#my first post using procreate and after a few months of working with it I’m satisfied with the result

[catacropolis]

Vil outfit design inspired by high fashion and chapter 5 Overblot design

Vil’s Overblot design reminds me a lot of a nuns habit so I wanted to bring in some recognizable themes such as candles, rosaries , gold detailing and such . For the face droplet mascara and tears meant to mirror crying Mary statues and such .

All this to say I wanted to design something based on these elements and while also being distinctly connected to vil.

I think it’s really interesting that Vil’s Overblot design is so reminiscent of nuns . The juxtaposition of vil who in the spotlight who is well known for his beauty , believing himself to be ugly , is dressed in what is considered to be “modest “ clothing covering himself from view .

Vil is an extremely interesting character coupled with his ob design being my favorite i love this part of his design .

It’s been a while since I’ve drawn vil and I missed it

[oneoftheprettynerds]

Belle Of The Ball: Dark! King! Steve Rogers x Reader

A/N: So this my first ever proper dark fic and I’m so nervous. I finished it but my mind thinks it’s garbage. so I’m gonna post this now when I’m feeling a random spurt of courage and am confident in my work. So here’s my masterpiece, cookies.

This is for Dark!MCU  Festive Fic swap hosted by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor  and @darkmcuficswap

My giftee is @hermesmaximoff Hope you enjoy it love!

Thanking @firefly-graphics for the dividers: both personalised and general.

There is also an amateur somewhat okay shitty poster I decided to make which is included at the end.  

WARNING: THIS IS A DARK FIC CONTAINING DUBIOUS CONSENT BORDERING NON-CON AND EXPLICIT SMUT. YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY. LOSS OF VIRGINITY, ABUSE OF AUTHORITY, BREEDING KINK ALSO PRESENT.

Summary: Invited to the Royal ball by the benevolent monarch, you could barely control your excitement to visit the Capital. While you were busy admiring his prosperous reign, King Steve was quite occupied getting enamoured by you. As you try to fulfil the King’s demands, secrets find their way out.

CHARACTERS + GENRE: DARK!STEVE ROGERS X READER, SUPERNATURAL STEVE ROGERS X READER (read to find out what), ROYAL AU, HALLOWEEN THEME (I tried for the request, hope you do like it)

King Steve Rogers invites the princes and the princesses of all Kingdoms, near and afar,

To celebrate his several years of reign.

He requests thy kind and noble presence

At the joyous regale

of his auspicious ball

On the thirty first of October,

after sundown, in His Majesty’s finest castle.

Challenging thy with the unique theme of

A Halloween Masquerade Ball,

The King expects exceptional indulgence from all.

 The Most Grandiose Halloween Celebration is being organised with the spookiest of events within.

Come here if you dare.

“We have been invited to a royal party! My day couldn’t have been better!” Your elder sister exclaimed, jumping quite unladylike in your chambers, as you went through the details of the venue. You chuckled at her antics, knowing rather well that she would be scolded if someone else was present. 

“Emma, Mother has to approve first. As Lady Ava always says, don’t count your chickens before they hatch.”

“As if mother would really decline an invite from the King, dear sister.” She rolled her eyes at you, not letting her enthusiasm die as you pondered over her words.

Your sister had a point though, the King summoning your presence was not to be taken lightly. The invitation came up handwritten in a scroll with the King’s wax seal atop it. It was placed elegantly beside a golden mask in a rectangular black box, that bore the Majesty’s sigil on the front.  

The theme of the ball wasn’t that peculiar if you reflected over it, the renowned monarch was also recognised for his distinct interest in eerie, unearthly beings. He was known for adventuring into haunted lands, mysterious manors and sinister soils, meeting up with people rumoured to be sorcerers and occultists.

Of course, the reason for his encounters was sometimes rumoured to be because of his familial distress, how he couldn’t find a mate to procreate with and conceive his own heir no matter what. Three females, who were pregnant with a progeny of his blood, none his wife though, had died during the first two or tercet months, reason unspecified why.  

Coming to You, you and your sister weren’t actual princesses, rather the daughters of one of the esteemed Ministers in the King’s cabinet. The benevolent King, however referred to the daughters of the town, more exactly, the Kingdom, as noblewomen. He held high reverence for the females and was the sole creditor to the improved condition of the women in this era. No matter how troubled his own life was, the King was the most merciful royal to be crowned to date, his people prospering under him.

Your sister nodded eagerly to your mother, drinking in her words like the fine tea you all had in the afternoons, while you just smiled at her advice.

 When you both met your mother for dinner, you were surprised to find her already informed about the invitation. Her conformity to the celebration astonished you even more, but Emma’s zeal was starting to rub off on you too by the end of the meal. 

Your mother continued, “Your father mentioned The Majesty is looking for a wife, quite possibly. He has been insistent in trying to get a successor the correct way this time, by courting the lady who piques his interest. Even though this might be a rumour, or some gossip spun by the ladies of the Cabinet, you both should try your best to be graceful and presentable. Among the hundreds of guests, he’d be having over, on the off-chance, if Gods allow, that either of you manages to entice him, it will only promise you the most pleasant of all forthcomings. It would also do me and your father some good, if you managed to find some other suitable bachelor, from a nice background to engage with.”

