if he threatened Kumiko and tried to kill Daniel, and that Johnny wasn’t the type of person to just sit in the audience, so I had to move him, I had to change the story. Because I wanted to keep that friendship, that crush and not destroy everything. Because in my mind Johnny was fuming from the audience, comforting Yukie but murderous and holding back because Mr. Miyagi wasn’t panicking and he believed in Daniel and I realized that it just didn’t work.

He had to be a part of it. The whole point of Root Beer Floats and Green Tea is that actions and fixing things changes everything and I had to figure out Chozen better and why, if I wanted them to get along so I could pull Chozen into that third movie as well, I had to keep them friends. I had to bridge a gap that the original plot of TKK2 and the friendship I had for all of them in my mind just didn’t match. So I was toying with the future plot while writing the first arc. There were so many showers where I told myself that fight over and over again until I finally figured out the way I wanted it to go. 😅 I tend to think up where I want something to go, and there’s a scene I want to get to and then I work on the steps it takes to get there. If it’s too far away I will write down a quick list of everything to get there. Like I have done that with Buku Buku Cha because I know where I want it to go and what I want to happen though sometimes I change the route just a bit, but I knew I’d set it aside for all the Halloween prompts and run out of time to work on it so I have a list of everything so I won’t forget. And when I was writing the final arc of Root Beer Floats and Green Tea I listed all the plot points I wanted to hit before I ended the story, and those ended up, for the most part, becoming chapters because the entire thing got away from me.

So I suppose it’s a bit of both. For Root Beer Floats and Green Tea I knew kind of how I wanted it to end. I knew the scene I wanted, to see how everything had changed, all the people who loved them and were a part of their lives still through Daniel’s eyes and what Johnny decided to do, the thing that made him actually happy and that was how I’d kind of wanted it to end from the beginning though I hadn’t decided what Johnny would do at the start. But I wanted to pull everyone in, because I kind of viewed Cobra Kai as lonely. That they’d let go of all these people in their lives for so long, and were just starting to build their communities thirty or so plus years later. And I thought, if we make one change at the beginning the ripple effect could be massive, a moment of mutual kindness that turns into love, a chance to be kind to one another and listen, it might be bumpy, but it could improve everyone’s lives. By letting Mr. Miyagi interact with Johnny, by giving him guiding and care there’s a chance to keep him from becoming a self-destructive alcoholic like he is in the show and maybe he wouldn’t loose touch with those who loved him and Daniel wouldn’t be alone for so long. (I mean he has Mr. Miyagi, but still I wanted to bring them more. I nearly brought them all the Cobra Kai people too 😅 But then decided it was too much and I had to stop because my original idea nearly made Amanda their wedding planner and dear friend, but then there would’ve had to be another arc and I got tired.) It didn’t end up being the end end, I wrote it earlier than the rest of the final arc, before I switched to finishing up other fics like Konpeito, because I needed to get that image down and out and then I worked my way back towards it when I finally sat down to finish the rest of Root Beer Floats and Green Tea. Originally that was the end end.

TLDR: I don’t think I have a schedule but I do, I write whenever I’ve got time and if I don’t I try and take notes so I don’t forget. I also do a mix of planning but usually I’m more of a go with the flow writer. I have plot points I generally want to get to do and then work my way to them.

[rafesgfs]

best friend’s daddy - part three

Warnings: dark!andy barber, language, mentions of age difference, mentions of sex, underage drinking, pregnancy

Word count: 4.8k

Summary: A series of snapshots with your past and current life with Andy Barber.

[highly requested—and i mean highly]

masterlist

Newton, MA - 2017 Homecoming Game

He saw you immediately, shamelessly staring at the bright, yet fake smile slapped on your face as you posed for the picture. Andy's eyes drifted to the football players arms around your waist, too far down for the assistant district attorney's liking, not that he could do anything about it. He was unable to contain the eye roll when one of the players pressed a quick kiss on your cheek while you looked at the camera.

Andy knew he had no right feeling that way. He knew you thought he hated you. The glares, the tone he used, the disapproval glances he gave Jacob whenever you were with him. It was enough evidence for you to think he didn't want you around. He didn't. But not for the same reasons as you think.

Jacob ran past him, pulling you into a hug as the players around you ran back to their pre-game huddle, hyping themselves up. He heard your laugh, his previous annoyance washing away as he listened, wishing he didn't have to keep up his act. Instead, he watched from afar, noticing the fake smile replaced by a genuine one as you hugged your best friend, your cheer skirt rising before dropping back to it's already short length as soon as Jacob let you go.

Like the years before, Laurie didn't come to the homecoming game, claiming she was far too busy with work but Andy wasn't dumb. He could see it in her face everyday, helplessly watching his wife distance herself from him. But he couldn't blame her; he was doing the same. After all, not everything is supposed to last forever.

He secretly admired you, silently praising your will to pursue the career you wanted despite the very many attempts, and lectures from your parents about becoming a lawyer. Andy had gotten calls from them, more than happy to show you around the building with your parents hope of you magically being interested in what they had planned. But you were stubborn, and you hadn't backed down. He was impressed.

