#it’s either going to a body shop to get fixed or we’re just going to trade it in for a different used car

[mcondance]

an “i love you” that isn’t words

Spencer’s love for you is evident all around you.

warnings & notes the rumors are true i love tøp and spencer reid! anyways fluff but still MDNI 18+, title from shy away by twenty øne piløts, do not listen as you read. inspired by the lyric it’s titled after. real freaks only (people who love love), reader may or may not be autistic i don’t know if you feel it you feel it! reader is a bit shorter than spencer, writing fluff is becoming less and less out of character for mcondance

1.1k words (what…….)

Spencer’s apartment is still, save for the solitary body making its way from room to room. Music floats from his turntable— you remember having to tell him to store his records vertically. Even that super mind of his didn’t contain the knowledge of what happens to records if they’re stacked on top of each other. So he stood them up, and he made room for your records as your collection slowly began to find a new home. 

The desk by the door is littered with both yours and his papers, and trinkets that belong to both you and him, Spencer’s lamp, and a really weird looking lamp you got off EBay more than a few years back.

One of your blankets is thrown over the back of the couch, infusing some color into the deep browns and reds of his living room. The small table in front of the couch holds your tattered copy of the book you’ve been reading since you were 12 years old. It looks like something you can’t describe, something that’s been with you for a decade now lying on your boyfriend’s table. Poetic, maybe.

Your stacks of books have long since married with his. To anyone else, it’d look like a library, but to you both it’s not enough, not enough. 

“We’re gonna have to rent a storage building,” you deadpan, staring up at the ceiling in bed.

“Yeah,” he agrees, letting his head fall toward where you lay beside him. “But what if there’s a book we want to read but it’s in the storage building? Then we’d have to drive over just to get it—”

“And we’d get distracted like we always do so we’d be there for hours.”

“It’s unproductive.”

“Horribly so.”

You’re not sure who breaks the faux-formality first. Either way, you both end up laughing with sparkling eyes fixed on each other, and a giggled agreement to just let the books continue to pile up. 

“I wouldn’t mind living in a library,” is what Spencer tells you after he’s caught his breath.

In the bathroom there’s room for yours and his body wash. Your toothbrush sits next to his in a brown mug with a funky design on it, one you brought in your move. Along the side of the sink lay your hair products, arranged neatly. Two towels hang from a spiraling rack you bought at an antique shop a few months after you moved in. 

“Spencer, look!” You exclaim, clearing the small space in less steps than it’d usually take you. He follows quickly, pressing his chest to your back as he looks over your shoulder and gives his attention to the metal rack. 

“We can put it in the bathroom, maybe. If that’s fine with you,” you suggest, turning to face him. It seems like his eyes are ever melting when you’re in his line of sight, but somehow they melt further when you turn. His arms wrap around you and pull you close, encasing you in the kind of warmth you get when you step out of the cold into a heated building, shivering but grateful to be out of the frigid temperature. It’s reminiscent of how it felt to actually step into the shop. 

“If you want to, then we’re going to.” 

“Yay,” you smile, before you kiss him shortly. He smiles back, glowing eyes soft and smooth, and kisses you authentically, and not so deeply as to be inappropriate in public, but still enough that you distantly think your legs might buckle. 

The bedroom is a portmanteau of you and Spencer. Your plushes sleep soundly on your side of the bed, and at night they watch quietly from their perch on the table on the other side of your night stand. Your stand matches Spencer’s, so heart-flutteringly you’re sure teenage-you would jump up and down and screech. Scattered upon your nightstand are a couple of half-drunk bottles of water, your vitamins, various necklaces and rings, a couple of books stacked on top of each other, and a drawing Spencer made for you. 

Spencer’s side is a bit less packed, but still unorganized nonetheless. Books (of course), a journal and a pen (you’ve gotten him into journaling as a way to regulate himself when he’s feeling overwhelmed), and when he comes home later tonight his watch will join the rest of his things.

One side of the closet is yours, and the other is Spencer’s. While his style seems wacky to other people, there’s a couple of pieces on either side of the closet that have a sibling on the other side. The clothes that can’t fit in the closet are folded in the dresser drawers. 

The dresser is decorated with a couple of your CDs, the ones you like to see when you’re in the room. Necklaces and rings plucked from various antique and thrift stores are spread over the cherry-tinted wood, mixed in with some of Spencer’s cologne, a tie or two he hasn’t hung up yet, and a bag of candy you’ve both been eating out of. 

Your trinkets mix with his, a display of two people who spend way too much time sifting through shelves in places full of dust and the smell that is unique to antique shops.

“Jesus, why do these shops always smell like that,” you whisper as you enter the store.

“Everything in here is most likely, at the least, over 50 years old. Most older things are made of natural fabrics like linen, cotton, wood— you know, stuff like that— that are extremely good at absorbing smells. I’m sure our clothes now will have a unique smell that people down the line will have the exact same reaction to.”

You smile, and you think your eyes are about as wide as a saucer, that little look of pining you always take on when he talks like that. It’s not your fault, really, he’s just so nerdy and you love his rants so much. 

“I can tell you more about it while we shop,” he offers. 

“Uh, duh,” you answer, looking between him and a cute tie you think he’d like.

In the kitchen cabinet, your bowl is freshly cleaned, as Spencer washed it before he left this morning. Ever the pattern-recognizer, he picked up on your attachment quite quickly and has made that accommodation for you ever since. You’ll use other bowls if you have to, but you haven’t had to for months. 

The record finishes. You pick another one out of your section of the collection, and play that one. Coincidentally, it’s one of your favorites that became one of Spencer’s favorites after you played it for him. One happily and gratefully became two.

[darlingdia1007]

OMG hi I saw that you ate taking requests and I just HAD to request.

Could you maybe do a Stanley x F! Reader where they are an old married couple and resder is angry about something and keeps cussing and being a meanie. The twins are scared and looking at grunkle stan for help about this and to calm Reader down before she sets the shack on fire but Stanley just says this is normal and he intact finds it incredibly hot.😜😜

Beating the heat

(Thank you for requesting this one. It seems very silly honestly. I do apologize, it’s been a while since I’ve written a fanfic.)

It was around 1:30pm when the temperatures had reached its highest of 105° degrees and the AC wasn’t working correctly in the shack. Stepping outside wasn’t the best idea either since the wind would only blow hot air.

Stan and his wife were sitting at the kitchen table as they began debating if they should close the shack since it would become a bigger issue as the day went on. This heat was slowly getting to (Y/N) very quickly. Placing her hand on the collar of her shirt, she began to fan herself with her shirt. Beads of sweat slowly moved down her face as the breeze she created felt amazing.

“Even when you’re melting over there, I bet I can Make you melt in other ways~” a scraggly voice said in front of you. Stan had made one of his “flirty” remarks at you. Most of the time you would love them and shoot one back his way, but dear lord was it a bad time. “Hun, Right now isn’t the best time.” She said as she looked at him and rolled her eyes. This heat was really getting to her now. “Oh come on, you love that one!” He remarked as he got up from his chair.

Sometimes, even after the 30 years the two had been together, married, she could still get mad at him for reals sometimes. This was one of these moments. Getting up from her chair, she had quickly put your chair back into its place and entered the gift shop. An Idea that would probably save her life but she couldn’t do it till everyone was out of the gift shop.

Reaching for the open sign, she switched it to closed as to let people know they will be closed for the rest of the day. Now the only issue was getting people to leave the gift shop. Sitting herself down at the register, she began helping people pay out one by one. Around 20 minutes later, the last customer left. She smiled and waved goodbye to the woman and hurriedly locked the door.

A sign of relief left her lips as she ran a hand through her graying hair. Stepping away from the door, she went to the vending machine and began typing in the familiar code as she made her way down the stairs.

—————————————————————

“Grunkle stan, Why does Grauntie (Y/N) seem… mad?” Mabel had squeaked out from around the corner when leaving the gift shop and entered the living room where her grunkle was seated while watching the TV. “Mad? What do you mean kiddo?” He looked at Mabel in confusion when Dipper came from behind his sister. “She was all pushy and grouchy towards the customers when she was checking them out. She was also sweating pretty hard.” He wiped the sweat from his hands as he soon realized it was getting a little hot.

Stan sat there for a sec and an idea popped into his head, “Kids, go get your swim suits, we’re going to the pool.” Shouts of excitement lept from the kids.

——————————————————————

“Ford… hello?” She had made it to the last couple of steps as she placed her foot on the solid floor. It was surprisingly cold down here so the biggest smile crept onto her face. Standing next to the stairs, she closed her eyes and embraced the cold that was creeping over her body. Unknowingly to her, her brother-in-law heard her and was walking towards her. “Yes?” He asked as he looked at her.

“Oh good, you’re here! I need to ask the biggest favor.” She pleaded as she looked at him. “The AC is broken and I have no clue what’s wrong with it. Could you please save me and fix it? I’ll make you those sugar cookies you really like.”

His attention was quickly caught on when he heard that his favorite dessert was about to be made for him. “I’ll get right to it then.” A small smile was placed on her face as she began to go up the stairs when she heard a familiar voice that she was a little annoyed at.

“(Y/N) are you down here? Honey?” It was Stan. Her smile left her face when heard her husband calling her name. Finally making it to the surface, she came face to face with him. “God you look so hot when you’re feisty.” He quickly grabbed her and spun her around. She couldn’t be mad at him for long after that. A small kiss was placed on her lips as she held onto him, slowly melting at the affectionate she was being given from him.

“See, I told you I could make you melt.” He laughed as her face quickly became sour and pushed him away. “What? I can’t like my women a little feisty?! Hey, go get your bathing suit, I’m taking you and the kids to go swimming to beat this heat.” He began walking back to the living room as (Y/N) stood there at the small gesture.

Walking upstairs to their bedroom, the sounds of floorboard creaked as she made her way to their shared bedroom. Quickly reaching to the dresser to pull out her swimsuit, she placed it on the bed and grabbed the sunscreen, sunglasses, and the beach bag. Everything was packed and ready for the pool. The sounds of laughter could be heard from the outside porch as the twins were talking to each other. Mabel seemed to be the most excited out of the two of them though.

“Honey, we gotta be home before 5, I still need to make the cookies I promised your brother.” You had said as Stan walked out in his swimsuit. Those adorable striped swimsuits would never get old.

[blueicequeen19]

Charter Ch. 7

Warnings: drama, angst, public-ish fondling

The amount of rage I feel is otherworldly. After watching him dismiss Shoupe then John B and now me.. I’m ready to break something. I follow him back out front but halt my steps when I see him helping customers, like he didn’t just give me the best two orgasms of my life. But watching him lather on the charm for these two rich bitches seems to piss me off more. Especially as they soak it up and cast me shitty looks. I’m sure I look freshly fucked and I’d love nothing more than to rub it in their faces who’s cock was just inside me but I bite my tongue, busying myself with restocking.

“If you ever need help, let me know. I know good help is hard to find.” I hear one of the bitches say. I shoot her a look at the same time JJ glances at me. I know he’s trying not to laugh but fuck him too.

“I’ll keep you in mind when we’re hiring again.” JJ lathers on the charm and I could kill someone. I make my way out the front door and down the pier. I needed to clear my head. I’m half way down the dock before I stop, panting to catch my breath. He was in me like a sickness. Like a disease spreading throughout my body that would surely kill me. What had started as harmless fun had quickly turned into something else. I fucking missed him

“Y/N!” I startle at the sound of a familiar five years olds voice, followed by fast approaching footsteps. Summer barrels into me just as I turn around, engulfing me in a hug that could bring tears to my eyes.

“We came to see you and daddy!” Summer beams up at me just as Sarah and her daughter approach. I smile and she smiles back.

“She was insisting.” Sarah says, rubbing her daughters back.

“Come on, let’s go say high!” Summer leads me back towards the Charter until her and her cousin decide to race down the dock. Sarah shakes her head with a laugh, falling into step with me.

“John B told me what happened with Chelsea. I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into the middle of that mess.” Sarah says, watching as the girls burst through the door to no doubt bombard JJ.

“Thank you. Definitely wasn’t expecting it.” I shrug, my eyes on the slats beneath our feet.

“Listen, JJ is difficult.” Sarah pulls me to a stop and I face her. “He didn’t come from a loving home. I’ve never even heard what happened with his mother but his father was an abusive addict who was gone more than he was here and when he was here, he was getting JJ to fix up his messes. JJ’s had a shit hand in life and then everything with Summer happened. Despite everything, she brought him back to life. She gave him purpose. But JJ has a tendency to push people away that get too close to their little bubble. He doesn’t want to risk Summer getting attached or hurt so if he’s pulling away, it’s because he’s scared.” I blink back at Sarah, my heart in my throat.