Your sister had always been one with the more overactive imagination out of you two, while you had been the more serene and poised one. When she’d be out playing with the children in your town, you’d be talking to the younger toddlers, drawing with chalks on the side. For every kid she splashed with water in the nearby sapphire river, you made tots flower crowns. These were the values you both grew up with, and these will be the values you’d die with.

After days of shopping velvet fabrics and silk textiles, and bothering your seamster to make sophisticated and stylish dresses, you both neared your day of departure. After some instructions to you both to represent your father and town well, your mother bid you adieu. It was nerve wracking to not have your mother by your side, for an event as big as this was, but since you both had passed more than twenty name days, you were expected to be proper, independent ladies. 

With a heavy heart and some self, positive affirmations, you and your sister embarked on the voyage, which was filled with her chitchat.

You only hoped that the gala was as exciting as your family made it out to be. That it was just a King trying to celebrate his sovereign with some western festival integrated together. That the event would not be as unnerving and creepy as the last line of his invitation made it out to be. 

For some unknown cause, it did not sit well with you. Your apprehensive intuition made you wary of the invitation for some reason, but you let your sibling’s zest take you over. What benefit would fretting get you?

The ball was far more pompous than anything you’d have imagined in your little head. All the ideas that Emma had come up with during your journey, to anticipate the extent of extravagance for the ball, were all exceeded with tenfold finesse. You had travelled to faraway, distant lands with your parents, but the King’s mansion, with all the festivity happening, was truly a sight to behold.

Entering The Capital had been the highlight of your excursion, you were sure earlier, but well you were proved wrong. Your father greeted you both when you had arrived, eager to see his angels after almost six moons, and had ensured you both got the best of the accommodations in the well-built, enormous fort. He introduced you to several of his comrades as well as their brooding, young lads and then, left you both to rest for the main event next eve. With two maids at your every beck and call, courtesy of your father, your time went smoothly and now you found yourself at the said Halloween themed celebration, staring around in awe of every little detail that had been so meticulously handled to make the event as dazzling as it was.

The servants were dressed rather ridiculously as cats, wearing some bizarre structure resembling cat ears, horribly short black dresses barely past their thighs and some whiskers draw using either coal or makeup, you weren’t sure. It was a poor attempt to make them appear feline. However, the food was as immaculate as everything else, entirely themed like only blood red wine, candied apples, chicken pumpkins, cheesecake brain, mummy muffins, some appetizer with bell peppers as jack-o-lanterns; these were the few that met your sights.

The hall was so grand, almost the size of three jousting arenas and playing fields combined with pillars having detailed architecture supporting the place. The walls were covered in scarlet, golden and black velvet drapes, the royal colours, and beautiful masquerade masks were pinned atop them, along the walls. Almost hundred round, white clothed tables filled the ballroom, with gold plated candlesticks and utensils upon them. The entire place had entertainers progressing around, the essence of it being magicians, clowns, contortionists, palm and tarot card readers. 

In the centre of the hall, was an empty space, reserved for the soon to be ensuing dancing. An orchestra on the side had beautiful instruments, playing soft melodies for now, reserving the upscale beats for later.

You had only read a few books on Halloween to be prepared but nothing could have geared you up for this. Your small-town self was gaping at everything with a childlike wonder while somehow your sister was quite composed and calm, somehow your roles had been reversed. 

Emma was wearing a blue gown, having several layers of nets and cloth, each a different shade of azure. She tried to dress as the mythical creature called mermaid, with crystal heels and a beaded neckline. Her masquerade mask had scales like fish, made using shining sequins. She looked so gorgeous, truly managing to look captivating.

You on the other hand were dressed like an angel, which you were against, finding it too mainstream and typical and wanted to dress like an enchantress with violet and jade colours, which your mother immediately negated. On demand of your sister, she let you wear a fluffy white ball gown, and had you made wings with dove feathers, an apparatus which was astonishingly light to wear. Using her art and craft skills, Emma made you a headband with two wires attached to a metal ring, shaped like an angel’s halo. The loop at top made of some special metal that glowed golden in the dark, making it look like a real, floating halo. Your mask had a fur lining on it, and silver sparkles were sprinkled all over you, with pretty makeup on your face, courtesy of your sibling.

The change in music brought you out of your reverie, as trumpets and harps began to hum, signifying the arrival of the King on the grand staircase. He had a crimson red velvet cape descending his broad shoulders, his tuxedo underneath could hide neither his long legs nor his bulging, protruding biceps. His black, shining shoes cost more than your entire apparel, you were certain. 

As your gaze ascended his masculine form, you were mesmerised furthermore with his high cheekbones, full lips tainted cherry pink, a Grecian slanting nose, sleek eyebrows, luscious blonde hair, a thick beard and the best of all yet, cerulean blue eyes, the prettiest you’d ever seen in the entirety of your small life. The ladies beside you, Emma included, had the same reaction whether they had witnessed his Highness before or not. Every female’s gaze seemed to flicker between his azure eyes and the Golden crown resting atop his blonde locks, flooded with rubies and emeralds and gemstones you weren’t sure your books had.

For a moment you felt his eyes land on you, which surprised you even more so, that you questioned yourself about it, but his cheeky grin and wink confirmed it, make you shiver involuntarily as heat spread through your face while a titillating stir ran through you, a first for you. His impeccably white teeth were clearly visible now, showing two elongated canines, which finally gave you a sense of his attire, paired with his blush lips, A Vampire.