You glanced at Andy, surprised he wasn't glaring at you but rather staring at you with an expression you couldn't quite place, and you quickly diverted your eyes back to Jacob. "I'm so glad you came! Thank you for not being a total nerd tonight."

"My dad practically dragged me out of the house, grumbling about how I had to support my best friend when she's on the cheerleading team." Jacob explained, motioning to his father, the older Barber climbing the stairs as he claimed a spot on the bleachers next to your father. "I think it was just an excuse to watch a game that didn't feature the Patriots."

Once again, you were surprised. As said before, you thought he didn't care for your presence; to hear he wanted his son to support you was surprisingly shocking no matter how small it was. "Oh. Looks like he and Dad are gossiping again. Your mom didn't come?"

"No, she had work. What about yours?" asked Jacob.

"Business trip." you answered, sarcasm dripping from your voice. You saw the Instagram posts her friends posted, the so-called business trip had turned into a vacation with the girls. You heard your name being yelled, your cheer squad waving you over. Turning back to Jacob, you smiled. "They're calling me over so I gotta go. I'll find you after halftime, okay? We can ditch."

Jacob arched a brow, the corner of his lips twitching up. "But you're head cheerleader. Aren't you supposed to stay for the whole game?"

"Nah, Leila can take over after halftime. I'll just make up an excuse and say I went off with a guy or something." you said, tightening your ponytail. "Oh, and don't use the last stall in the boy's bathroom. Pretty sure someone had sex in that."

"Pretty sure that someone was you." he replied, grinning as you flipped him off. He laughed when you nearly ran into toddler, apologizing to the little person before running to the squad.

Jacob joined Andy and your father, answering questions from your dad, and listening to the two fathers talk about the mundane life as the game started. Andy's vision kept drifting off to you, cheering on the sidelines as the game, accidentally missing parts of the game. Not that he minded to much, he had a nice view, and he knew the score. It wasn't that much of an inconvenience for him.

Before halftime, you snuck away, going into the school to grab another hair tie from your locker. Thankfully, the field was close to the west side of the school, the locker bay only a short walk from the entrance. Coincidentally, just as you walked towards the bathroom with the hair tie, Andy bumped into you, the phone in his hand dropping to the floor.

"Oh, shit." you cursed, quickly bending down, grabbing the phone and handing it back to your best friend's dad. "Sorry, Mr. Barber, I wasn't looking."

Andy sighed, studying his phone instead of giving into the urge to comfort your tense state. For the millionth time, he wished he didn't have to act like a dick to you. "It's fine. Just watch where your going or you might head into the mens' room."

Not knowing whether he was serious or not, you gave an awkward nod, walking pass him. You hadn't seen the lingering glance he gave you before walking back to the game. Pushing on the bathroom door, you let yourself drown in your jitters, hyping yourself up before coming back and performing.

You had forgotten about Andy by the time you returned.

—

Newton, MA - May 14, 2018

Andy heard the knock, getting out of his seat to unlock the door. A presence befall him, a feeling he only got when you were nearby. With that thought, he immediately opened the door, greeted by the sight of you soaking from the rainfall, shivering, eyes slightly swollen, and downright miserable.

He called out your name in surprise, shocked to see you in such a messy state, let alone see you in his office. "What happened? Come in, come in. Are you okay?"

"Sorry, I—" you shivered, biting your lip to keep from spilling every problem you had faced on him. "It was raining so hard that I had to stop so I wouldn't crash or anything. And this was the closest building I parked to. I ran inside but I guess it didn't make any difference seeing how soaked I am."

Andy wrapped his jacket around your shoulders, unable to find a stray blanket or anything warm to give you. He led you to the leather couch, softly pushing you down to sit on it. "Come here, sit down. Did school end early?"

"No, um, I skipped." you sniffed, sinking down on the leather, letting Andy's coat fall over your shoulders. "I had a fight with my mom. A big one. So, I didn't exactly feel that great to come to school and I've been driving around since eight."

"Sweetheart, you're soaked. You're going to get sick." Andy murmured, wiping his warm hand over your forehead, the little droplets of water wetting his hand. "I have some clean clothes in my gym bag. Tell me what you were fighting about, it might make you feel better."

You watched him grab his duffel bag from under his desk, opening your mouth to protest but the cold, wet clothes made you close it. "I made some backhand comment about having a job in fashion, then she just blew up. She wants me to be a lawyer, go to the best schools, and be successful even if I'm not happy. I told her to fuck off, yelling that I'll do what I want. She didn't like that answer, so I grabbed my keys and drove around."

Andy gave you his Patriots shirt, and a clean pair of sweats, taking his wet jacket from you. You whispered a thank you, before taking off your dripping shirt, not caring Andy was watching. He cleared his throat, diverting his eyes away from your half-naked body. "Well, what did you want to be? What do you want to do after school?"

"I don't really know, except for the fact that I don't want to be a lawyer, that's for sure." you replied, putting on the sweatpants Andy gave you, relishing in the warmth. "I'm sorry for getting your couch wet, I—"

"It's okay, don't worry about it, sweetheart. Are you okay, now? Do you want me to do something about it?" Andy asked, unsure to hug you so he settled for an awkward pat on your shoulder, moving closer to you.