I don't know what to say so I only nod. We agreed in the beginning that this was only sex, no feelings. And so far I'd been wrapped up in baby momma drama and felt more feelings than I cared to admit. Sarah gives me a hug before following after the girls and into the shop. I can see JJ laughing as the two blonde headed girls talk adamantly to him. I was practically blinded by the twinkle in his eyes from how happy he was. Maybe I wanted him. But I didn't want to complicate his life either. I didn't want him to feel like he had to choose. So with a heavy heart, I hung my shop key on the hook next to the door, JJ's eyes immediately finding mine through the window. I turn away and make my way across the street to where I'm parked, refusing to let him see my tears.

It’s been three weeks. To say I miss him would be an understatement. But I refuse to acknowledge it. So I stay busy working at the bar and taking care of Bo. I entertain Jared when he comes in for drinks because I'm bored and need the tips. He begs me to take him back and I ignore him, moving to a different side of the bar. Part of me was afraid that Chelsea or her Goons would show up here but so far there's been nothing. My life had become boring and uneventful.

Part of me had expected some sort of reaction from JJ but I was also glad there hadn’t been one or else I’d have given in to him. Even if it made me sad. That’s why I stayed busy. I couldn’t miss him if I was too busy to breathe. It was the late nights when I was alone that emotion would choke me. I’d picture his grumpy attitude as he roughly bent me over the workbench. Or the spark in his eyes when I got mouthy as he thrusted into me. My stomach filled with butterflies and my pussy throbbed just thinking about him inside me again.

“Y/N, are you even listening to me?” I looked up at the sound of Jared’s shitty tone of voice, having been lost in my own head and going through the motions of making drinks.

“Jared, I’m working.” I signed, handing off three more beers to a couple of rowdy college guys. I could practically smell the fraternity on them.

“You’re always working. You never answer my texts or calls even now that you’re not with that asshole anymore.” Jared scoffed, downing his beer and sliding the empty bottle to me

“I wasn’t with him.” I muttered, uncapping another beer and giving it to him. I almost missed the way Jared tensed and his eyes narrowed.

“Right. You can fuck him all you want but you can’t be in a relationship with me. When did you become such a slut?” His words light me on fire. I could’ve hit him with an empty beer bottle but I resisted, gritting my teeth.

“The moment his big dick pushed inside me.” I spat before I could stop myself. Jared’s eyes flared and his hand on the bar balled into a fist.

“Fuck you, bitch. I’m done wasting my time.” Jared snatched his beer up and stalked off, shouldering other people out of the way.

“I need a break.” I muttered to my help, yanking my apron off and storming into the back. I let the back door slam behind me as I collapsed against the brick building. The bar rested on the pier, the back of the building facing the ocean so I watched as the son disappeared beneath the water and blanketed OBX in darkness.

“Ya know, if he hadn’t walked away from you when he did, you’d be throwing me out of this place.” I startled at the sound of JJ’s calm voice, whipping my head around to face him as he approached. My stomach immediately knotted with nerves and longing.

“What are you doing here?” I finally managed, my heart in my throat. JJ leaned against the building next to me, his bright blue eyes on my face like he was searching for something.

“I needed to see you.” He said it so matter of fact that all I could do was nod and turn away.

“It’s not just sex anymore.” JJ said smoothly, turning so he was leaned against the building and facing me.

“No.” I agreed, refusing to look into those eyes again.

Just being near him again made it hard to breathe. It had only been weeks but they’d been so long. I could smell the salt of the ocean on his skin, the weed on his clothes, the alcohol and mint on his breath, the shampoo in his hair. I blinked away tears as I shook my head again.

“I don’t think it ever was just sex with you.” JJ’s words radiate into my chest and I fight back a sob.

Suddenly his hand grabs the back of my neck and yanks me against him, his mouth finding mine in a bruising kiss I’m too weak to fight. A needy sound leaves me as I wind my arms around his neck and lift up on my toes to get as close as I can. His tongue finds mine as his hands tighten on my body, one on the back of my neck and the other on my back under my tank top.

JJ turns me so my back is against the brick again, his body pinning me in place as his tongue tastes the inside of my mouth. We make out like horny teenagers. Messy and full of tongue and teeth. I couldn’t stop. When he pops the buttons on my shorts and slides his hand into my panties, I nearly groan with relief.

“God, you’re so fucking wet.” JJ moans against my lips, his fingers massaging my slit. My knees felt weak and my legs trembled while he teased me.

“I missed this.” He applied pressure to my clit between kisses.

“I missed you.” Two fingers slid inside me and I gasped, gripping his shirt as he leaned over me to bury his face in my neck. I widened my legs as much as I could but the tight fit felt too good. Feeling him stretch me with two fingers and then three felt too good. His teeth graced my neck as I shamelessly rolled my hips to meet his hand, trying and failing to stifle my moans against his shoulder.

“Cum for me right now then take me home so I can fuck you as hard and fast as I want.” JJ practically growled in my ear, his free hand pinching my pierced nipple through my bra.

“Oh god!” I cried out, the orgasm washing over me like a tidal wave. My body shook uncontrollably and my legs nearly gave out as he worked me through it then didn’t stop. I suddenly heard footsteps off to my right and turned to see Jared there, looking like a deer in headlights before his gaze turned murderous. Why had he come back here? To find me? Hoping I was alone?

JJ turned his head too, looking right at Jared as his fingers worked harder, faster. I could feel the tension between them as JJ claimed me now like he did the day Jared came in the shop. JJ used his free hand to tuck his shirt over something, showing Jared the gun on his hip as he fingered me. I looked away from Jared’s rage and kissed JJ’s Adam’s apple. He swallowed and I bit him.

“One more then I’m going to fill this pussy with something else. Come on, baby. Cum all over my fucking hand.” I cried out again, throwing my head back against the brick as I came. It might’ve hurt if I wasn’t riding out the best high of my life.

My breathing was uneven and I could barely stand by the time he was done pumping his hand. I turned and thankfully found that Jared was gone. He probably would’ve charged JJ the moment he pulled his hand back out of my shorts and sucked them clean then kissed me again.

When I pulled back, I was breathless and exhausted. Yet I felt lighter than I had before. Like a weight had been lifted off. I smirked at the bite mark on his throat and he smirked back looking hungry as ever.

“When is your shift over?” JJ asked, pressing his pelvis against mine so I felt how hard he was.

“Anxious?” I tease, cupping him through his shorts. JJs eyelids fluttered and he pulsed in my hand.

“You think I won’t fuck you against this brick wall too?” JJ warned, leaning in to capture my mouth again. I wanted to give in. I wanted to feel him inside me more than anything else but we needed to talk. We had to have a conversation.

“J, we can’t just rush into this with sex. We have to talk.”

“Then let’s talk. Come over when you’re done. Bring Bo if you have too. Summer is with John B. I’ll make us dinner and we can talk. No sex until we do.” I could’ve melted at the determination in his voice. How much he wanted this.

“Deal.” I said, holding my hand out for him to shake. He took it.

“Deal. I’ll see you soon.”

[punkassfrance]

Sierra Nevada - Chapter I - Ellie/Abby

Chapter I: Donner (Work Length ~1.4k) This work is rated M for canon-typical violence and gore. Please look here for a full list of warnings for the series, specific warnings will be provided at the start of each chapter. This work contains passing mention of cannibalism and discussion of a massacre. (Aftermath- corpses, smell, etc.) Full Series - Next Chapter

“Even though I told people to call me Linda, that was another girl’s name. I had to change my name several times because of what I had done, or rather, what had been done to me.” - Aimee Parkison, “The Innocent Party”

-

Abby

It was hard to say exactly what happened to the Fireflies. They didn’t have much to go on, once Abby and Lev finally made it to Catalina island. There were no notes, no maps, no audio logs explaining everything they needed to know. From what did remain, Abby could only say one thing for sure- it was a fucking bloodbath.

The bodies weren’t fresh. They weren’t old, either. Sometime between 2425 Constance and the moment they made it to the island, the Fireflies were wiped out. It had been a few weeks, maybe a month since the bodies hit the ground where they laid. There was no getting away from the smell; nowhere on the island was safe from the harsh reminder of whatever had happened.

Some of them looked like they went down fighting, gunpowder residue still on their fingers. Some were executed. There were missing boats along the docks- some must have made it out alive, she thought with the last bit of hope she had left. It didn’t last long.

Lev looked up from the shambles of the Fireflies, looking to Abby for hope, a plan, anything she could offer. They’d spent almost two years looking for the Fireflies, they’d been so close. It was all Abby had wanted.

But they still had fresh rope burn. They both still hungered from the pillars, and she had injuries to take care of from the cure. She still tasted blood, and tried not to focus too hard on what was stuck in her teeth.

“…come on, Lev.”

That was almost a year ago, now. Maybe if they weren’t both exhausted, starving and beaten like dogs, they would have kept looking. They wouldn’t have given up on the Fireflies.

But Santa Barbara changed things. After all they’d seen, all that had happened, some part of Abby decided it was just over. All Lev wanted was to be with Abby, and all Abby wanted to do was get the fuck out of this city.

The sailboat made it as far as San Francisco before it couldn’t keep going. Abby had tried to fix it for about a week before Lev confessed he wanted to explore inland- see what the world was like outside the coast.

“Abby?” She looks up from her journal as Lev calls her from a few yards away, pointing to a road sign he’s spent the last ten minutes uncovering. “How do you say this? Trucke?”

Abby stands and walks over to him, squinting at the sign. “It’s Truck-ee. Just how it looks. Means we’re getting close to Nevada.”

There’s been…some interruptions on their trip, to say the least. Some things Abby can’t bring herself to remember, let alone talk about- but they’re past that. Abby’s hair is slowly growing out, past her shoulders now, just enough to braid. Her hair hasn’t been this short since she was a teenager. Lev’s kept his hair short, but not fully shaved- he gets nightmares when it gets too long. But then, he gets nightmares most nights.

“What’s Nevada like?”

“What is it, October? Should be nice. We should leave before spring, though. It’s a lot of desert. We’ll go around Reno if we can help it.”

“Have you been there?” Lev lets the foliage fall back over the road sign, hands resting on the straps of his backpack.

“Nope. We’re both gonna see something new.”

They’re just outside of Donner, Abby pausing their lesson on the history of the area to take a short rest. He’s fascinated by what he’s heard, even the morbid details she barely remembers. “Book on Donner Party/murder?” is written down in her shopping list, one of the dozens of things she needs to find at some point. He’d like that, she’s certain.

“We should get moving. Should just be another day or so to Nevada.”

Lev nods and starts off down the road as Abby puts her journal away, half-jogging to keep up with him. “Hang on, Lev-”

“Gotta get a move on!”

She huffs quietly and runs until she catches up to him, glancing around the woods. He knows she’s been trying to get back in shape. It’s been tricky, after everything that happened in Santa Barbara, but not as hard as she feared it would be. Muscle comes back easier once it’s been gained the first time around, even if the limited calories complicate things. Whatever anyone had to say about the Washington Liberation Front, they kept their people fed. One of the few things she misses from Seattle.

“I’m coming.”

Ellie

“No. I’m not gonna do this again. If you walk out, I’m not going to be here if you come back.”

“That’s up to you.”

-

There was no real point in going back. There was nothing left for Ellie, after all. The possessions she’d turned into a life meant nothing anymore- Tommy probably took most of them when Dina left. If she ever decides she wants any of it back, if she ever returns to Jackson to beg for Dina’s forgiveness, she hopes Tommy at least has the decency to feel ashamed.

Not that he matters, anymore. Not that anyone in Wyoming matters. Not that anyone matters.

When she journals about it, she wants to say she hasn’t been this disconnected since she was…younger, but she can’t settle on an age. First it was Riley. Then Marlene. Then Joel. Then Dina. As much as loneliness has haunted her entire life, the more she thinks about it, it was never so tangible. There was always something there, someone keeping her tethered to humanity.

But Santa Barbara changed things. After Abby disappeared into the fog, after she stood from the water on the last shreds of energy she had and watched the horizon, it was too late. When the stars started to appear on the water, it hit her that there was nothing for her anywhere. Jackson might welcome her, but it would never be home again.

So, east. There was no real plan to it, nothing beyond get out of Santa Barbara, so that’s what she did. Wandered until she found somewhere suitable to settle down. She’s not sure what the name of the town is, just that it’s quiet. Joel would have liked it, she thinks- he loved the mountains. They never managed to get this far west together.

It looked like an old vacation town, somewhere rich people would visit when the season was right. It’s been nearly a year since she settled here, and if there’s anything she’s learned, it’s that nobody in their right mind would be here in the winter just to visit. The snow should be coming in any day now- she’ll have to prepare for it soon.

At least there’s a nice view from the back porch of the cabin she settled on. Her cabin, now. The previous owner was quickly dispatched, his spores fully aired out within a week. Now it’s just her place. She drinks the tea in her hand, thumb rubbing over the design on the mug. It’s not the same owl mug Joel had, but it’s close enough to remind her. Remind her she cared about someone for a little while.

Her place is so quiet. There’s no voices, no humming from the kitchen, no kids giggling and playing outside. It’s nothing like Jackson. If she doesn’t speak, nothing needs to be said. It’s nice. A bird sings nearby— it’s one of Ellie’s favorite sounds. Joel told her it was called a Mourning Dove.