He spoke a few words, eyes unsteadily wavering, observing different members of the gathering. He let the dances commence, partnering with his most suitable match at the festivity, the daughter of the wealthiest lord. After the first song was over, other couples joined alongside him while you stood at the side, observing everything. Only mere moments ago had your sister been courted by a young man, the two of them shooting each other coy glances since they had entered. 

A tap on your shoulder had you puzzled, you turned around focus landing on warm, brown eyes. You recalled him to be Lord Stark’s son, Peter, having met him yesterday at dawn. His familiar brown eyes gave you sense of comfort, which you liked, not being alongside Emma now.

“Shall we?” He asked, his cheeks ruby like yours were, as he extended the palm of his hand towards you. You giggled, smiling like a little babe who got extra cookies for dessert, and accepted his hand. Sauntering to the dancing arena, you only prayed to The Heavens above that Lady Ava taught you enough to embarrass neither yourself nor your guild.

Tracing his steps and following his lead, you did manage to dance without falling, which was a surprise seeing how spread out your wings were. You and him made easy conversation, about your hometowns and interests.  You saw your Father proudly looking at you and Emma, dancing with lads, you guessed, he approved of.

As the song ended and the orchestra played a transitioning tune between the melodies, a cough sounded beside you as you and Peter stopped. Your eyes widened as you nervously curtsied beside Peter, A ‘Your Majesty” falling from both your lips.

“If it’s not too much trouble, may I share a dance with the most stunning dame here?” 

Peter politely stepped back, letting go of your waist, as The King’s wide stature more than filled his place. Your heart was beating rather loudly, blood pumping to your ears as you tried to make sense of what was happening. In your peripheral vision you could see the prying eyes of others looking at you both, ready to criticize you for one wrong move. Your father watched intently, a slight warning in his eyes to not mess this opportunity up while your sister comfortingly smiled at you. You tried to even your breaths and make sense of what he was saying, to not just stand and gape like a fool in court.

As the harmony played out, he swayed you around, lifting you up and twirling you around. Compliments spewed out from his lips, making you crimson like freshly ripened apples. You couldn’t keep up with your expression of gratitude through your words as he admired your eyes, your elegance and your ensemble which just couldn’t make him shift his eyes from you. 

After two songs had played out, he left as suddenly as he had come, with a promise to meet you later. You watched him dance with other maidens, who approached him when you were dancing together, entertaining every approaching lady like an excellent host.

You made your way to the side, hoping to get some liquor, or at least some fluid in your veins and not faint right there this moment. Emma came up beside you while you were having wine, and rubbed your back in a parental way. Her eyes communicated her understanding of how overwhelmed you felt at the instant. Her date and Peter soon came and kept you both company for the rest of the night. As duos danced and people got intoxicated, you had to call it a night on behalf of your sister, her incessant giggling make you worried for her inebriated self. 

You slipped her out before your father caught her and gave her a stern talking to and tucked her in her bed keeping a glass of water and some fresh fruits for her on the bedside wooden bench. You concluded retiring for the night yourself but only after assuring your father of your whereabouts and well beings. Before returning to the hall, you took off your wings and the halo, also opting to leave the mask behind as the fur tickled your skin. Your makeup hadn’t ruined in the heat of the hall, it was a miracle. You made your way to the Hall, hoping to find your father, assumingly drunk with all his entourage.

Two hallways before the decorated ballroom were you pinned to the wall, one hand of your attacker covering your parted lips while the other held your face delicately, with a lover’s touch. A split second was all it took for you to be immobilised by this man and another by your wavering form to recognise the cobalt blue eyes and blonde curls. When The King was certain you wouldn’t scream, his hand left your mouth slid upwards, mirroring his other hand, with thumbs in front of your ears and palms resting on your cheeks.

“Your Majesty?” You mumbled back, your voice somehow even lower, afraid for yourself and even more so terrified to offend him.

“Say, would you come for a while to my chambers, the view of the creek from my balcony is splendid.”

His choice of words gave you an option, but his eyes, almost hypnotically told you there was only one correct answer.

“You are the one, I can feel it.” He whispered lowly but your heightened senses gladly picked it up.

You meekly nodded, your inner self surprised at your body moving of its accord alongside him, as your mind started voiding of thoughts like reporting to your father, checking up on Emma. You felt like you were trapped in someone else’s form and fought with an invisible force to take over the reins of your own body.

You did not fail to notice the lack of guards outside the King’s chamber and how every entrance managed to open itself. The King wasn’t lying about the picturesque scene though, as you stood in the balcony, hair getting ruffled by the strong breeze that seemingly came from nowhere.

Your body stiffened as King Steve came uncharacteristically close to you and slid his hands around your middle, his nose nestled in your locks, inhaling deeply.

His lips descended your neck, laying feathery kisses on his path as you stood there, unable to even move your hands or turn around. This out of body sensation was broken when you felt intense pain on piercing of your skin where your head met your torso. You suddenly gained all wits and enough strength to flail your limbs around but all your might wasn’t enough to even stir the man from his task. Your throat couldn’t gather enough energy to scream, though you doubted anyone would come. You started getting light headed and only then did he stop, carrying you in his arms to his widespread four poster bed, mattress as soft as sponge and sheets as silky as butter. Too weak to fight him off, you harvested all your energy in staying conscious as your gaze danced around, trying to make sense of every object present but not awake enough to notice too many details. The wine you drank did not make it any better.