You scoffed, fidgeting with the hem of the large Patriots t-shirt, rolling your eyes at the question. "Trust me, there's nothing you could do about it. They're both so persistent on me being this successful lawyer that it doesn't matter if I want to be one. Tell me, Mr. Barber, what's so fucking great about being one?"

He bit back a smile, shifting on the couch until he was touching you, the serotonin you gave him encouraged Andy to brush back your dripping hair behind your ear, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. With wide eyes, and a slight frown, you meet his eyes. "Well, firstly, you're able to help people. In layman's terms, you either can defend a client, or prosecute a criminal. Putting the bad guys away. Um, you can meet new people, have some experiences that's unlikely for others. But, you're right. You shouldn't have to do what you're parents have planned for you."

"Try telling them that." you sniffled, goosebumps appearing on your arms, subconsciously leaning your cheek on Andy's hand. He heard the angelic sigh escape from your lips, his smile appearing. "Thank you for the clothes and everything Mr. Barber."

"Don't mention it." he replied, bravely wrapping his arms around your slightly shivering body. Andy felt you tense for a few moments before slowly relaxing, shifting so he could rest his chin on your head, his thumb rubbing soft circles on your back. After a few minutes of silence, Andy reluctantly broke the silence. "Would you like me to call Jacob?"

He saw the flash of hurt in your eyes before you composed your expression, nodding slowly as you pulled away. "Yeah, I'll call him. He has free period so he won't be missing anything, I promise. Sorry for keeping you from work, Mr. Barber."

Andy shook his head, helping you up from the couch. "No, no, no. I just had some papers to go through, you didn't keep me from anything. The rain is slowing but you can stay in here until Jake comes. If you want."

You nodded, giving him a weak smile. "Thank you."

—

The Barber House - June 1, 2018

Giggling uncontrollably, you leaned against Jacob, a bottle of beer in your hand. Jacob laughed over the cartoon character with you, throwing his head back at the ridiculous scene on screen. Scooby had just stared at the screen, ending the episode, the screen turning black before another episode started. The noise Scooby made just had you and Jacob in another fit of uncontrollable laughter.

The sleepover had been spontaneous, yet long way overdue. In less than a week, you'd have graduated, and moved out of Boston, living in New York City as you went to the same college. That was one of the upside of finally leaving Newton, but even with the continuous nagging from your parents, you were still going to miss them.

You had been extra quiet, knowing full well Andy was stressed for something Laurie had done, the wife walking out of the house just as you had pulled up on the driveway. She had given you a friendly greeting, asking questions about graduation, before hugging you and driving away in her car. You knew it was bad as soon as you entered the house, seeing Andy glaring at the kitchen counter as you waited for Jacob to come save you. Thankfully, you didn't have to make small talk with the lawyer.

But the his tense expression was enough to keep you quiet in Jacob's room. Well, until he turned up with beers he had gotten from a mutual friend of yours, Cory Gilbert, the bartender at the bar and grill you and Jacob frequented at. He was over 21, legally able to buy the beer, giving it to Jacob as a present for graduation. Cory had given you a nice bottle of brandy, but you had decided to save it for graduation night instead.

Getting drunk hadn't been hard, for Jacob anyways; it took more than a few pleads from your already drunk friend to convince you to drink with him. Once you did, you felt the liquid slightly burn down your throat and you greeted the giddy feeling it left you. Soon, you were found leaning against Jacob's bed, sitting on the floor as the both of you cackled at the animations playing on the screen.

Andy still hadn't came up to hush the both of you; and to be honest, you weren't sure to be relieved or disappointed. You settled for relieved once as you saw Scooby and Shaggy running away from a "monster."

It was half past ten when you finally got up from your spot on the floor, leaving Jacob to drunkenly slur at his phone while the tv played in the background. Getting up, you headed to the bathroom, careful not to make anymore sounds than you already had. You were too drunk to notice Andy standing outside his door, arms crossed as he amusingly stared at your little tip-toe walk to the bathroom.

You finished your business, washing your hands, and heading back to Jacob's room when you lost your footing and stumbled into Andy's arms. You yelped in alarm, glad for the muscular arms that caught you. Looking up, you saw what your drunk brain could only describe as Adonis. You smiled, patting his pec as you slurred. "Thank you, Mr. Barber."

"How drunk are you, sweetheart?" Andy asked, not letting you go. He felt you swaying slightly in his arms, bringing you closer to his chest until your face was only a couple of inches away from his. His eyes flickered to your lips, his tongue licking his own. "You look flushed."

Giggling, you couldn't help but grin at the human contact. You had been so sure he hated you, but from your current position, your assumption seemed silly. "You're making me blush. Me and Jacob haven't been drank—drinking that much, pinky swear."

He snickered at the tiny slip up with your grammar, the slowness and laziness in your voice evidence enough if it hadn't been for the burst of confidence, and shouts from Jacob's room. "You shouldn't be lying, especially to a lawyer. Let's get you sobered up, wouldn't want you waking up with a bitch of a hangover tomorrow, now would we?"