Pushing herself back from the balcony railing, she gives the woods one last look before she turns back to the house. There’s a laundry list of things to do- prepare firewood, move the few plants that can be moved indoors, clear out the gutters— small things to handle before the snow really sets in. The greenhouse still needs fixing up, just another thing for her to get to once summer returns.

As endless as it feels, the list she’s built up is only a few years long. Ellie’s not sure what she’s going to do once she hits the end of it.

But for now, as she sets her mug next to the sink and reaches for her jacket. She’s fresh out of distractions for the morning.

I'm so excited to start this series- hopefully you enjoyed chapter one, more on the way soon! Again, heed the warnings for each chapter, please be safe! Huge thanks to @jennaispunk for looking this over for me, the help is very much appreciated!!

Thank you to @plum98 for the forest divider! Feel free to say hi or drop your thoughts in my askbox, check out my AO3 or my about me if you're interested!

[oleander-nin]

The Weight of a Letter(8)

A/N: Apologies if it's not the best, I'm not having a good time right now and I'm also really busy. This is kind of a filler chapter, and I hope it doesn't come back to bite me. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

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Words: 1519

Content warnings: A scolding, arguing

Chapter 8: A Needed Scolding

I hear the door behind me click open, Irma’s figure stepping in. She waves at me and I wave back, my face pulled into an unsure grin. The entire interaction I had just a few moments ago made me feel uneasy, but I doubted my worry held any weight. I had just seen an old friend again after months between our first meeting. It was cool, even if he seemed more cautious this time around.

Irma makes her way across the apartment, setting her backpack down on the floor next to the couch. She crashes down, her long arms stretching above her head as she pops her back. I stand in the middle of the room for a moment more before sitting next to her, my hands clasped in front of me. My eyes scan Irma, her body collapsed on the couch as she curls into the armrest. “How was school?”

“Fine. I brought your homework back. We learned a new topic in English though, and I very much do not like it.” Irma says, her face scrunched in displeasure. I snicker into my hand and she sticks her tongue out at me. She turns back to her phone, and I reach for the remote that was sitting on the back of the couch. I flip on the TV, scrolling through the different channels until I settle on one I like. 

We both sit in silence for a while, neither of us wanting or needing to start a conversation. I always liked how we could just exist in each other's space, and that was all that was needed to spend time together. Except, we were spending time together because I can’t go home at the moment, rather than us being this close from our own accord. Still though, it was nice.

“Do you want pizza tonight?” Irma asks, her fingers raking through her hair. She looks at me over the top of her phone, her eyes, dancing between the screen and my face. I think her offer over for a minute before shrugging. I sure didn’t want to cook, and I doubted Irma did either.

“Pizza sounds great, thanks.”

Irma nods and messes with her phone for a bit, presumably putting in the pizza order. I turn back to the TV, mindlessly watching the show. I fiddle with my thumbs, sighing. Today was certainly an odd one. I couldn’t help but feel I was forgetting something.

“Hey, how come you never answered my texts.” Irma says, her eyes narrowed at her phone.

Oh, that was what I was forgetting. My phone. I rub the back of my neck, unsure how to phrase all that went down. If I told Irma about the mutant turtles, she wouldn’t believe me. I didn’t want her to think I was any crazier than she already did. It would probably be better to be as vague as possible, or even to lie if I can. “I broke my phone.”

Irma looks at me blankly. “What?”

“I got upset and threw it at the wall, and it uh, it kind of shattered?” I explain, clasping my hands as my leg starts to bounce. Irma groans, leaning back against the armrest.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“Okay then,” Irma takes a deep breath, tapping the top of her phone against her chin. “We can drop it off at a repair shop tomorrow while we’re at school. If they can’t fix it, you’ll just have to get a new one I guess.”

I hesitate for a moment. “Actually, I already have someone who’s working on fixing it…”

Irma blinks at me, confused. She chews on her cheek, thinking my words over. “Did you stop by a shop or something today?”

I shake my head, suddenly feeling very stupid for my decisions. “Uh, no. I actually uh, I… Do you remember that guy I told you about? The one I met in the junkyard?”

Irma narrows her eyes at me, clearly not liking where this was going. “Go on.”

“I met him again, and he kind of offered to fix it?” I say, wincing. Irma looks as if she’s going to breathe fire.

“I’m sorry, you just gave your phone to someone who you met at some random junkyard?” She groans, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands. “Do you realize how stupid that sounds?”

While I completely agree with her, I feel the urge to defend myself. Will my argument win? No. Will I gain back some of my pride? No idea, but too late to back down. “He understands tech, and he offered to do it for free. It doesn’t hurt.”

“It does hurt! What if he fixes it, then just mines all your data? Or sells it on the internet of something? Do you even know when you’re getting it back?” I cringe as Irma continues to scold me, her face worried as she starts to pace. I sit on the couch in silence, making sure not to speak. I give up on trying to defend myself. Hindsight was twenty/twenty, and I was an idiot. I fiddle with my thumbs, unsure how to explain. She was right, of course, but it’s not like it would’ve made a difference. They offered to fix it, so I’m letting them fix it. 

“I know who I gave it to, it’s not like I handed it off to someone on the street.” I protest weakly, sitting up a bit. Irma narrows her eyes at me, frowning. I shrink back into the couch.

 “(Y/n), you’ve met the guy twice. And there was an almost four month gap in between each meeting.” I rub my arm, knowing she’s right. I got too caught up in the moment and didn’t think about it enough. Giving them my phone, broken or not, was probably a bad idea. Most likely, I’d never see it again. 

I scooch over as Irma plops next to me on the couch, her arms crossed. She grumbles a bit before glancing at me. “Let’s give it a week. If they don’t come back with your phone, we’ll cut our losses and just get you a new one.”

“Okay.” 

Irma's face morphs into one of concern, her hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry for yelling at you, I was just worried. If you don’t have a phone and something goes wrong, you can’t call me for help. Just, next time, don’t give your phone to the first random guy who asks.”

I snort slightly, nodding. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

Irma holds her pinky out for me to take, a wide grin on her face. “You gotta promise, (Y/n). We got too much weirdness going on for you to go handing out possibly privacy shattering stuff. You have everything on your phone, let’s hope this guy isn’t some weirdo.”

I sigh, hooking my pinky with hers. “I promise. But I swear, this guy isn’t bad. He's really cool, and his brothers are super sweet.”

“His brothers?” Irma questions, raising an eyebrow. I smile shakily, my hands moving back and forth next to my head in a ‘jazz hands’ motion.

“Surprise? I met his brothers. They were all super sweet.”

Irma looks unimpressed. I sigh, pouting. “He had three brothers, and they were all around when I saw him again.”

“Where exactly did you guys meet?” Irma asks, looking more confused than ever. My eyes dart to the fire escape. 

“I went on a walk.”

Irma sucks in a deep breath, trying to process everything. I felt bad, knowing this was probably just adding to her stress. I’d tell her the truth eventually, just, after this whole possible stalker thing was over. One thing to deal with at a time. I didn’t want to lie to her, but I didn’t want to push all this new stuff on her just yet. Hopefully she will understand.

“Okay, well, nothing we can do about it now I guess.” Irma’s voice knocks me out of my thoughts. Her arms were crossed and she was looking at the door, contemplating something. Never before have I wanted to reach into her mind and see what she was thinking more than now. I know I made her upset, but I truly wasn’t thinking. I just took the opportunity I was handed. It was fine though. I trusted Donnie. Plus, there really isn't anything we can do except wait.

Irma sits back down grabbing her phone. She curls into the armrest like before, but this was different. I feel my heart sink. Irma was upset, and now she was ignoring me. I turn back to the TV, unable to pay much attention to the screen. I would leave her be for a bit. I could only hope this would all blow over soon. Irma would see it was fine, and we would go back to normal. Irma would see that she was overreacting, and I would apologize again for being careless. 

I pull my knees to my chest, too clouded with thought to do anything. This would all blow over and be fine. It had to.

[trollprincess]

Okay, so. Episode six of Wolf Pack:

THAT is why Blake doesn’t have a phone? That’s … that’s ridiculous. A phone didn’t break up her family, it was her dad being a loud abusive git and her mom cheating. THAT is what broke them up. C’mon, Blake, I know you’re a teenager, but I was hoping you were vaguely possessed of common sense.

Speaking of Blake, at least she and Phoebe made up, I guess. Tia murmuring at Phoebe and Phoebe being all, “Oh, shut up,” was super-cute. Too bad for all the eating.

Sooooo. Baron? Darren? Whatever his name is. I just … okay. I mean, it’s not the worst storyline this could have followed, but whatever.

Okay, you can’t tell me you brought in Gideon Emery to act his ass off in ONE episode and that’s it. I refuse to believe it.

Look, at least the previous mid-riff baring numbers FIT. That embroidered-looking thing Luna was wearing in the barn looked terrible.

As someone with an anxiety disorder, watching Everett be put on the spot like that at the party made my anxiety kick up HARD. Stop DOING that to him! Even if he’s not medicating and he feels better it’s still THERE.

Harlan has very fluffy hair. Because it’s full of SECRETS. And BAD GAY FLIRTING.

Why do I feel like the twins’ “real” father is going to show up in the last episode at the last moment so next season can be him trying to get his kids back? Which, of course, will only be an acceptable plotline if he does so by negotiating custody with Garrett and then the two fall in love after the pack thinks they’d make a cute couple and Parent-Trap them into getting together.

I don’t KNOW why I’m still watching, okay? I know I’m a sucker for “teens growing into their powers” stories, but I also know about shows run by Jeff Davis and how this way madness and bad writing lead.

Everett’s dad is very nice and genuinely concerned, and I’m just wondering when the fucking divorce will come because Jesus hopscotching Christ, y’all.

So SMG protecting the werewolf. Trying to capture it for testing or something? Still monster-hunting with a side business in murdering security guards? I … I don’t know anymore.

Remember the ice rink? Just the core four on TW going and having fun by themselves, even though there were bad things out there, being silly, enjoying themselves, everybody’s sober? Not that everybody NEEDS to be sober, mind you, but I feel like we went from “My mom does all the grocery shopping” and a natural lack of swearing given where TW aired to “Everybody at this party is higher than the the original Woodstock crowd” and “I can curse on Paramount Plus!” followed by a string of swear words even my curse-heavy vocabulary is impressed by. I don’t know, I guess I just miss the ice rink because it felt like that was more character-developing than the party at Tia’s and less like someone put [insert rave here] in the script and a supervisor came along to whack the writer with a newspaper and say, “No! Bad writer!” and had them fix it to … er, this.

On the one hand, shame Phoebe died. On the other hand, was it really necessary to drag the actress across a glass ceiling in a bikini top which was already threatening to structurally collapse in the last episode, much less during a blood-soaked body haul?

I’m going to need all these generic white boys to start wearing name tags. Except Harlan, who is fluffy, and Shaggy Napoleon or whatever we’re calling Luna’s horrible taste in men.

I’m not saying this show could make me a lot happier if the pack end up a polycule (obviously not Harlan and Luna together, but Luna/Blake and Harlan/Everett would be worth it), but I’m not NOT saying that either.

[the-showfall-worker]

[Transcript received.]

J: “So! Here’s my little shop I have set up! My plans are over there, my works in progress are there, and- say, sweetie, did you need a new outfit? Yours looks a bit dirty…”

?: “Err… Yeah, I probably do…”

J: “Goodie, that gives me something to do! Not many people have come by recently, you know?”

[Soft footsteps on carpet are heard as Jenny leads the worker around.]

?: “I do know…”

J: “Right? Who would try to blow this place up? It doesn’t make sense to me!”

?: “Err… me either…”

[There’s a brief moment of silence between the two as Jenny sits in a chair and starts searching around in a drawer of fabrics.]

J: “Now, were you-”

?: “Um… Sorry to interrupt, but… do you… remember the blasts?”

J: “Huh…? Oh, no, I wasn’t here then. I’m just glad most people here are alright! Now, were you wanting something colorful or the same kind of suit as you-”

?: “Nothing…? Not… beforehand, either…?”

J: “Sorry to say I don’t! … Don’t you think we need a bit more spice around here? Everyone looks the same-”

[There’s a quick movement as the worker places their hand on the side of Jenny’s mask to get her to look at them.]

?: “Jenny… You have to be in there somewhere… Where’s that strong will you told me about…? I don’t know how long they’ve had you like this, but you have to wake up…”

J: “I am awake, what do you mean? I’m right in front of you, honey… Are you feeling alright…?”

?: “No, you have to be there… They can’t have gotten rid of you completely… Jenny, look at me… Do you recognize me at all…? … Anything…?”

[There’s a long pause.]

J: “It… feels like I do… It really does. But it… feels far away… You’re scaring me, what am I forgetting…?”

?: “You’re forgetting what happened to you before… Do you remember that…? The room we were sent to…?”