As you laid on the stranger’s bed, you felt his body sit beside you, holding your neck; leaning down, his lips meeting yours for the first time. You did not reciprocate, neither did you have the strength nor the will, while his tongue slipped inside your mouth, roaming around like a traveller in foreign land.

As the kiss drew on, you felt some energy sidle inside you, enough for your mind to function again but not ample enough to fight off the brawny thief who robbed you of your first kiss. King Steve broke off the kiss and connected your foreheads together, his indigo eyes turning black in want, leaving you a frightening and gasping mess.

He backed away, sitting more straighter now as his hand drew back from around your neck and slid along your stomach, nearing the most intimate part of your body, even though there were still layers of cloth present. His hands did not stop there, however, and made their way downwards only stopping at the hem of your gown and slipping inside.

You shrieked out suddenly, becoming aware of his intentions quite late and grasped his wrist that rested now on your knee. 

“Your Majesty, I……I can’t-”

“Do you wish to refuse your King?”

You looked down, caught in the dilemma of wanting your safety and offending him once again. Your virtue had to be preserved till marriage, your mother had taught you, but on the other hand, the King’s words were the law.

“Answer Me.” The King’s cold voice broke through your thoughts, not a shout but still scarier than a yell.“

Your Majesty, I’ve never engaged in s-” You started tearing up, lower lip wobbling and body shaking at the thought of the future. You did not see this ending beneficial in any scenario. If you lost your virtue, you would never get wed but if you refused the King and he felt insulted, your family and your connections would be in the ruins, he held that much power over you.

Cradling your face with his other hand, he began again, “You think I’m not already aware, pretty one?” The man who was reprimanding you only few moments ago upon not answering him, had a smile on his face this time: not assuring or comforting, but malicious and sinister to its very core. “I could smell your untainted scent from my room, before even descending the stairs.”

“Your e-eyes..” You gaped again as colours morphed in his eyes, red now swirling around in the pools of darkness, his words lost on you as you felt your fear rising due to the inhumane action.

“For an intellectual, bibliophilic girl, you sure are oblivious, sweetheart.” He scoffed, looking unimpressed at you, “Come on, prove to me you aren’t heedless like the rest, draw the conclusion." His eyes held yours, again altering into hues of different colours, seemingly mocking you now. 

You don’t know how the thought jumped into your head, maybe because the two holes on your neck stung suddenly or because the automatically opening doors entered your mind, the contemplation that his fangs appeared so realistic and authentic the more you stared at them paired with the blood on his collar, not just the fresh red stain of your plasma but also the burgundy stain present there, giving his lips the cherry red shade you admired hours ago on his arrival at the event.

“This is not a co-costume, no-” You inhaled a quick breath, “you are a vampire.” Your face paled in realisation while he smirked proudly, tapping your knee in a weird, twisted form of appreciation.

“Tremendous, my dear. But only half, you see. My mother was one, yes, but my father, he gave me an even better ability, he was an Incubus.” You shuddered as the words sunk in, your only worry being staying alive now, when your life was in the hands of this sex demon, having the greatest of powers and strength. Your mind did not spend any time mulling over the existence of supernatural beings, only dwelling on possible escapes now.

“That is why even your untouched body couldn’t help but react to my form and it is also the very reason, that I can read what goes on in your mind, all your memories, your hobbies, every book you’ve read, your precious sister, Emma isn’t it? So please, do not even think about fleeing if you don’t want your family to suffer.”

The threat loomed in the air, nasty sobs wracking your body as his thumb came to wipe the tears off. His hands started undoing the lace on the front of your bodice as you sniffled. Managing to quieten down just a bit, you begged, “Please don’t do this, I’ll have nowhere to go if my family found about me partaking in this unholy deed before marriage.” You had little hope about him seeing reason but there was optimism nonetheless. 

“Darling, do not fuss that I’ll leave you unhinged and deserted after finding pleasure in your body, you are to be mine now. Essentially, you already are.” His lips claimed yours again as the front of your dress slackened, bundling around your waist.

You pulled back, surprised at his promise, “You mean that?” He nodded, coming to kiss you again. You turned so that his lips met your neck, tongue licking the salt residue of tears there. “In what sense?”

“In every sense you could think of and more. I’ll give you everything, make you my queen, would you like that?” He mumbled in your neck, tongue now soothing the two punctured cavities residing there.

You could feel yourself crossing your legs involuntarily, trying to caress the abrupt yearning in your intimate part, your underclothes dousing with wetness somehow. Steve smirked in your neck, sitting upright and playing his trump card.

“I’ll marry you and we’ll rule together with the plenty of successors you’ll give me. Won’t that make your parents proud? Isn’t that what your parents taught you? Catch the King’s eye?” You meekly nodded, his charisma of an Incubus winning you over. “I’ll make your father The King’s Hand and send your mother the finest of jewels and gems, satins and silks.” He looked over at your submissive form, looking at him with the innocence of a toddler, swayed by his promises.