Andy places a hand on your back, his hand intertwining with yours as he tried to lead you downstairs safely but you halted in the middle of the hallway, laughing as you sneaked behind him. You tapped his shoulder, trying to push him down. "Gimme a piggy back ride, Mr. Barber. Like the ones you gave me when I was four!"

The lawyer burst out laughing, finding your drunk confidence adorable. He couldn't help but agree, squatting down enough for you to climb onto his back, your legs wrapping around his waist, your arms locking around his neck. Andy held your legs in place with his hands, shifting you upwards so you rested comfortably on his back. Turning his head, he raised an eyebrow. "You ready, princess?"

You nodded in response, your hair ticking his neck as you snuggled closer to his neck, nuzzling your cheek. All the alcohol had rushed to your head. Andy walked down the stairs, careful to keep his grip on you as he did so. He heard all the tiny giggles and gasps you made, his bad mood dissolving with each sound. He couldn't remember a time Laurie had made him that happy.

Reaching the kitchen, Andy sat you down on the kitchen island, reluctantly letting you go as he went to grab a glass of water. He gave you the glass, but you rejected it, too busy looking at the game on the tv, seeing past the arch and into the living room.

He set the glass on the counter, leaning against it as he crossed his arms, staring at the mesmerized—and drunk—girl in admiration. You turned your attention back on him as soon as the commercials rolled, catching him ogling you. Blushing, you giggled once again, waving him over.

Curious, Andy stepped towards you, surprised when you gripped the collar of his shirt, dragging him closer to you until he was only a couple of inches away. Leaning in, you whispered in his ear. "I have a secret."

"What is it?" Andy asked, one word away from kissing his son's best friend. The tension radiating from interaction had him weak, helpless from the very tempting chance to take you right there and then.

Cupping your hand around your lips, you felt him snake between your legs, bringing you even closer. With your lips near his ear, you whispered, "I have the biggest crush on you. Sometimes I wish you were single so I could ride you until I physically can't."

Andy growled, his hands digging into your waist as his lips hovered over yours, his blue eyes piercing yours. He murmured your name, so close to losing all of his control.

"Every time I come over, I hope you'd push me against a wall, rip my shirt off and fuck a baby in me." you confessed, loving his body warmth. His grip had tighten on you to the point it was borderline painful, but you relished in it, the alcohol numbing the rational thoughts in your head as they screamed at you to shut up.

The lawyer was so close to doing what you wanted, nearly taking you right there. But much to his dismay, his morals had held him back; surely all it would take would be another sentence murmured from your lips but he considered himself strong. "Sweetheart..."

Just as Andy's lips brushed over yours, loud, heavy footsteps made him pull away, spotting his son drunkenly enter the kitchen. You smiled brightly at Jacob as if you hadn't been about to kiss his father. Andy raised an eyebrow at his son, irritated for interrupting. "Jacob, what're you doing?"

"I—" the boy frowned, forgetting momentarily on what he was doing. Jacob pointed at you, returning a random wave. "I was looking for her, because I got worried she fell in the toilet or something."

"She's fine, I was just sobering her up." Andy answered before you could, reluctantly helping you off the table, wishing he had a few more minutes alone with you. "Don't let your mom see all those bottles when she gets home. She won't be lenient as I am."

Jacob saluted in response, watching his dad help his best friend off the table. He was too drunk to notice the longing looks you had exchanged with Andy. "Okay, dad. Night."

Andy stood in the kitchen, alone, watching his girl giggle at something his son whispered. With more confidence than ever, he pulled out the manila envelope from the kitchen drawer, placing it on the table. Laurie would find it when she comes back.

—

Newton, MA - July 4, 2021

"You're so fat." Jacob commented, eyes widening when he felt the baby kick. Without much thought, he invaded your personal space, placing his cheek against your stomach. You sighed, rolling your eyes at your best friend. Jacob chuckled. "This little guy is gonna be a soccer superstar. Like Cristiano Ronaldo."

Andy chuckled from the driver's seat, pulling into the driveway, pulling Jacob off your stomach and back to his seat. "Don't antagonize her, Jake. She might rip your head off for breathing the same air without her permission."

Childishly, you stuck your tongue, making your baby daddy burst out laughing before as he turned off the car and opened the door. But you could hardly say his comment was an exaggeration, grimacing at the memory of nearly snapping Andy's arm off when he had forgotten the almond milk from the weekly visits to the grocery store. It had been both a blessing and curse to have Jacob in the outs of the pregnancy when that incident occurred. You hadn't wanted him to see the growing bump.

With the help of both Barbers, you got out of the car, carefully and slowly for the sake for both you and the babies. The two were chatting as they unloaded the baggage from trunk while you made your way to the house, reminiscing in the days when Jacob's glances weren't filled with betrayal, as if you had ripped his heart from his chest.

It wasn't everyday he looked at you with that raw emotion in his eyes—the betrayed looks had started to decrease the more time you spent together—yet you still felt guilty. With a hand over your growing belly, you opened the door, bombarded with memories from childhood, once again reminding you who you were having a baby with.