J: “I… don’t… Ahem, ah, anyway, what kind of outfit were you w—”

?: “Jenny, you can’t just leave me here…! I said we would both make it out of here, and maybe that was just me being blindly optimistic, but god damn it if I’m not going to try!”

J: “Sweetheart, I’m not leaving you, I just don’t remember-”

?: “You don’t know me at all, but I would die for you to make it out of this god damn mall!”

J: “I don’t need to leave, I-”

?: “Those bastards took my mom from me!”

[Silence.]

J: “… I don’t remember you. I don’t know what to tell you.”

[More silence lasting for about 1 minute.]

J: “… So! … Colors?”

[More silence that lasts 3 minutes.]

J: “Sweetheart, are you alright…?”

?: “… No… I… I don’t think I will be… for… a while…”

J: “Aw, honey…”

[The sound gets muffled as Jenny hugs the worker yet again.]

J: “It’s okay, let it out… We can get you all fixed up after a while, okay…?”

[The only sounds that can be heard for about 6 minutes are sobs from the worker into Jenny’s shoulder.]

J: “It’s okay… I’m here… Take deep breaths, okay…? We can pull ourselves together, right…?”

?: “I-I don’t want to be fixed…”

J: “Oh, sweetie, you’ll feel better when you are…! You shouldn’t be feeling this much str-”

?: “That’s exactly the point…! They don’t want us to feel anything…! Look at your mannequins, Jenny! Those are people! Real people!”

J: “Those… are mannequins-”

?: “Those are people! Jenny, look around! You want to know why people would blow this place up? Because they finally realized they are people and the actors are people and everything that happens here is real!”

J: “You’re… not making sense-”

?: “Jenny, they let me starve in that ‘trash’ room for two days! Do you know what that trash is, Jenny? It’s bodies! Bodies, Jenny!”

J: “No, that’s just-”

?: “And those bodies get put in the meat grinder and then served to people at the food court! We’re eating people here, Jenny! People are killed here for realizing the truth and if you don’t believe me, I’m next! You’ll never fucking see me again!”

J: “We aren’t-”

?: “And do you want to know the worst part? You won’t remember! Just like how you don’t remember right now- I’ll be a fairytale to you! Something distant in your subconscious! I’ll be nothing!”

J: “Sweetheart-”

?: “You won’t remember who you swore you would protect-!”

[A fast movement and a click. The room goes dead silent except for some whirring.]

J: “… No wonder you’re so anxious, honey, your mask wasn’t even on… You should be feeling better now, right…? Look at me real fast…?”

?: “I’M DOING… MUCH BETTER… THANK YOU, MRS. JENNY…”

J: “Good to hear, sweetie… Now, back to the topic at hand… Colors or monochrome?”

?: “I’LL… DO COLOR-”

[End transcript.]

[the-astral-idiot]

Voice Lines for Respite

Pick Agent:

“For this? I can break an oath.”

C (First Aid):

“Healing you.”

“Walk it off.”

“You’ll survive.”

“Here’s some heals.”

Q (Infirmary):

“Barrier’s up.”

“Bubble’s up.”

“Get in here.”

“Boosting healing.”

E (Extraction):

“Get back here.”

“Regroup.”

“Let’s regroup.”

“You’re welcome.” (Ally extracted)

“Not done with you.” (Ally extracted)

“You’re not dying yet.” (Ally extracted)

X (Recovery Beacon):

“Patch yourselves up.” (Ally)

“Give up, it’s pointless!” (Enemy)

Resurrected:

“Needed that. Cảm ơn, em.” (Needed that. Thanks, you.)

Match Start:

“I’ll patch you up when I can.”

“Stay close. My watch doesn’t have endless charge.”

“*Sigh* Keep yourselves alive, please?”

“Back in combat. Great. Let’s make this quick.”

“I’d rather you survive on your own, but don’t forget to shout ‘Medic’ if you need.”

“Building up defenses. My expertise.” (Defenders)

“Trời ơi, don’t rush in, we’re defending. They’ll come to us.” (Defenders)

“If you push too far, I can get you back out. Not saying you should, though. At all.” (Attackers)

“Radianite… Useful stuff. Let’s get it and get out.” (Attackers)

Round Start:

“Fancy new battlefield, same old shit.”

“Let’s try some new tactics. Keep them guessing.”

“A cup of coffee would be nice…”

“Charging my watch… there. All set.”

“The better we do this, the faster we get done. Believe me, I don’t want to be here either.”

“If you get shot, tough through the pain. I don’t have anesthetic.”

“Maybe I should’ve just finished my residency…”

“Keep yourselves alive, I don’t have a fucking hospital setup here.”

“I can stitch you up at base. Not here. Don’t get hurt too bad.”

“Load your guns, prep your gear, and then we go.”

“Anyone have a cigarette? What? I’m a doctor, not a paragon.”

Last Round Won:

“A win. Nice. Keep this up.” 

“Keep the momentum. C’mon.”

“Don’t let up the pressure. They get stressed, we keep winning.”

“Nice work everyone. That was good.”

“Nice, nice.”

Last Round Won, In The Lead:

“Keep up this pressure, and they’ll break.”

“Họ bỏ cuộc chưa? Chưa? Heh.” (They give up yet? Not yet? Heh.)

Comeback: 

“Finally.”

“One win. Let’s make it a few more.”

Last Round:

“Spend it all. No use saving.”

“We’re leaving everything behind. Spend it all”

Match Point:

“We’re close. Don’t slip now.”

“Don’t fuck this up. Just one more fight.”

Spike Forgotten:

“We forgot something very important.”

“Trời đất ơi, why’s the spike in base?”

Shop:

“Let’s buy.” (Call for buy)

“Let’s save.” (Call for save.)

“Anything you want?” (Offer to buy)

“Need this, cảm ơn.” (Need this, thanks.) (Requesting)

Barrier Down:

“Let’s get this done.”

“Everyone ready?”

“Remember: Don’t die.”

“Careful, everyone.”

“We’re winning this.”

“They don’t stand a chance.”

“Stay alive.”

“We’re not done yet.”

“Keep pushing.”

“If we fail, cuộc sống mà.” (If we fail, that’s life.)

“Focus. I can’t heal you if you’re dead.”

“Stay alive until it’s over. Then you can die.”

“Let’s get them.”

“I can pull you out if you need, remember that.”

“Just point and shoot.”

“Call if you need heals.”

“Take them out.”

“Eyes open. Safeties off.”

“Light them up.”

Kill:

“Diagnosis: You’re dead.”

“One’s dead.”

“It’s terminal.”

“Walk it off.”

“Just a few shots.”

“Xin lỗi, Hippocrates.” (Sorry, Hippocrates.)

“Keep trying.”

“You want ice for that?”

“Tạm biệt.” (Bye.)

Headshot:

“Lobotomy.”

“‘Do no harm,’ heh.”

“Medical precision.”

“No fixing that.”

“Euthanized.”

“Kill confirmed.”

Melee:

“A perfect cut.”

“Small incision.”

Triple:

“Checked three.”

Quadra:

“Fourth one down.”

Last Kill:

“Get the body bags.”

“Ok… time for a break.”

“Anyone need medical attention?”

“Superior tactics.”

“And that’s the last.”

“Clean.” (Melee)

“If that’s their best…” (Killed MVP)

One Kill Left (Deathmatch):

“One left.”

Spike:

Defuse Resumed:

“Really?”

“Nice effort, but no.”

Defuse Running Out:

“Ah. Fuck.”

“*deep sigh* C’mon...”

Defuse Successful:

“Đừng thử lại.” (Don’t try again.)

“Cleared. Let’s move.”

Ace:

“They got careless. I took advantage.”

“Just another fight. Just another win.”

“...That’s it?”

Clutch:

“I expected to go first.”

“Can’t even beat one medic…”

“Hm. Seems I failed my job.”

Flawless:

“We’re all alive. Good."

“Should’ve killed me first. Now they’ve killed no-one.”

Low HP:

“Not my first time treating myself…”

“Medic! Wait...”

Thrifty:

“Money isn’t everything.”

Match Win:

“Good. Now let’s get back to base.”

“On to fight another day.”

“We’ll rip them apart next time, too.”

“Get the hell out.”

Match MVP:

“Not just a medic.”

“Heh, that’ll sting their pride.”

“I know my shit. They clearly don’t.”

[ryqoshay]

Putting on Hairs - Post Production: Sleepless Mask

Primary Pairing: ShizuKasu Rating: G? Words: 566 AU: Theater, Monsters, Cryptids Fandom: Love Live Nijigasaki Parent Fic: Putting on Hairs - Post Production Time Frame: Shortly after the couple starts dating (early college?) Event: Promptober 2022 Event Source: Idol Fanfic Heaven channel on Discord Prompt: Coffee

---------

Author’s Note: Primary entry for Oct 29th

Summary: Shizuku is late to meet Kasumi

---------

Shizuku sighed as she stared at her reflection.

She looked horrible. Well, more horrible than usual. Why did the effects of sleep deprivation seem to make her scars look worse?

She reached for her mask. Time to resume the masquerade.

As she shifted position, the reflection of her clock came into view.

Wait, was that the time? Drat! Kasumi-chan is going to be upset!

Shizuku hastily checked her mask and smeared some concealer under her eyes before hurrying out the door.

---------

“You’re late, Shizuko.” Kasumi huffed as she heard Shizuku approach.

“I’m sorry, I…” Shizuku cut off has her girlfriend’s expression changed to one of surprise and panic.

Suddenly, Kasumi grabbed Shizuku’s shoulders and shoved her behind a nearby tree.

“K-Kasumi-chan?”

“Your mask is crooked.” Kasumi hissed, glancing fervently to either side. “Like really crooked.”

“Eh?” Shizuku started to reach up, but was stopped by her girlfriend.

“I’ll get it.”

Shizuku swallowed down a protest. Nobody except her guardians and herself had ever touched her mask. Even when Shizuku had decided to show Kasumi her real face, to make sure, more for her own sake, that Kasumi knew who, and what, she was dating.

Thankfully, Kasumi had been fine with the reveal. Not even an eye twitch or other indication that she was trying to pretend not to be disgusted. Instead, she had offered a sympathetic smile and told Shizuku it didn’t change the girl she had fallen for.

But, this was different somehow…

Shizuku couldn’t help a small gasp as Kasumi deftly removed her mask, shifted it slightly, and slipped it back on.

“There.” Kasumi said as she stood back. “That’s a lot better.”

“Th… Thank you…” Shizuku could feel her cheeks burning.

“Although I suppose Kasumin should probably fix Shizuko’s horrible makeup too.” Kasumi dug through her purse and produced a compact. “Did you stay up too late again working on your play again?” She asked, leaning back in.

“… Yes…” Shizuku admitted reluctantly.

“Geez, Shizuko. Weren’t you the one scolding Makiko for overworking herself the other day?”

“… Yes…”

“Well Shizuku needs to take better care of herself too. Improper sleep is bad for… Wait, is it bad for your physical body’s skin?”

“Probably. My guardians did say it behaves essentially like a normal human body.”

“Except normal humans can’t dismiss their bodies to… wherever Shizuko dismisses hers.”

“True…”

“Well, if it’s essentially like that, then Shizuko needs to essentially take care of it like that. And if Shizuko is gonna insist on being useless in doing so herself, then Kasumin may just have to start staying at her place to watch over her.”

“Alr… wait, what?”

Kasumi giggled. “Shizuko~ wa~nted to agree~.” She practically sang. “Anyway, we’re done here, so let’s go get Shizuko some caffeine.” She tilted her head. “Can ghosts drink coffee? I can’t remember seeing Shizuko doing so.”

Shizuku chuckled. “Yes, caffeine works just fine with me, except I prefer tea.”

“Fine, but you’re getting Kasumin a mocha latte with extra whip and caramel drizzle.”

“Why am I buying?”

“Kasumin just saved Shizuko from embarrassment, so to repay her, Shizuko should buy her something as sweet as Kasumin is.”

Shizuku tried to hold back a laugh, was unsuccessful, almost snorted, and finally decided to just let it out.

“Alright, fine.” Shizuku agreed after a moment.

Kasumi grinned, grabbed her girlfriend’s hand and led them to the coffee shop.

---------

Author’s Note Continued: This was a fun one to write. I don’t think I’ve written motherly Kasumi before, so I tapped a bit into motherly/big sisterly Nico for it.

My original idea for this prompt was to be the morning immediately after Relationship Goals?, but I wasn’t sure I could fit what I wanted for that part of this couple’s story into 4k characters. Perhaps I’ll write that someday soon.

[ultramagicalternate]

ULTRAMagic Interlude: Shadowland Chapter 23

Previous | First | Next

Master Post

Everything was incredibly hectic since it was the day before the demolition. Weaver had a bit of a spring in his step as he happily strode into his workshop, looking to finish up something he had been working on. The forge was ignited and the anvils were ready to go. A large, unfinished mace sat before him on the project shelf, begging to be worked on. Everything was all set, with the weapon just needing to be assembled. As he worked and neared completion, Torunn and Gabriella entered the shop.