“I’ll let your sister have a grand wedding with the man she dears. All you have to do is surrender yourself to me and be my Queen, rule alongside me. So I ask, will you?” You cut him off, your lips pressing against his as you tried to mimic his earlier movements. He held your waist, surprised but pleasantly so, crushing the layers of the rolled top half of your dress underneath his hands. You had very little idea about what bedding someone meant but you had this primal urge to not have any skin of yours covered or untouched by him.

Steve shed his cape and threw every cloth on his torso away, almost as eager as you to get skin to skin contact. Your hands tangled in his hair as he lifted you up and sat you in his broad lap, not before sliding your dress all the way down. As he broke the kiss and took in your body, parts of you hidden under the smallclothes, he let out a growl that frightened yet excited you with another shiver down your spine. 

He made quick work of his bottoms, his cock standing and reaching his muscled chest almost and you gaped. Your sister, Emma had informed you of men’s parts being far much smaller than what you had just witnessed. His member stood erect and proud, glistening as he pumped it with his fist. His eyes drank in your surprise and trepidation, getting amused and turned on even more. 

You still laid stretched across the bed, legs straight ahead of you while your torso rested on your elbows, eyes wary of his every next movement.  He eyed your scantily clad body, gaze filled with lust and nothing more and climbed between your legs, one hand coming down on your waist while the other grabbed the back of your head and pulled you into a possessive kiss, robbing you of your breath. Your mind was slowly registering the reality of it all, this was going to happen no matter what. You were going to sin by engaging in fornication. But is it really wrong if your benevolent king demands that of you?

His hand sliding from your face to your bosom distracted you from your chain of thoughts. He slid the cups of your garment revealing your nipples and took one in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it while his other pinched the abandoned one. You didn’t know if you should be more surprised at his actions or the rush of the feelings that ran through you.

He slowly released your nipple and trailed soft kisses down your stomach to your most intimate part yet, kissing it through the cloth there. His delicate touch was abruptly contrasted with him grabbing the fabric, tearing it into two and revealing you bare. 

You closed your legs out of instinct but his heavily muscled hand took them apart in a single push. He eyed you with a warning, to not obstruct him anyhow anymore.

“Let me taste that sweet nectar of yours, sweetheart. I really want to find out if it is as addictive as my senses picked it up, as sweet as the aura that surrounds you.”

And with that he dove into your pussy, his tongue roaming your wet cavern. Neither did you understand what he spoke of nor had you sister told you about the activity happening right now. But all you could do was focus on the astonishingly pleasant shivers running through you as you had an out of the body, more accurately an out of the world experience. You had no sense of the time that passed and how long you laid there clutching the silk sheets letting out mewls. But out of nowhere, something in you snapped and all your energy left you. 

As your blurry vision cleared and your eyes found his face, he licked his still glistening lips, his beard moist and wet but erotically so. He dove right into kiss again and you tasted your own sweet nectar for the first time ever. His hand roamed your body, grabbing your curves and caressing your soft flesh. 

One of his hands made its way down furthermore and spread your fluids along your folds, and then lined up himself along your hole. With a sudden push, you felt yourself being full like never before, and a sudden pain hit you as your face visibly flinched. Steve swallowed your grunts of pain with his kisses and started rubbing your bud above your linked bodies. 

The shudder that ran through you once again made you incapable of thinking, the ache slowly subsiding behind the pleasure you felt. When your moans filled the air, Steve kissed your collarbones and sucked leaving bruises there, and started thrusting again. As his movements became faster and consistent, and his callused hands rubbed you and pinched your intimate flesh, you ascended to another world. Each action of his introduced you to a new star in the wide galaxy. The same unknown descended upon you again as something snapped in your abdomen and you experienced pure bliss. 

“Going to make you the mother of my children, you will carry my seed and bring the Kingdom several heirs. This time I’ll succeed, you will be mine, my Queen in every sense.” His words made you clench around him and that was all it took for him to achieve ecstasy as well.

Your head lolled and your eyes met his sweating frame lying across the silk sheets as a sinister grin adorned his face again, “I need to fuck a successor into you tonight, you ready?”  

[chudleycanonficfest]

the hippogriffs and the flobberworms

Day 23, Post #2 by @accio-broom

Title: the hippogriffs and the flobberworms Author/Artist: accio-broom Pairing: Arthur & Ron Weasley (platonic) Prompt: slice of life Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): Mentions of sex lives and STDs, very cringe-worthy.

Arthur whistles as he roams the ground floor of the Burrow, searching for his youngest son. Ron’s best friend Hermione is due to arrive any day, ready to spend the latter part of the summer holiday with the Weasleys, but there are some things Arthur needs to speak to Ronald about before Miss Granger joins them.

He’s probably left this conversation a little late—Ron turned fourteen a few months ago—but this is the first time the youngest has shown any interest in the opposite sex. With the rather exciting activities coming up for their fourth school year, including a ball, it’s only inevitable that different feelings will start to stir.

Chuckling, Arthur reminisces about the conversations with his other sons. Bill, always cool as a frost salamander, kept his focus on his old Dad without any outward discomfort, even though Arthur made a complete mess as he told Bill about the facts of life. All of Arthur’s words came out in a massive jumble—he couldn’t even use the correct terms for various body parts and used all the wrong euphemisms. Arthur had been trying so hard to be a cool dad that he got himself far too worked up to make any sense. 