Once Jacob had sprinted out of the room, in anger and denial after seeing his father tangled in bed with his best friend, you had pushed Andy off you, wanting to go after him. When Andy argued it was better off for Jacob to be alone, you had blamed him for everything, for ruining the lifelong friendship with Jacob and weeks of stress caused by sleeping with him the first time. The lawyer hadn't denied the guilt or blame like you thought he would—like you wished he would—instead drowning in the insults you threw his way.

You didn't start to forgive him until Jacob came back, but then loathed him after the your best friend announced he needed some time and space to think it out, uncertain which conclusion he would come to. Thankfully, he couldn't live without you in his life, no matter how hard he tried, so he came running back, wishing for an apology when all you wanted to do was cry and wish you didn't have to spend two months without him.

Andy, like the charming bastard he is, had slowly broke down the wall of bricks made from your anger and hatred, and unwillingly, you let him in. Jacob had explained, quite awkwardly, he should be in no way a problem to yours and Andy's relationship, only to be slapped by the pregnancy news. Surprisingly, he kept it light and took it well.

Unsurprisingly to Andy, the fetus (he had been very upset when you occasionally called the baby that) had been conceived on Thanksgiving, proving the plan B useless. You had given up any pretenses at that point, and gave in to Andy's precautions no matter how ridiculous they had been; safety for the fetus.

Your parents had been content with the excuses you've made, only a little suspicious on not wanting to see them during the months of carrying the baby. The baby boy to be precise. But the lack of visiting since college was consistent enough for them to not rise suspicions.

You settled down on the couch, exhausted by the road trip despite how short it was. Newton was hardly small, but with Andy's former title, it wouldn't be long before rumors spread, and with rumors came exaggerated stories along with middle-aged women judging your life decisions because they had nothing to do all day other than sit in their lazy asses.

Andy and Jacob set the bags down by the doorway, Jacob letting out a huge sigh while his dad walked over to you, kissing your forehead. You couldn't help but smile at the gesture. He sat beside you, leaving no room to breathe.

"Hello, gorgeous."

"Ugh." Jacob groaned, turning his eyes away from the PDA. "Okay, I'm gonna go before any more of this happens. I'll see you guys for dinner."

Before you could ask, Jacob closed the door, practically sprinting to his car. Seeing his father in bed with his best friend had scarred him. You turned your attention back to Andy, head tilting in confusion. "Where's he going?"

"He's giving me some alone time with you. Had to pay him a few bucks after he complained about stealing you, but he'll manage for the next couple of hours." Andy explained, his hands absentmindedly stroking your belly, his smile beaming.

"What's happening in the next couple of hours that he can't be here for?" you asked, curious. The blast of hormones had been a gift Andy knew he didn't deserve, with you crawling over his body in the earlier months of the pregnancy, waking him up with lips wrapped around his cock. With his precautions for the baby, he'd been a tease for the past few weeks with the due date just barely two months away.

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head in amusement. "It's not that, sweetheart." Andy chuckled at your pout, disappointed by the outcome. "I just wanted to spend some time with you."

You knew there was something more, but you let it go, one thing at the front of your mind. Your fingers clawed at his shirt, biting your lip. "Then let's spend some time together." Leaning closer, you softly nipped at his earlobe, whispering in his ear. "Daddy."

Andy murmured your name, stern and sure but the bulge in his pants deemed a different story. That was enough for you to stop seducing him. "You're going to be the death of me."

Laughing, you turned the tv on, cuddling next to the soft man. Well, as close to cuddling as you could with the belly in the way. Your feet had been sore despite the not having to walk much all day, but the road trip had taken a lot of your already drained energy. Andy understood, gently taking off your shoes and massaging your feet until they no longer felt sore.

Two hours were wasted watching true crimes documentaries, Andy passionately commenting on the evidence they clearly had missed, and voicing his opinions of who was clearly guilty. You muffled a giggle, amused by the former lawyer. It still surprised you to see Andy so ... light? The forehead creases only coming together when something had displeased you, no matter how tiny. Retiring must've done something to relieve the stress he carried.

It wasn't until the third Buzzfeed Unsolved episode came on that you got tired. Andy, sending the change, muted the screen, pressing a soft kiss on your close eyelids. He positioned you so you were leaning against him, your back to him as you laid on the couch, a hand over your growing stomach. Anxiety seeped through his veins.

Andy cleared his throat. Playing with your hair, he said, "Marry me."

Your eyes snapped open, growing wide as you pondered if you had heard him right. "What?"

He shrugged. "Marry me."

Andy had said if so casually, it wasn't a question, but a statement. Or more accurately, a demand. You turned around, putting space between you two. Your eyes were hurting from the lack of blinking. "What?"

He reached in his pocket, the small, velvet box that had rested uncomfortably in his pocket took your breath away. Andy opened the box, revealing a diamond, far too beautiful to look at. His smile widened, taking in your shocked expression. "Please marry me."

A minute of silence passed.

"You're fucking insane." you whispered, staring intently at his blue eyes who were sparkling in excitement. He knew the outcome.

Andy's smile hadn't wavered. "Is that a yes?"

"No!" you shouted, getting up from the cough. He stood up, his arms ready to catch your unbalanced body. You glared at him. "I'm not going to marry you because I'm pregnant! No! No, no, no. I forbid you to ask me that question until this baby is out of me."