Waiting at the counter, Torunn rang the call bell several times. “Hey, Cousin? You got a job that Barna’s too busy for!”

“Coming! Coming…” He called out from the back. “Torunn, Gabriella, what’s good?” Weaver had soot all over him.

Torunn smiled. “It’s a big job: Gratiana wants you to touch up her spears. They’re a bit dull and rusty…” She indicated the giant sheath on her back.

“The Magnus Fulgur themselves? Damn… ha, bring them on back and I’ll see what I can do.”

Making their way around Weaver’s mess, Torunn noticed the mace in the back. “Oh hello, who’s this bad boy?”

“That’s what I’m calling The Dire Mace and it’s for you.”

“Another one!? Jeez, is it my second birthday or something? Thank you, Cousin… is it ready though?”

“One second…” Weaver quickly tightened the leather around the handle grip and made sure it was secure. “Okay, there we go.”

Torunn picked it up and inspected it. The thing was quite large and heavy, but nothing she could not handle. Eight, thick blades made up the head, decorated with etchings invoking their homeworld. “Haha, anything getting hit with this sucker is going to feel it…”

“What’s the occasion for such a craft, Weaver?” Gabriella wondered.

“Several reasons. One, I got inspired recently. Two, the whole stockpile intel kinda has me up in arms… So I figured why not, you know? As for this design, I intended it to be more versatile than a typical hammer. You can swing it back and forth, then change to left and right and so on and so forth.”

“I see. Very thoughtful of you, even if the weapon is a bit barbaric.”

Torunn grabbed a leather holster and put the new mace on her back. “Well the enemy isn’t just going to bend the knee because of our sensibilities. It’s unfortunate, but that’s how it is. Anyways, I’ll have to brandish this around a bit. Those remaining cultists are getting pretty ornery now that they have an idea of what we’re up to. See you later, Weaver. Either I or Gratiana will be around to pick up the spears” She said as she left.

“See you, Cousin!”

With that being said and done, Gabriella glanced over to a pile of ingots and a sword hilt. “What’s all this?”

“That’s Morrigan’s sword… or at least, the start of it. I’ve gotten back in touch with her about it. Apparently she’s staying in The Great Uncity at the moment.”

Gabriella picked up one of the ingots, only for it to fill her with a horrible feeling. It was like her body had been tossed into a fiery pit. “My goodness! Where did you find this much Infernal Iron?!”

“Morrigan. I guess she’s loaded where she comes from. That earned her a pretty big discount.” Weaver got out the spears and began inspecting them. They were made of what appeared to be iron, decorated with gold and engraved with antiquated runes. “Alright then, I see what the issue is…” He went over to the right back wall, grabbing several kits and boxes.

“Mind if I work on my guns while you work?”

“Sure, go right ahead. If you need any tools, the firearm kits are on the far left wall, third shelf if I remember correctly.”

Not much talking was had as Gabriella focused on her repairs. Gratiana’s spears were fairly easy to fix, at first. Sadly it quickly became a lot more complicated than it initially seemed. The gold had to be worked around and the runes looked very important. Weaver also had a sneaking suspicion he was not working with standard iron. It would have been nice if he could contact the original blacksmith, but that was a long shot he knew he could not make. It seemed like a transmutation was in order, but he needed to know exactly what he was working with first.

“Oh boy, Gratiana isn’t going to be thrilled about this…”

“Why that’s, Weav…” Gabriella watched as he cut a small piece from of one of the blades with his magic. “Ah, I see…”

“Now what do we have here?” Weaver poured an amber solution into a beaker and dropped the piece into it. The metal began fizzing, with electric sparks crackling on the surface of the liquid. “Oh boy, I know what this is…” He then went to a shelf to retrieve a book. “Dragoslava wrote about this in one of her articles.”

Gabriella paused what she was doing to look over his shoulder. “What is it?”

“Thunder Iron. And it’s… Oh, lovely.”

“What’s wrong? Is it rare?”

“No, we just have to go to Cyclone World…”

“Oh. Is that the only place the metal can be found?”

Weaver sighed. “There might be some deposits at The Storm Plateau, but that’s not exactly the safest place at the moment.”

Requesting to see the book, Gabriella looked at the coordinates. “I don’t see why we can’t go there right now.”

“Um, okay… we still need to find the ore in question and that could take all day…”

She took him by the hand and led him outside. “No problem. I can get us there in no time and we’ll come right back here if we don’t find anything immediately.”

Gabriella unfurled her wings and jumped up into the air with a flap. Weaver was then enveloped in a glowing aura, following behind her. The angel was fast, but it still took roughly thirty minutes to get to the chaotic planetoid. As to be expected, several hurricanes were raging across the surface. Spotting a big enough eye in the storms, Gabriella plunged into the atmosphere. Thankfully her flight training in Heaven made her fairly adept at handling the strong gusts. Rain and wind battered the two, but that was not going to stop them.

“Wow, this is a lot more stormy than the article led on” Weaver remarked. He had to speak up over the howling wind.

“And a lot colder to boot, brr. My apologies, Weaver.”

“No worries, we had a really bad nor’easter prior to Grimwald chasing me off. This is a sunny spring day compared to that. Come, let’s make this quick…”

Moving with the eye of the storm, the two trudged through water and mud. They found many ore and gems along the way, but none were what they were looking for. Several winged creatures touched down and watched them while they searched. It was a little unnerving, but Gabriella sensed no malice from them. Fortunately for the two, the creatures had an inkling as to what they were looking for. Shrieking in a guiding manner, they led the two to a bog of sorts. Gabriella thanked them as they flew off.

“Right over there!” Weaver pointed to a boulder that hummed with electricity. The only issue was that it was in the center of the mud. “Where’s a big stick?”

“What do we need that for?”

“Ah-ha, this will do…” He brought over what looked like a stripped tree branch. It was stuck deep into the mud, the bog making noises as it went in. What clung to the branch went up to Weaver's thigh. “Yeah, no, we’re not wading through that. Ha, if I wanted a mud bath, I’d go to the Green Witch’s Bog. I’ve heard it’s pretty relaxing. Yngvild even imports mud from there for her wellness sessions.”

“Weaver, are you nervous? You seem a little tense…”

He chuckled. “No no… okay, maybe a little. How are we going to get that boulder?”

Gabriella studied the situation for a moment. “Well, I suppose I could fly over and try lifting it up. It doesn’t look too heavy…”

“If you think you can handle it, go for it… just don’t drop into the mud.”

With a deep breath, Gabriella flew up and over to the ore. It was quite slippery making it hard to grip. After several failed attempts, Gabriella realized something: Why was she not using her magic? Following a couple of seconds of focusing, the boulder was enveloped in the glowing aura from before and popped right out. Despite the strain, she did not set it down. She knew it would be hard to pick it back up once she did. Weaver voiced his concern, but she handwaved it and picked him up too.

The trip back was just as long, despite the two knowing where to go. The boulder was quite heavy and slowed them down considerably. Upon reaching the front door of the workshop, Gabriella dropped the ore with a thud. She was out of breath and dragged her feet inside. The rest was no problem as Weaver could easily roll the boulder to where he needed it. He just had to be careful not to scuff up his floors.

“There we go!” Weaver said with one last heft.

Gabriella had made her way to the back, taking a seat where she had left her guns. “Oh yeah… forget it, I’ll tune them up some other time…”

Weaver was a little surprised. “Took that much out of you?”

“Yeah,” she softly grunted. “Maintaining this form requires a degree of effort and that was certainly a task…”

“Well then help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. Lord knows you’ve definitely earned it.”

“Thanks…”

While Gabriella fetched herself a drink and something to eat, Weaver got to work. First he chiseled off a piece of ore to test it. The amber solution produced the same reaction as before. That was good as now he could get to work. First came the rust removal for the spears. There was another solution for that that was soaked into a wire brush. It scratched the metal, but Weaver had a fix for that.

Working around the gold was a pain, but he managed. Next up was to address the wear and tear. Looking over the spears, Weaver noticed that the right spear was slightly more worn than the other. It made sense given that Gratiana had mentioned in the past that the Arlotti family always believed that the right hand was the mightiest… despite Gratiana being left handed. The next couple of steps involved Weaver melting chunks of ore down, removing the impurities, and turning them into plates. Once they were all ready, he gestured for Gabriella to come over.

“Want to see something cool?” he asked. “What I’m about to do is called Merge Repair. Barna taught it to me.”

“Oh? Alright, let’s see it.”

Weaver placed a plate on one of the blades and held his hand over it. Arcs of electricity hummed and buzzed, causing the plate to vanish. This made part of the spear look brand new. “Ah, we still need more. You keep going until you have stuff left over.”

“Incredible. So what is this process doing?”

“We’re filling in the gaps so-to-speak. Deterioration leads to loss of material, eventually causing things to break. This process fills in the voids and fixes atomic bonds…”

“How fascinating,” an older female voice commented.

The two turned around to see who it was. “Oh hey, Gratiana. Welcome to the shop” Weaver greeted. “So yeah, there was a slight delay, but I’m fixing the spears as we speak. I’m just not sure what to do about the gold…”

“Don’t worry about that, dear. All that really matters is the Thunder Iron and the runes. Truthfully I’ve been considering stripping the gold and replacing it with something like adamantine.”

“Hm, that’s quite rare now…” Weaver remarked as he went back to the repairs.

“True, but I guess Andelin has located an individual who is quite knowledgeable with the metal. He popped up recently and I believe she said his name was Cronus.”

Gabriella was shocked, remembering some history lessons from her childhood. “Oh my… well, um, he’d certainly know a thing or two in that regard” she commented with a nervous chuckle. Evidently Gratiana was not in the know. “Ahem, how did you get here, Gratiana?”

“Oh I snuck out of the castle and took the backways. Sten has been ravenous with his quest for knowledge, so Andelin and Fyodor distracted him so I could take a quick break.”

Weaver laughed. “Yeah, Sten can get quite obsessive when something catches his interest.”

As Weaver continued his work, Gabriella had another question. “Curiously, what are the limits of this process?”

“Aside from requiring enough material, you need the exact metal and it needs to be free of impurities. Dirt and other elements make the process a bit tedious as you either need to work around them or remove them on the spot. Leaving them in can ruin the repair.”

Gratiana looked over to the boulder. “Goodness, where did you find such a concentration of Thunder Iron?”

“Cyclone World. I would’ve preferred to go to The Storm Plateau, but I’m not taking my chances with that thunderstorm and I don’t feel lucky.”

Before anything else could be said, someone entered the shop. “Weaver! I need your tools for a second” Barna said as he rushed over to the shelves.

“Oh, sure. What’s the matter?”

“Some of the components to the detonation setup are on the fritz and I need this stuff for what I have going…” he answered as he got to work. After about five minutes, he was done. “There we go… Oh, hello, Gratiana. Fancy meeting you here.”

Barna had held out his hand, so Gratiana happily accepted the shake. “Likewise, Barna.” Time then began to slow for the two as they looked each other in the eyes. Before they were enemies, but now they were allies on equal footing.

Weaver noticed the two spacing out, so he cleared his throat loud enough for them to hear. “I’m finished with the repairs, Gratiana.”

“Oh, goodness, sorry about that. Thank you very much, Weaver” she said as she took the sheath and loaded the spears into it.

Barna chuckled, albeit slightly embarrassed. “Right, better get back to what I was doing… Gratiana, mead or ale?”

“Oh, well I fancy myself a good ale every now and then, despite all the fine wine I’ve sampled over the years.”

“Great to know,” Barna replied with a clap. “After the demolition: you, me, Dashing Ram. I owe you a drink.”

Gratiana giggled. “Shall we make it a date then?”

This caught Barna off guard. “Whoa ho ho, a date? I mean, well, yeah. Sure! A date, dot dit… haha, a date it is then!” All of that he stammered as he made his way to the exit. “Don’t get too roughed up tomorrow!”

“Same goes for you, Sir Barna!” Once he was gone, Gratiana slung the sheath around her back and made her way to the backdoor. “Farewell, you two. And be ready for tomorrow.”

Weaver and Gabriella remained silent for a couple of minutes. “Well I think that’s the happiest I’ve seen those two so far…” he pointed out.

“What was all that about? If you don’t mind me asking. That looked like love at first sight, or something similar.”

Weaver chuckled as he wiped his hands with a rag. “Well that confirms a suspicion me and the others have had. Let me clue you in on a little something: Gratiana has always had eyes for Barna. No matter what we’ve been through, she’s always refused to finish him off.”

Gabriella blushed, then laughed in joy. “Oh, I see. How wonderful for those two then. Of course, this makes me question why Gratiana stayed with Milosh for so long…”

“Agreed. Hey, since we have some time, let me help you with your flintlocks.”