His second son, Charlie, was dismissive and didn’t seem interested in the mechanics of making love, which was disappointing given the amount of time Arthur had spent rehearsing, determined to get it right that time. Percy approached the conversation with logic and appropriate questions, discussing it as he would an important Ministry policy before thanking his dad then leaving the room without a backwards glance. In stark contrast, the twins cracked inappropriate jokes and turned the tables on Arthur, making him feel awkward as innuendo after innuendo spewed from their mouths.

Ron will be Arthur’s last chance to do “the talk”. Molly is responsible for dealing with Ginny, and they’ve probably already started. He doesn’t baulk at the female aspect of puberty, having lived with a woman for almost twenty-five years, he’s well versed in the potions and muggle contraptions they need to use, but he thought it only fair that Molly gets a go of this, too. It’s one of the essential parts of being a parent, after all. 

Although Arthur is well-seasoned in explaining the facts of life without going overboard with the detail or using cringe-worthy phrases now (although the twins did teach him a few new idioms), he has decided to step away from the ‘cool’ dad persona and go full-on over the top this time. 

He could make this easy for Ron, but why would Arthur want to spoil his own fun?

A flash of red hair leaving the broom shed catches his attention out of the kitchen window, and Arthur’s grin widens. It’s a beautiful day, the sun is shining, but there is a light breeze, keeping the air fresh and cool. It’s the sort of day that would lead to him fishing in the lake at the bottom of the garden, but he has a task at hand that he needs to deal with first. 

Maybe there’ll be time for him to get his rod out later.

Pouring two glasses of lemonade from the jug Molly has left on the side, Arthur uses a cooling charm on them then steps out from the backdoor and onto the patio. 

“Ron,” he calls, smiling as his son turns his head around faster than a niffler chasing gold, looking like Arthur has caught Ron doing something that he shouldn’t. Probably skiving from the long list of chores Molly gave him this morning. “Come up and have a chat with your old Dad.”

Arthur eases himself into the bench under the wisteria with a groan. Although he isn’t all that old, having seven children and living through a war takes its toll on a guy’s body. Now, every joint clicks and complains every time he moves. Forget getting somewhere in a hurry; slow and steady is now the way to go.

Ron settles in the seat next to him. 

“What’s up, Dad?” he asks, smiling at Arthur. He takes the offered drink, gulping almost half of it in one go before letting out a loud, satisfied sigh.

“Hermione is coming to stay with us before we go to the World Cup, I hear? But not Harry?”

Ears turning pink, Ron turns his head to look out at the garden. “Y-yeah. We’re going to collect Harry in a few days, remember?”

“Oh, yes. I’m very excited to be visiting the Muggles. Will they tell me about eckeltricity? Should I take my battery collection?”

Ron laughs. “I don’t think the Dursleys will be too impressed with batteries, Dad. They use them every day.”

“Shame.” Arthur sighs, then turns his eyes to gaze the same way as Ron’s. “So, Hermione is a girl.”

“Er, yes, I guess so.”

“A girl you’re attracted to?” Arthur glances at Ron, whose face has turned as white as a ghost.

Ron reacts with a knee-jerk response, but the look on his face indicates that he’s not telling the whole truth. “No!”

“Are you sure? You and her have gotten close lately. Mum and I like her.” Arthur waits a moment for Ron to take back his first response, then tuts when he stays quiet. “Well, I’m sure you’ll find someone you do like soon. Anyway, as you already know, she’ll be staying in Ginny’s room with your sister, and I’m sure you’re clear on the rules of the house. Your Mum does not want any sneaking around or late-night visits.”

Arthur doesn’t hold the same views as his wife. Sure, he doesn’t want the kids to be sleeping in each other’s beds, but he remembers the conversations he and his friends had during the early hours of the morning when he was their age. If the children wanted to get up to something, Arthur would rather it happen under their roof where they’re safe than have them take unnecessary risks. He and Molly were young once, too, although it feels like a lifetime ago now.

“I know, Dad.”

“Good. And so you know, if you ever find yourself feeling conflicted or wanting some advice on how to ask a lady out, you can always come to me. Because being a teenage lad is a very confusing time, and the magic will heighten this, as well as the fact that you live in proximity to some charming young women. You might not feel it right now, but you’re on the precipice of being a man. Your voice has started breaking. Sure, it’s a little later than the others, but I’m sure that’s nothing to worry about. Everyone develops at their own pace, after all. Pretty soon, you’ll have hairs sprouting all over the place, even in places you wouldn’t expect it. I can’t remember when all of this started happening for me, but it was around your age. And don’t get me started on the wet dreams…”

“Merlin,” Ron sighs, now squirming in his seat, trying to make himself as small as possible. When Arthur checks again, his youngest is looking into the depths of his glass as if considering whether he could drown himself in there.

“Sex is healthy, son, especially if it’s with someone that you admire and love, whether that be a girl or a boy, Your mum and I don’t mind as long as you’re happy. And if you find the right person, then it can be amazing.”

A low groan emits from Ron’s mouth as he pushes himself further down the bench, attempting to put some distance between him and Arthur. 

“Please stop talking,” he pleads with bright red cheeks.

“Having a good sex life is nothing to be ashamed of, let me tell you. The seven of you weren’t delivered by the hippogriffs, after all. Not that we only have sex to procreate. Having you kids out of the house has done wonders for our love life. 