He laughed, wrapping an arm around your waist. "So, when I ask in two months ... ?"

"You'll just have to see." you murmured. A smug smirk fell on his face, but this one was warmer, more heartfelt.

"You'll say yes."

You shrugged, but couldn't help the smile appearing. "Probably."

< previous

[harmonizingsunsets]

It might be foolish, but you got me all soft

Read on Archive here.

Kate's nose crinkles as she watches Penelope and Colin. Their feet dance with one another underneath the table. He leans over, whispering something in her ear that makes her giggle. Their smiles are brighter than the fluorescent lights of the coffee shop. Watching them is almost blinding.

"You guys are so cute," Kate observes with puckered lips. "I hate that."

Penelope turns to Kate with a bemused expression. "No, you don't. You love us."

"Love isn't the word coming to mind. Nauseated is more like it."

"Kate, everyone finds us adorable," Colin insists, wrapping an arm around Penelope. "It's not a matter of opinion. It's just a fact."

"I'm happy for you two. Honestly, I am. But you're acting so lovey-dovey and sweet that it makes my teeth ache," Kate jokes, picking up her coffee for a sip.

"If we make your teeth ache, then you and Anthony cause cavities," Colin mutters.

Kate chokes a little on her mocha, causing a few patrons to give her odd looks.

"Excuse me?"

"Colin, we talked about this," Penelope says through gritted teeth, shooting him a disapproving look.

"No, you talked about how we weren't supposed to say anything because they're both so jumpy about it, but I disagreed," Colin protests. "Someone needs to open their eyes."

"Hello, I'm still right in front of you," Kate says, waving her hands at them. "Open my eyes to what?"

Colin and Penelope argue with their eyes for a few moments before Penelope cracks, nodding. Colin turns to Kate with a sly grin.

"That you're in love with my brother."

It was a good thing she wasn't drinking that time, or she'd have to spit her coffee all over them. Although, perhaps a spritz of hot coffee would wipe the amusement off of Colin's face.

Kate feels her cheeks heat. She opens her mouth, but only incomprehensible protesting sounds come out.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about," Colin says, his smile turning softer. "He loves you too."

"That is not true," Kate insists, standing up straighter in her chair. "I don't love him, and he certainly doesn't love me. Right, Penelope?"

When Kate turns to Penelope, the friend she usually can rely on for back-up is instead chewing her lower lip.

"Well...."

"Pen!"

"I'm sorry, but Kate, Colin's right," Penelope says, the words rushing out guiltily. "I write romance books for a living. I know the enemies to lovers trope very well, and you two embody it."

"That's ridiculous!" Kate exclaims, her heart beginning to hammer in her chest. "We drive each other crazy. I mean, we've become better friends over the past few months—but it's not like that."

Penelope tilts her head. "Would it be so bad if it was?"

"Yes!"

"Why?"

A hundred reasons that Kate could never utter go through her mind. She wants to say, "Anthony dates pop singers and models, and I can't live up to that." Or she could confess, "When he looks at me a beat too long, I feel like I could combust from the weight of it." Most of all, Kate wants to say, "If I let myself love him, I know that I'll never be able to stop."

But she can't tell them any of that. Kate had been just fine about the prospect of being alone. She's satisfied with her career, family, and friends. But if she admits that she loves him, then she'll never be content with any life that doesn't include him in it.

No matter what Colin and Penelope think, Anthony doesn't love her. He can't. Letting herself hope that he does is too dangerous. It scares her more than any thunderstorm she's ever endured.

"I have to go," Kate murmurs, standing up numbly from the table.

"Kate, wait," Colin says, grabbing onto her arm. He looks apologetic, and it's impossible to be upset when looking into his puppy dog eyes. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up."

"It's fine," Kate insists with a thin smile, tugging her arm away from his grasp. "I got to go. Have a nice evening."

As she walks out of the coffee shop, she hears a cheesy pop tune about love play on their radio.

The lyrics inspire Anthony's face to surface in her mind.

Kate groans, knowing she's in deep trouble.

That night, she couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned in her bed but couldn't stop hearing Anthony's teasing voice in her head.

In a huff, Kate gets out of bed and quickly puts on her clothes. She debates whether to reapply makeup but decides against it. No one else will see her where she was going.

Luckily, she's friends with the security guard, who let her inside the building that turned off the lights twenty minutes prior. She thanks him and hastily goes to her office, turning on the light and booting up the computer at her desk.

If she wasn't going to sleep, she might as well get some work done.

For a while, all that she hears is the sound of her keys as she typed and the soft hum of music she'd put on to work.

She thought she'd be safe listening to music without lyrics. But Anthony creeps into every note, every chord, and every song.

Just as Kate lowers her head to beat it against the table in frustration, a knock on her door causes her body to jolt upright.

She stands from her chair slowly, walking to the door with caution. No one else would be here this late, so she fears what was on the other side of the door. But if someone was there to hurt her, why would they bother knocking on an unlocked door?

When Kate turns the knob, she sees the face of the man who's been haunting her thoughts for the past few hours (longer than that, if she was honest with herself).

"Hey, what are you doing here so late?" Anthony asks.

"Um, working."