“Oh, sure. Now these are very complex weapons, Weaver. Some of Achasiah’s best work, if you ask me…”

Next: Chapter 24

ULTRAMagic Alternate © 2022 William Ford II (ChaoticTempleKnight)

[just6f]

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[goldenheartgirl1]

Rose and Marigold Ch.5- No Rose is Replaceable

There were many things that transpired in the next couple years, now being the year 1774 things had changed for the better and both Oscar and Marigold were 19. Marigold would most of the time be at the mansion of Jarjayes, but Marie was always asking her to sing at parties so she had to split time between places. Wherever Oscar went, Marigold was most certain to follow, and it gave great comfort to Oscar when the redhead spent time with the princess or Mrs. Jarjayes. However, there was constant tension between Marie and Madame Du Barry, which Marigold tried to avoid at all costs especially when Oscar told her that the woman tried to poison Mrs. Jarjayes. While singing at the parties was entertaining, Marigold would enjoy it most when she spent time taking care of the horses with André or fencing with Oscar. When night would come, Oscar and Marigold would share the room together no matter if that was at the house or in Versailles, sometimes it was a casual night and other times it was filled with passion, either way both were always satisfied.

One particular night there was a raging storm outside, and a particularly loud crash of thunder woke Oscar up, she shot up in bed and looked out the window. She carefully got up and closed the curtains before walking back to the bed and laying down beside the nude body of Marigold, the redhead was not fond of wearing anything to bed, not that Oscar complained. However she noticed a whimper and twitching from the body beside her and gently turned Marigold towards her. “Marigold? Marigold, wake up.”

The woman with hazel eyes snapped awake, her forehead wet with sweat and her breathing frantic, she practically lunged at Oscar to hug her and the guard was quick to hold her. “Marigold? Did you have another nightmare?”

“Y-yes, but it was different,” The redhead panted breathlessly, shaking a bit as Oscar helped her lay back down. “I was being hurt, constantly, no matter how many times I told them to stop-”

“Who?” Blue eyes narrowed at the idea that maybe there was finally an answer after four years of memory loss.

“I-I don’t know, I just..I kept calling them Osmont and Pol..I-I can’t remember-”

Seeing the distress coming from her lover, Oscar gently kissed her forehead and hushed her. “It’s alright, try to sleep, no one is ever going to hurt you. I swear my life to that.”

“You can’t swear your life to two people, Oscar, it’s not possible..” Marigold whimpered but overall was calming down.

“I can, and I have. Now, get some sleep.”

Taking a couple soothing breaths and with Oscar petting her hair, Marigold fell back asleep and Oscar stayed up a little longer to make sure she was sleeping before falling asleep herself. When morning came, both woke up early and prepared for their days, Oscar was of course going to be with the queen while Marigold wanted to help shop for supplies in the city. The redhead felt useless only being there for parties and insisted on working for money there, therefore she became an errand runner for the princess. Most of the time the tasks would be delivering letters, shopping for supplies, or days like these where a few servants would go into town to purchase kitchen needs. Oscar gave a farewell kiss to Marigold before leaving the room, the redhead leaving minutes later to avoid people as a precaution, then hurried to the kitchen where the maids were already waiting.

“Miss Marigold! We were waiting for you.” One of the older women, Ele, scolded a bit while walking with Marigold to the carriage that was waiting.

“You always arrive right as we’re about to leave,” The younger maid, her name being Cecile who was at the age of 15, spoke in a teasing manner. “Let me guess, it was because of your brother or Lady Oscar?”

“Lady Oscar needed someone to talk to this morning.” Marigold shrugged off, getting into the carriage with them and looking out the side as they rode. “I assume we have a lot to gather?”

“Oh yes, there is much to get, so we must hurry.” Ele replied, fixing her dark brown hair under the bonnet she wore. “And this time do not be late back to the carriage.”

“Last time was not my fault,” Red hair swayed as the hazel eyes looked to Ele. “The young boy was lost, and he was hungry, how could I leave him hungry and confused?”

“He was none of your concern, you can’t be too careful, they might rob you.”

“They?” Marigold questioned indignantly, narrowing her eyes a bit. “They are French people, they are our people. People who are hungry and cold.”

“And they should work if they wish to eat.” Ele huffed before feeling the carriage slow down and ordered the two girls. “Both of you work on the list I have given to Cecile, remember to meet back here at noon.”

“Yes Ele.” Cecile replied, climbing out of the carriage with Marigold following her, the carriage rode off again and Marigold let out a hiss.

“That woman, it’s like she has no compassion at all..”

“W-well, she does make a good point, the lives of the poor are not really lives to concern yourself with..” Cecile muttered softly and walked with Marigold to the first shop.

“Tell me Cecile, do you know what happens to a garden if you do not concern yourself with weeding?”

“U-um, the garden gets really bushy and overgrown?”

“It dies, the weeds sprout up and cover the beautiful seedlings from sunlight,” Marigold explained calmly but with passion all the same. “Then once one weed kills a plant it makes offspring that continue to kill until all beautiful flowers die except the ones high enough to escape the invasive weeds. We should not ignore those that work to keep us fed and help us build France to its glory.”

Cecile was stunned by the words coming from the red haired beauty and nodded her head a little. “I-I had not thought of it like that..I apologize.”

“There is nothing to apologize for, I just hope you’ve opened your eyes.” Marigold replied softly before taking the list and looking it over. “Alright, bread shop first.”

The two made their trek through Paris, keeping the visits as short as possible between stores and Marigold looked at the list with bewilderment. Did it really take this much food to feed the guests they have? Some of the things listed were never eaten or never finished. Suddenly there was a shriek in the crowd and someone yelling. “Thief! That girl stole my money!”

“Cecile! Take over!”

Marigold did not even let Cecile respond as she ran down the street after the runaway woman, the redhead was not exactly good at hiding because of her hair but she certainly was fast. The woman in front of her was wearing an old muddy blue dress and had the complexion of those that lived in the slums, once Marigold got close enough she managed to tackle the woman down. The coins she stole scattered onto the stone path and hazel eyes narrowed at the woman, but then she noticed how sunken in her face was and how thin her body was, if Marigold was not careful she could have really hurt this woman. The woman cowered under her and pleaded with her teary eyes.

“P-please I need to feed my daughter! It was nothing personal!”

Marigold felt her heart sink and she got up, collecting the money that was stolen before looking at the weeping woman that was too weak to even stand. A frown graced the redhead’s face as she helped the woman up and said softly. “Enough crying, I will not send you to your doom. But I must ask, how old is your daughter?”

“S-seven, please I just need a little money just to buy some broth..”

Thinking a bit, Marigold kept the money that was stolen but instead took out her own coins from her pockets. “I do not have much, but hopefully it will help you. Take these, feed yourself and your daughter.”

The woman held her hand out and gasped when four gold livre’s were dropped into her hand. Marigold smiled at her and spoke calmly. “I hope this is enough for now.”

“I-it’s more than enough, oh thank you! Thank you so much!”

“You’re welcome, good luck.” Marigold replied, walking past the woman and trying not to shed her own tears.

She quickly returned to Cecile and the person that was stolen from, handing back the coin bag without a word before dragging Cecile along to continue shopping. If Marigold had all the money in the world she would give it all to those that were hungry, but she had no such money. Although she couldn’t remember her life previously, whether she was born in France or not, these were her people. She needs to request an audience with the king, something needs to be done. After they had gotten the rest of what they needed, Cecile and Marigold met with Ele and they rode back to the palace, the redhead was silent the entire time on their way back. Soon as the carriage stopped, all three of them were shocked by the number of people inside Versailles. There was not a single room that was not crowded, whispers echoed all around which greatly worried Marigold and she heard a faint whisper from one of the men.

“His majesty’s condition might get worse..”

His majesty? Marigold’s heart pounded in worry and she took off towards the king chamber, even more worried when she noticed the amounts of doctors near the doors and a frantic Madame Du Barry. All the whispers around them kept talking about his Majesty’s health and Marigold hurried to find Marie and the prince. She did not get too far before André stopped her and she asked in a frantic state. “André! What has happened to the king?”

“He collapsed while hunting, come, Oscar told me to take you back to the house.”

“W-what? But André`-”

“We will see her later, trust me the king will be alright.”

Marigold did not argue as her self proclaimed brother took her to the stables to retrieve their horses. According to André, no one truly knew the king’s condition so it was possible he could make a recovery, but those words did not ease her at all. The redhead waited patiently late into the night for Oscar, but found herself falling asleep before she could greet Oscar and by the time she had awoken there was news from Versailles that the king had smallpox. Even though Marigold wanted to go check on the princess and prince, André insisted she stayed home in fear that she might get sick as well. In an attempt to hide her worries, Marigold worked hard alongside Nanny to ignore the world around her, yet she could not stop the sad humming from her throat that day. Eleven days passed slowly, but on the evening of the eleventh day Marigold was outside in the garden doing some weeding, and when she looked up for a second she noticed a rider in the distance of where the sun was setting. Covered in dirt and sweat did not stop Marigold from running towards the commander in white, she called out to her lover with worry.

“Oscar!”

No sooner had she called the name that the horse sped up and halted right beside Marigold, but a grieving expression was left on Oscar’s face. Frowning but not saying a word, Marigold took Oscar’s offered hand and climbed up to sit in front of Oscar, the royal guard smacking the reins lightly to send her steed off to the stables. Once arriving, Marigold and Oscar climbed down and looked at each other with their eyes aglow from the sunset. The blonde pulled the redhead in for a tight hug, to which Marigold accepted happily but asked softly. “Oscar? What has happened?”

“The king..he is dead. Soon Marie and the prince will be the next rulers. But those nobles, those in court-!” Oscar’s voice boiled into outrage as she explained. “They all are greedy! As soon as their king died all they looked to was the royal couple with smiles and wished them a long life to come. They only care about their standing with them now, it is disgusting!”

“Oscar..” Marigold mused calmly, pulling back a bit and pecking the blonde’s lips. “It is not fair to them, but hopefully they will know better and grow to be wonderful leaders of France. You must try to believe things will get better.”

Her words seemed to alleviate some of the frustration Oscar felt, the royal guard collected herself and gave a kiss in return before mumbling. “Marigold, I do not know how I could live without your words..they are filled with such hope.”

“Come now, let's get you some food then get some sleep.”

The next morning came uneventfully, all of the royal family was grieving which resulted in Oscar receiving the day off to rest. Oscar laid in her bed while Marigold laid beside her and gently brushed the blonde locks with her fingers, in a sudden moment a gasp left the redhead when Oscar’s face hid in her chest. This only endeared Marigold and she commented softly. “Oscar, as much as I would love to lay in bed all day with you, we should get up and eat at least.”

“I do not wish to today.”

“You are not skipping out on eating.”

Sapphire eyes looked up at the hazel one’s in a challenge, Marigold knew this was going to be a difficult morning. Quickly the redhead threw the covers over Oscar’s head and made a turn to try and get out of the bed, the guard however saw through her trick and wrapped both arms around the smaller woman and heaved her back into the bed, the two shook with mirth as they wrestled with each other. Finally, and almost as always, Oscar pinned the redhead down and smiled at the giggling woman. Marigold looked up with fondness at the blue eyed woman who claimed to be a man, then she challenged softly. “You have me, what do you plan to do?”

“Who says I am planning anything?”

“I say, judging by the grip you have on my arms.”

“Well, perhaps keeping you as my hostage will convince you to stay with me all morning.”

“Oscar!” Marigold squeaked and her face blushed red as the woman above her kissed at her neck. “Have some control, we cannot let the others find out..”

“They have not found out in years, what makes you think they will now?” Oscar mumbled, taking a moment to bite into the collarbone of her lover, who moaned softly from the touch.

Marigold did her best to hide any moans she had, this kind of attention was not uncommon between them but it did still make Marigold writhe in excitement. After leaving a red mark on her skin, Oscar leaned back and watched the woman in thought, slowly she made a move to remove her sleep shirt which surprised the hazel eyed one. A majority of their affection was in the variety of kisses they had shared, but never had Oscar been comfortable enough to be naked with Marigold. Both of their hearts pounded loudly in their toned bodies, slowly Oscar moved down again and kissed Marigold passionately while allowing their bodies to make contact again. The red haired woman was always respectful to Oscar’s wish to be a man, but Marigold knew it was just fear of being seen as a delicate woman that had no place beside the powerful men that ran this country. No matter how afraid Oscar was, Marigold wanted to be beside her, and having her lover remove her shirt was a first step to acknowledgement. While she wanted the kiss to last, Marigold slowly pulled away for air and asked. “O-Oscar, what is the occasion-”

Oscar swooped down again to capture her lips, pressing hard to Marigold’s and sliding her tongue against the lining of her lover’s lips, to which the redhead granted her entrance without hesitation. Their tongues met in their own fencing match but it was no surprise when Oscar managed to win by pinning the other tongue down and exploring Marigold’s mouth with fervor. Hazel eyes closed as she tried to focus on breathing, but with Oscar’s insistent conquest of her mouth it became difficult to even try to breathe and her head felt like it was spinning from the lack of air. Fortunately, Oscar finally ran out of breath herself and pulled away, leaving Marigold gasping and pink in the face as they both captured as much air as they could manage.