“While we’re on the subject, if you can’t get a partner, then there’s nothing wrong with taking matters into your own hand. Masturbation is very beneficial, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. It’s important to explore your own body and learn the kind of things you like so that you can recreate those moments with a partner. I can tell you some useful charms if you need them—ones for when you’re with someone, and others for when you’re alone. Of course, there are some spells that are vital for you to learn. Safety is sexy, and you don’t want any little accidents happening.”

Ron runs his hand over his face as if trying to erase his dismay. “Dad. Please stop. I know all of this already. Not that I wa-I mean, do that sort of stuff.” 

He crosses his legs with a gulp, and Arthur feels a rush of joy. He’s succeeded in making his youngest son feel as awkward as possible. You have to take delight in the smallest of moments, especially the older you get. 

“Who told you?”

“I have five brothers and live in a dorm with four other boys. Also, Flitwick taught us the contraceptive charm last year.” Ron is still focused on his glass, looking like he wants to be a million miles away.

“Oh, right. ”

An irrational surge of disappointment crashes over Arthur. He should have realised that kids are far more advanced and talk much more than they did in his day. He should have bit the bludger earlier and nabbed him last summer.

“Well,” Arthur continues anyway, determined to see this through, “contraceptive charms aren’t the only things you need to learn. You need to ensure you protect yourself from Sexually Transmitted Diseases, or STDs, as well. Some of these can make you a little itchy, but others can be dangerous. You should go and see Madam Pomfrey if you think you might have one. Of course, you could always get some muggle con-domes. Fantastic little invention they are. Rather than trying to remember a load of different spells while you’re in the heat of passion, you can whack on a rubber and get to it.”

He doesn’t allow Ron’s small squeak to put him off his speech, now he’s in full flow again. “Talking about getting to it. Consent is important. When you decide to take that step, or even before when you snog someone, you need to make sure they want to do it too. Every step of the way. If they say no, you stop right away, even if they said yes only a minute previously. You must understand that. Never force yourself on someone, especially if they are drunk or otherwise intoxicated. If they can’t say yes, it’s a no-go. Got it?”

“I-I d-do,” Ron stutters, his voice strained under the embarrassment of the situation. “C-Can I go now?”

“Yes, yes, of course. But don’t forget that I’m here if you need anything, son. Even if you think it might get you into trouble. And look after Hermione, even if your feelings for her are only platonic. I admire the way you, her and Harry have formed a little group. The three of you are good for each other.”

Arthur reclines on the bench and closes his eyes, letting out a sigh as the sun warms his face. There’s no point getting one’s wand in a knot over spilt potion. He still managed to get Ron squirming like a flobberworm, so it was mostly a successful mission.

The bench shifts as Ron rises to his feet. He finishes his drink with a gulp and sets the glass down on the floor before shuffling away.

“Dad?” a small voice asks.

When Arthur opens his eyes, he spots Ron towering over him. When did he get so lanky? Ron is going to be the tallest of the family, for sure. There’s a smile on his face, though he still can’t meet his Dad’s gaze.

“Yeah, Son?” Arthur asks, shielding his eyes from the sun.

“Thanks for trying.”

Ron shrugs, then wanders back down the garden, his gangly frame hunched over. Arthur marvels at Ron’s response. You think you fully understand your children, and then they do something that knocks you off your broom. But Ron is a decent lad, and Arthur knows he will go far, like the rest of them.

With a happy sigh, he leans back and closes his eyes again. He’s done an okay job at this parenting thing. As long as none of them gets arrested or tries to break into Gringotts, he can die a happy man.

[centuryofdean]

Of Food and Comfort - Epilogue

Author Note:: Sooo this took longer than I wanted. It was always my plan to have a small epilogue for this story, but I didn’t want to promise it and then it never happen. It is finally here and I apologize if it isn’t up to par.

My small hiatus didn’t go as planned. I really wanted to start writing other stories to have ready to post, to read other writers’ works--but that didn’t happen. Instead I fell into a deep slump in my life. I won’t go into detail because you aren’t here to read about it but this epilogue is everything I want in my life and I’m starting to fear it will never happen. 

Author Disclaimer:: Marvel and its characters are not mine. I take no credit. Instead I claim the maybe not so great plot, writing and characteristics of the reader insert character. I am not a die hard Marvel fan, I haven’t read all the comics, but have watched the movies. I may get some things wrong, so please don’t hate me. I also have been incorporating Old Norse as terms of endearment.

Summary:: You worked for Tony Stark as a…mechanic of sorts. Anything around the Avengers compound that needed a technicians touch, you handled. With working and living there, you had grown to be friendly with the super heroes. Of course you had grown to have feelings for one of them. The muscled Thunder God to be exact.

Rated:: M for Mature. Please do not read this story unless you are 18+. Smut. NSFW

Pairing:: Thor x Reader

Three months had passed since you moved to New Asgard with Thor. At first it was hectic with trying to rebuild and organize housing for all of the Asgardians. Thor worked almost night and day on different buildings with his people. You worked through most of the day doing the same or helping gather food for families and cook.