Anthony scans her with curiosity. "On a Sunday?"

"So are you," she points out, crossing her arms.

He holds up a black leather journal. "Actually, I just came by the office for my phone book."

"You have a phone book? Anthony, there's a reason for that contact list on your phone."

"I like writing it down," he defends, looking affronted.

"But you can't add emojis, which adds personality to someone's contact." Kate pulls out her phone and holds out the contacts for him to see. "Edwina has two pink hearts, Penelope has a book, Benedict has an easel, and you have a fire emoji."

"Why do I have a fire emoji?"

"Because you make me want to set things on fire, of course."

Anthony smirks. "Well, next time we play that 'who's most likely to' game in the office, I'll be sure to put you down for becoming an arsonist."

Kate smiles at him, and they fall into one of those moments that's becoming more frequent between them—ones where his body seems to close, and his eyes gleam with something she can't name but feels a kindred sensation within her heart.

Kate takes a step back from him. "Why did you need your phone book so late, anyway?"

Anthony itches behind his ear. Kate frowns, as it's a nervous tick she's never seen from him before. Anthony, like fire, was all-consuming. His feelings were as hot as flames and easy to detect. But now, he looks more guarded, his eyebrows scrunched and his posture squirmish.

"Anthony?" she asks again.

Anthony takes a deep breath. "Well, I actually needed it to call you."

"Me?"

"Yeah. My phone hasn't been working since I went out on the boat with Simon. The bloody idiot knocked it onto the water," he grumbles. "I got a new phone and need to add my contacts back on, which is why I'm lucky I have this phone book which you mocked me for having."

Kate rolls her eyes. "What did you need to call me about?"

"Well, I know we had a rocky start to our relationship—."

"Because you hit on my sister?" she asks, arching her brow.

"I did not hit on her. I merely danced with her at the Christmas party," Anthony corrects with an exasperated sigh. "How many times are we going to argue about this?"

"Until you admit I'm right."

"It'll take a long time for that to happen."

"I've got plenty of time to spend with you."

As soon as those words are out, that heat radiating from Anthony's fire feels warmer. It's as if more time with her is exactly what he wants.

But Kate doesn't let those thoughts get far. She squashes them before they can take root in her mind.

"Continue," Kate tells him.

"Yes, well, as I was saying, we didn't start on the right foot. But, over these past few months, I feel like we've become friends." He looks at her with a hesitant kind of hope. "We have, haven't we?"

Kate smiles. "Yes, we have."

"So, I thought as my friend. You'd like to come with me to this."

Anthony draws two tickets from his pocket and holds one out to her. Kate takes it from in, and her eyes widen as she reads what's on the paper.

"The Vitamin String Quartet?"

"I know you listen to them to relax. I saw that they were touring and coming to London, so I thought that—." His words suddenly halt, tilting his head at her curiously. "What?"

Kate blinks in confusion. "What do you mean 'what?'"

Anthony points at her face. "You were looking at me all funny."

"I was not!"

"Yes, you were! You were looking at me like this."

Anthony imitates a soft-looking expression, gazing at her with an affectionate smile. Kate, in horror, realizes she had been looking at him like that.

"Shut up," Kate scoffs, nudging his arm and hoping it distracts from the blush on her face. "Like I'd ever look at you like that."

"If you're going to be mean, I won't give you the ticket."

He reaches over, but she pulls her hand back.

"Fine, I'm sorry," Kate says, looking down at the ticket in awe. "This is really nice of you."

"So, you'll go with me?"

"Of course I will," she nods, beaming in excitement.

Anthony releases a breath. "Good."

He begins to back out of her office, but she steps forward from her desk, grabbing his arm.

"Anthony?"

He turns. "Yes?"

Before she can second guess herself, she leans up, pressing a kiss to his cheek. When she pulls back, it takes a few seconds for his eyes to open, as if he thinks she's a figment of his imagination that will disappear.

"Thank you," Kate whispers.

Anthony nods, giving her a kind smile before leaving her office.

The music on her computer is still playing. Kate hears the gentle notes of a piano, cautious and optimistic-sounding.

The night had been amazing.

The quartet performed beautifully. They played orchestrational versions of pop songs, which makes Kate feel less guilty about listening to them.

She worried when Anthony said he'd never heard any of their music himself, that he wouldn't enjoy it. But when the concert started, she kept stealing glances out of the corner of her eyes. She saw him watching the players with a content expression.

However, the music didn't help her much with her newfound Anthony problem. When she closed her eyes, the violins sang his name. When his hand grazed hers on the armrest of the chair, the music swelled in tandem with her heart.

He was a song she couldn't get out of her head.

And the worst part was, it was a tune she didn't think she'd ever tire of hearing.

They bantered a bit about the weather while waiting for their Uber. Kate claimed the night was perfectly brisk, not enough to warrant a coat. Anthony, however, disagreed. He poked at the goosebumps on her arm as proof and insisted she take his jacket. She eventually relented, letting him drape his jacket over her shoulders.

When he looked away to wave at the car they'd been waiting for, Kate turned her nose to the jacket. She smelt the scent of amber, sandalwood, and something that was discernibly Anthony.