The blonde woman smiled at the woman below her but then asked a very peculiar question. “Marigold, will you always love me, even if I cannot provide you with the same pleasure as a man?”

It took a second for Marigold to piece together the words that were just asked, when she managed to figure out the question she only smiled back and replied. “My answer is still the same as it was three years ago, whether you are man or woman I will never stop loving you. I do not need the pleasure physically, all I need is you beside me.”

Oscar’s heart swelled at the reassurance and kissed her once again, this time slower and gently as she held Marigold in her arms. How could she have been blessed with someone so understanding? What good deeds granted this beautiful woman to her home and heart? Guilt had once consumed Oscar’s mind that she could not provide all that Marigold wanted, but hearing Marigold say that she did not even need pleasure to be happy made Oscar certain this woman was the only one for her. Soon the kiss was broken again and Marigold smirked at Oscar before flipping them around so Oscar’s back was to the bed, the redhead quickly got up and began to dress into her pants and shirt.

“Enough of that now, come on, I want to do more fencing!”

Sapphire eyes watched lovingly at Marigold’s supple form, and she stood up to get dressed as well, the two making side remarks about what they should do for the day. Following Marigold’s wish, they went outside and drew their swords to duel while food was being prepared for them. Their swords clashed with sharp clangs and wind-cut swipes, the two falling into a dance of their sport while André watched from the stables. Soon he decided to join and the three participated in a three person duel for fun. Marigold was not as good as André or Oscar, but they managed to all have their share of challenges.

The year rolled by and before anyone could really process it, the new king and queen had been named, Marigold was not present for the ceremony but she sang at the ball that night. 1775 and both Oscar and Marigold were now 20 years old, women of importance and their names known to many for their interesting life choices. Memories of the redhead were still scarce, her nightmares as harsh as ever without any solid evidence, but she did her best to push past these worries. After singing a couple songs, Marigold walked through the crowd and looked at Oscar tiredly, the commander also looked finished for the night and they mutually nodded that it was time to leave. They collected André and all decided to go out tonight for their own celebration, taking one of the red carriages for the nobles the three departed from Versailles towards the heart of France. André and Marigold joked around with each other as they sat on the same seat, while Oscar just watched them with a smile, but the carriage’s rattling was loud but the voice of a woman outside was louder as she called to them.

“Master!”

Oscar immediately asked for the carriage to stop and all three carriage companions looked out in curiosity. There was a lovely young maiden with a purple dress and blonde hair that was tied back with a ribbon, Marigold’s heart froze from how tired this girl looked. The girl had her hands clasped together as she nervously looked at Oscar and pleaded.

“U-um, please-please buy me for one night!”

This question was enough to stun André into silence while Oscar tried to hide a chuckle, but soon after the blonde began laughing loudly and Marigold scolded a bit. “Oscar!”

“This is hilarious!” Oscar finally cleared her throat and looked at the young girl with a smile. “Hey, hey, don’t get me wrong. I’m a woman. Even if it was for free, I won’t be able to buy you.”

Not to the girl's knowledge of course, Oscar flashed a smile to Marigold and the redhead only shook her head with a small smile playing on her lips. Soon the girl dropped and began to sob loudly, causing Oscar and Marigold to step out of the carriage, the hazel eyed woman hushed her softly and rubbed the girls back. “Now, now, do not cry so much. What is your name?”

“R-rosaline!”

“Such a lovely name, I am Marigold. Why would you try to give yourself away?”

“My mother is sick..” Rosaline hiccuped through her tears. “But I can’t find a job..so..”

Oscar frowned a bit as she glanced back at André, the man was equally upset by the development of such a young girl forcing herself to prostitution just to live. Marigold’s heart bled for this girl and the royal guard took out a single gold livre from her pocket, the three friends did not bring much money with them so it was all that could be spared. Marigold smiled at Oscar, standing up as she walked back into the carriage while Oscar handed the girl the coin before warning her not to do something stupid like that again. They left, but all of them had the same thought as the carriage rode off through the sleepy city.

“I knew things were bad,” Marigold said, leaning against André with a sad tone echoing out of her words. “I have already given most of my money to those I see at the point of collapsing, but it’s never enough..”

“I cannot believe how poor the people have become.” André chimed in, rubbing Marigold’s back as he expressed his concern. “I barely go into the city but I've been hearing rumors about the slums.”

“If I could give everyone a job, home, or money, I would.”

Oscar frowned at Marigold’s words, the woman’s heart was big enough to hold all of France, but she did lack the wealth or influence needed to provide the people with a new life. Perhaps in another time Marigold was a queen as well, a woman that held the sick, old, and dying in her arms as a mother would. The blonde started to wonder how bad the situation had become with money, afterall when the old king was alive he spent a lot of France’s taxes on Madame Du Barry. All three hoped that the new king and queen would be able to save these people from their dreaded fates. Time from then on seemed to pass slower, the next day Oscar was promoted to High Commander but refused the gifts and raise that Marie Antoniette offered to her friend.

Marigold of course was proud of Oscar’s decision, but only wished that others could see why the blonde commander turned down these gifts. Marie was of their age but still thought like a child, easily worrying the redhead about the future of France. That night, Oscar encouraged Marigold not to think of France, for that was the job of their highnesses now. But Marigold was unconvinced, how could the people be saved if the king was still grieving and the queen was too careless with her decisions? No matter how many words Oscar said, or how passionate her hold was that night, the redhead’s mind was still heavy with worry and fear for their country. It was then that Marigold made a decision of her own, one that could get her into serious trouble if she was not careful, but she would be careful if it meant protecting Oscar and the people in France.

[travonfeng]

How to shift midlife weight gain for good

“Middle-aged spread is a myth!” screamed headlines last year, after a study by an international team of researchers revealed that the body’s metabolism doesn’t actually slow down until we reach our 60s.

But while science might say one thing, millions of people in their 40s and 50s contemplating their own widening waistlines would argue otherwise.

For men, a thicker waist tends to present as a “beer belly”, thought to be because men are more predisposed to visceral fat – fat wrapped around the organs – which pushes the abdomen outwards and feels hard to the touch. Women tend towards all-round thickening, thanks to subcutaneous fat that sits directly under the skin and feels softer.

Either way, as a high waist measurement is correlated with an increased risk of type 2 diabetes and heart disease, it’s something we should all worry about. (Quick tip: if the circumference of your waist is more than half your height, that counts as high.)

But if our rate of metabolism – how fast the body burns calories – can’t be held responsible for a widening waist as we age, what can? And, crucially, is there anything we can do about it?

With the help of experts, we’ve identified five reasons your stomach might be less svelte now than in your youth – and what you can do to regain your waist.

The problem: You have less diversity in your gut bacteria The role and effect of the bacteria in our gut is at the cutting edge of diet science at the moment, and research is now pointing to the fact that our gut microbiome changes as we get older, says Emma Bardwell, a registered nutritionist and women’s health specialist (emmabardwell.com).

“Diversity of certain species and strains depletes with age, and having low levels of bacteria such as Akkermansia muciniphila has been associated with obesity, diabetes, inflammation and metabolic disorders.”

The Solution “Focus on diversifying your microflora,” says Bardwell. “Forget expensive probiotic supplements: I’d advise starting to increase the amount of plant fibre in your diet. Research shows an association between increased gut diversity and eating at least 30 different types of plant foods a week – not just fruit and veg; it includes wholegrains, nuts, seeds, herbs and spices.

“Don’t fret too much over numbers, though: aim for a plant-focused diet (it doesn’t have to be vegan, by any stretch) and just try to add in some variety, so you’re not eating the same plant foods each day.”

The problem: You have less muscle mass than you used to “While last year’s study showed that metabolism doesn’t slow until after the age of 60, what the study didn’t account for is loss of muscle mass,” says nutritionist Emma Bardwell. “We lose 1-2 per cent a year from our 30s onwards. It’s imperceptible perhaps at 35, but by 50 we’re starting to really notice it, especially around the waistline.

“Muscle is metabolically active [meaning it uses up calories], so it plays a role in keeping us in shape; muscle loss – sarcopenia – means a small reduction in metabolism, possibly 100-200 calories a day. This might not sound like a lot, but overconsuming, day in, day out, will lead to weight gain.

“Couple that with the fact that we tend to move less as we get older and you can see the problem.”

The Solution Keep an eye on your portion sizes and avoid snacking. Yes, your general diet is more important than the fact that the amount of calories going in needs to be equal to, or fewer than, the amount of calories going out to avoid gaining weight.

But, as Bardwell explains: “We’re a nation of snackers. If you eat proper, filling, satiating meals, you’ll keep blood-glucose levels steady and avoid crashes and dips in energy that inevitably leave us reaching for ultra-processed quick energy fixes.”

Just as importantly, try to integrate calorie-burning activity into your day that isn’t organised exercise: take the stairs instead of the lift, walk to the shops, do gardening and housework. And when you do work out, choose exercises that will help build muscle.

The NHS recommends you do at least two muscle-strengthening sessions every week. The more muscle mass you have, the more calories it will burn, but gaining it doesn’t have to mean pumping iron: sit-ups, push-ups, lunges and squats all strengthen muscles, as do yoga, pilates and tai-chi.

The problem: You’re stressed Of course you are stressed – we’re all stressed – but whether it’s a job, raising children or dealing with elderly parents, stress tends to hit a peak in our middle years.

Chronic levels of stress send the hormone cortisol – associated with fat deposition around the middle – into overdrive, and that can be compounded by self-medication through comfort eating and alcohol.

The Solution It’s not a revolutionary approach, but it works: if you cannot avoid stress, instead find ways to mitigate its effects. That means making sure you are getting enough sleep, and trying anything else that helps to get your brain back in balance, such as mindfulness, meditation or yoga.

The problem: You’ve hit the menopause For women, all of the above is compounded by the hormonal shift that happens in middle age. “In menopause, women are dealing with side effects such as poor sleep, bladder weakness and low self-esteem, which can affect appetite and the motivation to exercise,” says women’s health specialist Emma Bardwell.

“That’s because insomnia raises levels of ghrelin and lowers leptin, meaning we’re hungrier and find it harder to feel satiated.”

The decline in oestrogen levels means that women tend to shift from a traditional “pear” shape (nipped in waist and fat stored on the bottom, thighs and breasts) to more of an “apple” shape (rounder through the middle). And, says Bardwell, this drop in oestrogen can also make it hard to shift the pounds.

“Fat cells produce a little oestrogen and as your body wants to hold onto as much oestrogen as it can at this time, it can feel much harder to lose weight.”

The Solution For many women, HRT, which replaces the hormones that are naturally lost, is a great solution. And when it comes to weight and where fat is stored, it’s certainly effective.

One study found BMI was significantly higher in peri- and post-menopausal women than in those yet to reach menopause, but also discovered that women taking HRT had similar levels of fat and fat distribution to premenopausal women.

While the balance of oestrogen and progesterone is often the focus when dealing with menopause , the balance of another hormone, insulin, is often overlooked, points out Dr Estrelita van Rensburg, founder of health company WellnessEQ (wellnesseq.net) and author of Eat Well or Die Slowly.

“Carbohydrate-rich diets that are typical in the Western world can lead to high levels of insulin and subsequently insulin resistance. And there’s evidence that insulin resistance can exacerbate menopause symptoms, such as fatigue, headaches, brain fog and muscle weakness.”

The problem: Your diet is starting to catch up with you “Food consists of carbohydrates, proteins and fats, and the body’s hormonal response, specifically the way insulin responds, to each of these is different,” says Dr van Rensburg. “Insulin’s role is to take glucose out of our bloodstream and effectively open the door to our cells so that the glucose can be used to generate energy. And carbohydrates raise insulin levels much more than proteins or fats.”

Visit shopping bag printing homepage for more details.

The issue is that if you’ve been eating a relatively high-carb diet throughout your life, your body will have been running on high levels of insulin and, over time, the cells stop responding: a process known as insulin resistance. But that glucose has to go somewhere, so if the cells won’t take it, the body stores it as fat – generally in and around the abdominal area.

The Solution Overhaul your diet. It is possible to reverse insulin resistance through a combination of diet, exercise and weight loss – and there are no quick and easy fixes. It’s the same dietary advice you will have heard before: cut out processed foods and avoid simple sugars and starchy carbs.

But don’t worry that you’re going to feel hungry. “Once you start eating good protein and fat, you’ll find it’s very satiating,” says van Rensburg. “It doesn’t drive you to eat more in the way sugar and starch keeps you feeling hungry [because sugar and starch cause blood-sugar peaks and troughs].”

[insert-game]

i hate cars on god

[mooncakesofpan]

eddie x reader x gareth !!! i beg !!! i need them

Crashed Dnd Nights

Eddie Munson x Gn!Reader x Gareth Emerson

Summary: A late night of dnd before a day of movies

A/n: this might be bad I'm apologizing right now I'm still getting used to writing both Gareth and Eddie, this is also a semi-fix if fic and happens a year after Vecna where Gareth is senior and 18 the reader is a year older than him at 19 and Eddie is 22.