When they get into the back seat of the car, Anthony turns to her. "Can you believe that couple who sat in front of us?"

"I know! They were all over each other the whole night."

"Music is the food of love, but couldn't they have got the meal before the concert?"

"You'd think," Kate huffs, curling her fists further into his sleeves for warmth. She looks back at him, offering a smile. "I had a really nice time."

"I'm glad," Anthony nods. He swallows nervously, forcing himself to meet her eyes. When he does, Kate sees a raw vulnerability glistening in them. "I just wanted to make you happy."

She bumps her shoulder against his. "You do that by just being you."

Kate's words skim a cello string, creating a deep note that lingers in the air. Something flickers in Anthony's expression, his gaze steadying on her. Suddenly, it's harder for Kate to breathe.

"Look at us, acting like that couple," Kate jokes, trying to ease the tension. "The music must be getting to us too."

"Yeah, that's probably it," Anthony hums, moving a fraction closer to her. "Because right now, I feel this urge to put my arm around you."

Anthony gives in to the feeling, putting an arm around her back. Kate's breath hitches as his thumb rubs circles on her arm. Even through the material of Anthony's jacket, his fingertips send electric shocks to her skin.

"And I want to lean my head right here," she finds herself saying, resting her head on top of his shoulder.

"I want to tuck this strand of hair behind your ear.”

Kate feels his fingers skim against his cheek, gently moving a curl that had fallen into her face behind her ear. Her breath quickens, slowly turning her eyes up at him, and the look he's giving her is overwhelming.

"This is all so ridiculously stereotypical. You make me feel so—so..." Kate's words drift, unable to finish her sentence. Her tongue goes out to wet her lips that suddenly feel dry. "I hate it."

Anthony's index finger goes to her chin, tilting it up and off of his shoulder. "Do you hate this?"

He leans forward, kissing her so sweet and tenderly that she knows if she were standing, her foot would pop up like all of those delusionally romantic heroines in movies do when they kiss.

She gets lost in him. Her hands go up to cup his cheek as she deepens the kiss. Anthony's arm moves from her shoulders to her waist, pulling her flush against him. He swallows her gasp, and Kate hears a cacophony of melodies in her mind.

Kate doesn't know how long they stay wrapped in another's arms. It's only when the driver clears his throat that she realizes the car had come to a stop.

They jump apart, and Anthony gives the driver an uncomfortable nod. "Sorry, sir."

"It's alright," he says gruffly and mutters something about "just wait till you have kids, it won't be like this" as they get out of the car.

They stand awkwardly on the street for a few seconds. Kate looks around them. The vivid leaves of the trees stand out amongst the darkness of the night.

Kate remembers when she first met Anthony. It'd been fall, and the trees were bare with leaves littering the ground. It had felt fitting. Back then, her publishing company announced that they were joining one of their competitors. She had to work with Anthony, as they were both the top production editors of the separate companies. Like the leaves, it felt like everything was falling apart. Every smirk or retort of Anthony's felt like the leaves blowing chaotically in the wind.

But now, the trees were alive again, flooding with color. Kate's at the dawn of a new season with Anthony. It's something as inevitable as the change of weather but as everlasting as the stars above them.

No—stars eventually burn out. Kate thinks that whatever is between her and Anthony will continue to burn when all other flames dim.

"So, that happened," Kate says, breaking the silence.

Anthony takes a cautious step towards her. "Yeah, it did."

"I didn't hate it," she shrugs with a teasing tilt of her lips.

"Wow, what great appraisal. Can I list you as a reference for giving me such a raving review?"

"Excuse me, who else are you planning to apply with?"

"No one, I'm quite satisfied with my employment with you," he assures smugly, his hand going up to her cheek. "But, I'd like to have a slight promotion in my position."

Kate leans into his touch. "Oh really, what position do you want to fill?"

"Well, I think I've done everything that I can in the enemy job. I've enjoyed the friend's position. But, if the boyfriend position is available, I'd like to submit my candidacy."

Kate loops her arms around his neck. "Well, how about we check over your application one more time?"

"Where do you want me to start?" Anthony asks, pressing his lips to her temple. "My education?" he murmurs as he kisses her forehead. "My goals?" Kate sighs as his lips move to the corner of her mouth, and his hand curls around her waist. "My experience?" He kisses her again, and Kate feels his smirk against her lips. "Or, my skills?"

Kate pulls back with a smirk of her own. "How about what drew you to this position?"

His eyes gleam roguishly, looking at the lack of space between them. "This particular position?"

Kate tries her best to give him a stern look. "Anthony."

"You," he answers simply, resting his forehead against hers. "Everything about you."

Kate's unable to stop herself, chuckling softly. "Wow, that's incredibly sappy."

"But it's true."

She takes a deep breath, feeling content and peaceful in his arms. "Maybe being sappy isn't such a bad thing."

"No," Anthony agrees, the corner of his lips tilting up as he studies her intently. "I'm starting to think that it's not."

This time when Kate kisses him, she does it without a single reservation about cliches or stereotypes, or how she would roll her eyes if she saw the two of them on the street.

Kate's foot pops, and the song that's been stuck in her head gets set on an infinite loop.