Warnings: strong language, fluff, Mentions of Vecna, they/ them pronouns 

Word Count: 1K

Stranger things Masterlist | Main Masterlist 

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK

You were finally off work for the Friday night leaving your job to go to the 7/11 you browse the aisles for m&m’s for Eddie and gummy worms for Gareth. While in the almost empty convenient store you decide that you might as well get a Slurpee grabbing a cup and filling it up mixing the flavors and heading to the front grabbing a case of Dr. Pepper.

Getting to the register you talked to Ms. Darner the nice old lady who worked there on Friday nights.

“Hello Y/n late night,” she said cheerily.

“yeah finally got this Saturday off,” you say as she scans your items.

“That's good dear bringing this to your boyfriend?” she always assumed you had one which you don't blame her most people had thought you were with Eddie and you don't blame her while Gareth was at school finishing his senior year you and Eddie would be seen together. 

“Yeah we’re having a movie night tomorrow,” you say grabbing your wallet.

“Ah well I hope you have a good day off,” she replies smiling at you.

“Thank you,” you grabbed the bag and started leaving the 7/11.

The quick shopping run left you to think about what would have happened if Eddie hadn't survived the events of senior year and what would you be doing now. The dark thinking causes you to shake your head preferring not to think about what could have happened if Steve Nancy and Robin hadn't killed Vecna.

you arrive after 20 mins of driving from the convenience store. getting out of your truck with the paper bags making your way threw the door struggling with the bags in your arms

“With your current findings, the body of the mysterious magic user you had talked to earlier. You can either mention it to the rest of the party or allow them to continue,” Eddie's voice with an eerie tone fills your ears.

“Do I gain anything from telling them,” Erica said ”I don't know! us knowing about a dead body” Gareth said from the front of the table.

Eddie’s eyes follow you threw the door. the convo between the senior and middle schooler

“Hi Y/n,” they both said

“hey, guys don't mind me continuing with your session,” you say smiling at the group trying to juggle bags and a Slurpee and putting the cans in the fridge.

 Grabbing the last can of Dr. Pepper you go over to the table set up in the living room of the trailer. you grab the mountain dew sat in front of Gareth and replace it with Dr. Pepper. making him look up and smile and look at you. You give him a quick peck and move over to Eddie and place the can of mountain dew over in front of him while also grabbing the empty cans you go to walk away before Eddie grabs your arm leaning up to press his lips to yours softly it was quick but still filled with passion.

Gareth continued arguing about the morality of leading the group to possible death.

“Technically you don't know shit cause I'm not gonna tell the group we’ll probably be fine anyway,” leaving Gareth to glare at the girl from across the table.

You threw the cans away and looked for the Oreos you left at Eddies hoping that they would still be there looking in the hiding spot you left them finding them to be gone. you were surely going to bring it up to Eddie later. Your sure he probably ate them while high and having the munchies? You sat on the moved couch watching the session go on for about another hour before some of the younger kids had to be taken home.

“Do you guys need a ride,” you said with a yawn. getting up and stretching.

“No we biked here well just bike home,” Mike said 

The idea of that happening didn't sit well with you knowing how weird Hawkins could be at night people tending to go missing even tho Vecna was dead the anxiety did sit well in your stomach “why don't you put them in the back truck I can drive you home.” you said your voice laced with exhaustion.

“I can make sure they get some” Jeff offered probably able to tell you were tired from work.

Your willing to agree with that everyone leaving you saying bye to them as you close and lock the door as Eddie cleans the table and puts it away helping you move the couch. 

“So how was work,” he asked looking over at you as you move across the room to him.

 Leaving you to let out an exhausted grown into his shoulder as you wrap your arms around his waist 

“It was interesting got some orders for some cakes with like peoples odd ass names or sayings” you mumbled into his shoulder from behind. Gareth was changing into some pj’s

“If I see another Karen I'm going to scream,” you said leaving Eddie to laugh.

“I mean like half the moms here are named Karen,” Eddie said

“Trust me I know,” as you were talking to Eddie, Gareth came out of the bathroom in some red plaid PJ bottoms and a grey shirt.

“Gar did you pick up the movies for tomorrow” 

“Sure did, all ready for tomorrow ” you let go of Eddie to wrap your arms around Gareth kissing him sweetly fingers grazing his sides

“Well see what you picked out tomorrow… you didn't choose only horror movies right?” you say after pulling away

“….”

“Right?” the shorter brown haired didn't answer simply looking at you with his lips pressed to a thin line not looking you in the eye

you let out a sigh “it's fine I kinda expected that would happen” you give a light chuckle kissing his cheek

“Okay I'm honestly exhausted and unless you two want me to drop dead right here then, let's head to be” Eddie made sure to lock the doors and turn the lights off as you and Gareth head to his bedroom. you laid down arms wrapped around Gareth and in his hair messaging his scalp as Eddie came in tried to quickly change and lay down and wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your shoulder, the feeling of closeness between the 3 of you was comforting

“I love you both” left your mouth before falling asleep.

[mostlybarnes]

It’s My Party, You’re Not Invited (Part Two)

Summary: The morning after Bucky threw a party, you confront him but it doesn’t go according to plan.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: more angst, arguing, Bucky is an asshole, language, not proof read, mistakes are my own!

Words: 1,567

Author’s Notes: Wow. I absolutely can not believe the support on part one! I’m so happy you guys liked it, and of course I’m always happy to give people what they want and since so many of you asked for part two, here it is! Really hope you won’t be disappointed, please let me know what you think. And don’t worry, there WILL be a part three. This isn’t the end!!

As you had predicted, you got no sleep. Your night consisted of you tossing and turning and occasionally groaning loudly into your pillow.

Your pillow was your closest friend, it captured your falling tears, and provided you with comfort when you couldn’t rest. The morning sun was pouring through your parted drapes, a new day was beginning and you knew you definitely wouldn’t be getting any sleep now.

Lazily, you threw the blankets off of you and sat on the edge of your bed, your palms on either side of you, digging into the mattress. Bucky not inviting you to his party shouldn’t have bothered you, but for some reason, it did. It was the reason you got no sleep, and you were annoyed by how Nat and your friends treated you last night. They were laughing and you couldn’t help but feel like they were laughing at you, even if they weren’t. Today would be the day you would confront Bucky, no matter what. But first, you needed a hot shower to try and wash away the tension that was rolling off your shoulders.

The shower itself would have taken a good ten minutes on a good day, but you spent almost an hour on the shower floor with your knees tucked under your chin and fresh tears disappearing under the shower head. Pathetic, you told yourself. Crying over something that wasn’t even your fault. How dare he treat you this way and make you feel broken. Speak of the devil, through the sounds of your cries and the water cascading down around you, your thoughts snapped back to reality when you heard his laugh from the hallway again.

Enough was enough with his games, you needed to know why you didn’t get an invite, it was just a simple little question.

Standing up off the shower floor with shaky legs, you turned off the shower and stepped out to grab the towel off the rail and pat yourself dry. In your haste to get dressed, your clothes were mismatched and your sweater was turned inside out. You didn’t care about that though, you needed to speak with Bucky. You needed answers.

You left your room and followed the sounds of the chatter coming from the common room. Your feet quickly carried you there, stopping in the doorway and noticing the room was completely trashed from last night’s shenanigans.

Broken glass was scattered over the marble floors, there were literally hundreds of solo cups all over the tables, there was even a broken window.

What the hell happened here? You wondered, stepping into the room, being careful not to tread on glass.

“Watch your feet!” Bucky warned, holding his hands up to halt your footsteps. “There’s glass everywhere.”

“No shit.” You scoffed, folding your arms across your chest and rolling your eyes. You heard him click his tongue as he worked on sweeping up the glass. “I heard you had a party?”

“Uh yeah, just some close friends and stuff.” He shrugged, and ouch if that didn’t fucking hurt.

“Really? I didn’t know you were– were close friends with people from…. statistics?” Anger was rushing through your veins, his nonchalant attitude wasn’t making this any easier and neither was the lack of sleep. You wondered what had happened to the sweet guy you knew. The shy Bucky who couldn’t even make himself a sandwich because he was afraid of being mocked by the other avengers. Or the Bucky that loved to sip herbal tea at 3 in the morning. Where did that Bucky go? Who is this Bucky? It was like a switch flipped and he changed overnight.

“What is this about, Y/N? You walk in here with some kind of an attitude problem and I’m tired, it’s early and I’m not in the mood.” He snapped and that was it for you. If he was tired, you were something else.

You stepped into the room regardless of the broken glass still all over the floor, not caring if any shards cut your feet as you stand toe to toe with Bucky. You shove him, but not surprised when he doesn’t budge.

“Where was my invite? What did I do to you to make you forget about me? It shouldn’t even be a big deal but–”

“Then stop making it a big deal! Is that what this is really about huh? It was my party and I invited the people I wanted to be there!”

“Wha– but you invited everyone but me!” You cried, your voice breaking at the end.

“Then maybe that tells you something.” He offers no sympathy to your state of distress. At least not to your face, it’s when you turn your back and he hears you cry harder does his own heart break. He didn’t mean for this to happen and the Black Widow’s footsteps behind him is about to remind him of his mistakes.

“You’ve really messed this up Barnes. I’m not sure Y/N will ever forgive you.” Bucky turns to look at Nat. Guilt and anger written all over his face.

“You don’t think I know that?! I did it to protect Y/N!”

“Well, what are you gonna do about it?”

“I don’t know.”

////

The day away from the compound was exactly what you needed. The air was refreshing and cold, biting against your skin. It helped to clear your thoughts that were running in circles since you talked to Bucky. You still didn’t have a clear answer as to why he chose not to invite you, and that bothered you more than anything, but what he did say replayed in your mind. You suppose he had a point, it was his party and up to him who he chose to invite but it confused you because you thought you were on good terms with Bucky. Did you get it wrong? Where did it all go wrong?

Your fingers wrapped around the mug as you sat in the corner of the quiet coffee shop with a friend as they watched you watch the world go by.

“Okay, what’s going on?” They asked, blowing into the hot liquid before taking a quick sip.

A deep sigh fell from between your lips. Your body and mind felt exhausted, it was hard to concentrate.

“I don’t even know. I feel like I’m overreacting.” You shrugged, licking your lips and looking into your coffee as if seeking the answers to your unanswered questions.

“Overreacting? Did something happen on the mission you just got back from?”

“No, no. Something that happened after that. You know Bucky, right?”

“Bucky Barnes?” They asked with a raised eyebrow. You nodded and swallowed the lump in your throat. “What about him?”

“I just– I– would you be honest with me and tell me if I’m overreacting?” You bit your lip nervously and your friend nodded.

“Of course! Tell me everything.”

True to their word, your friend sat and listened to every single word without interruptions or sassy remarks. They didn’t stop to ask you questions, and they didn’t make you feel pathetic like you felt. Talking about it out loud made you feel stupid, maybe it was stupid to get angry over something so small. That maybe deep down Bucky had a good reason not to invite you. Maybe you just weren’t close to him after all.

“I’m so stupid, aren’t I?” You shrugged, the wooden table becoming more of an interest.

“You’re not stupid. He’s stupid but I think he likes you.” Your head snapped up and so did your eyebrows.

“You’re insane! Didn’t you hear what I just said?”

“Of course I did!” They defended with a smirk, “and here’s what we’re gonna try.”

///

Your friend’s idea was so stupid and this dress was far too tight for your liking. You felt like your your body was spilling out at the seams, a complete opposite to what you were used to wearing: comfortable clothing or pajamas.

Walking in heels was another problem for you. Any second now, you were sure you were gonna have to call Dr Cho because you had somehow broken your neck. However, after a few laps around your room, you felt confident enough to walk a few blocks in them. Grabbing a purse and a jacket from your closet, you staggered out of your room and into Bucky’s chest.

“Whoa there, you alright?” He asked, pushing you away from him. He eyed you up and down, making you feel naked under his gaze.

“Why wouldn’t I be? And what are you doing here? Outside my door?” You folded your arms across your chest, big mistake as it pushed your cleavage together and with the height difference, Bucky had a pretty good view. He was a gentleman though and kept (or tried) to keep his eyes glued to your face.

“I came to apologize. Where are you going dressed like that?”

“It’s a bit late for an apology. I got your message loud and clear from this morning.” You scoffed. “And I’m going out with my real friends, not that it’s any of your damn business.”

“A party?” He wondered, his jaw clenching at the thought of you dancing with other people that weren’t him.

“Yes, and you’re not invited.” You smirked, turning on your heels and walking towards the waiting elevator, ignoring his calls of your name.

Bucky watched as the metal doors closed, his hands tugged his hair so hard he was afraid he would rip it out. He’s fucked up, Natasha was right. There was no way of fixing this.

“Fuck!” He yelled, kicking a hole in the wall next to your door.

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