The people of Asgard were grateful for your help, some even remembering you from your short visit months ago. The weirdest part of it all—one that you were trying to stop at every given point—is that the people started calling you ‘Your Majesty’, ‘My Queen’, or ‘My Lady’. Thor had introduced you as his ‘beloved’ to them, so it must have stuck.

As time went on, it got colder but thankfully did not snow. Not all the homes were finished before it got too cold to build. You and Thor graciously offered your mostly completed home to families whose homes weren’t completed yet, but none had taken the offer.

Thor came home late at night dirty and tired from hard day’s work. After making and eating dinner, the both of you would curl up in the bed with Mjölnir and discuss what was done and what still yet had to be done. Even though it was exhausting trying to rebuild a society, it was still worth it at the end of the day when you could sleep warmly and soundly in Thor’s arms.

Since it had begun to be too cold to work outside on homes, you spent most of your time working on the inside of yours. The house and roof were completed, but most of the flooring and walls weren’t. Thankfully the quinjet had satellite internet to research how to do most of these things. Thor spent a lot of his time during the day doing the same with other families, or just checking in with the Asgardians daily.

Tony and Steve came to visit a few times. They toured the town and met some of the people. Tony explored the nearby towns and made some calls to have power and running water construction start in the spring. For the time being the people of New Asgard used wood fireplaces and water from the nearby streams and nearby inland waters that came from the North Sea.

Overall—everything was going great. Although it wasn’t the same type of easy living as you had at the Avengers Compound, you still enjoyed your new home with Thor.

Being extremely tired was of the new norm. That was to be expected while working all day. Lately you had been waking up in the middle of the night sweaty—even though it only mildly warm with the fireplace. It was only when you threw up a few times that you were convinced you worked yourself sick. In the mornings you woke with a clogged nose and sniffles, using what little energy you had left to convince Thor you would be fine without him. It wasn’t the first time in your life you got colds. His people needed his help more than you needed it.

It was a nasty cold that seemed to come and go for a few weeks. You were finally satisfied when you were no longer sniffling or throwing up.

Until you woke another morning to find yourself kneeling over a bucket and emptying your stomach again.

“Gods help me,” you muttered wiping your mouth. Mjölnir was whining softly at your side, nosing your head and neck while you faced the bucket and retched. “I know you’re hungry buddy. I’ll make breakfast in a second.”

After getting up and cleaning yourself, you hissed walking to the kitchen. It was mostly complete. The drywall was put up and ready to be painted, the cabinets and counters were installed. You spent your own money on these things, and even used your money to buy similar building supplies for the other Asgardians when they would accept it. This wasn’t the reason you hissed though, you hissed because a strong ache started in your lower back.

Since it was nice and cold out but not freezing, you were able to store food just outside the door in a wooden box (to keep out animals). Eggs and sausage in hand you started to make food.

Milling around the other dry foods sitting on the table you found peanut butter, and it sounded good on a slice of toast. Then you remembered that Thor used the last of the bread making a sandwich for dinner last night.

As you flipped the eggs on the pan, you suddenly had the urge to put a dollop of peanut butter on the eggs. It was something you did occasionally for Mjölnir—but you wanted to try it. Mixing some of the eggs and sausage in dry kibble for the dog, you took a bite of the peanut butter eggs and rolled it around your tongue softly. The taste was by far different, but it wasn’t that bad? When you were about to take another bite, Mjölnir snuffed his snout into your stomach and huffed.

“Bud you will get yours once it cools off I promise,” you sighed. “Just—”

You were cut short when he started to whine and lick at your shirt.

The taste of yolky peanut butter danced on your tongue while your brain tried to process what was wrong with your dog. Soft aching pain radiated from your lower back and pelvis. Why were you eating eggs and peanut butter?

“Oh fuck,” you whispered starring into light brown eyes of Mjölnir. He barked softly and wagged his tail.

In a blur of moment you got off the stool and frantically looked for your boots and keys. A few weeks after arriving to New Asgard you and Thor acquired some vehicles for the people to use. The both of you used the one of the trucks regularly to get supplies from nearby towns. It was about an hour drive to the closest one, but you weren’t even worried about the drive. You were anxious.

“Come on Mjölnir,” you hollered for him to follow. In one motion you yanked the bowl of his food off the table and flung the door open. Not having to be told twice he followed you into the cold morning and to the truck. All you had to do was open the door and he jumped inside.

You sat his bowl of food on the bench seat and hurried to the driver’s seat.

The hour drive flew by fast. You weren’t sure if it was just because you were nervous or just scattered brained. Mjölnir waited out in the truck while you ran into the convenience store and asked to purchase a pregnancy test.

Ironically, the drive back to New Asgard took forever. You kept running scenarios through your head that it was a fluke, you weren’t pregnant. Life would remain the same as it was. No big deal.

But what if you were? How would Thor react? How was it even possible? It didn’t seem likely that Asgardians could procreate with humans? Thor was a God though! He must have been alive for thousands of Earth years, especially if there is Norse Myths about him! Panic started to set in you again—what if you were and everything went wrong because Asgardians and humans weren’t compatible to procreate?

Mjölnir shoved his head out the window and chomped at the wind as you drove.

Even though you weren’t ready for it and worried everything could go wrong—you would be mildly disappointed if you weren’t pregnant.

After pulling back into the driveway at the house, you sat with the truck off and just starred at the tests in your hand. You had never taken a pregnancy test before. You read the instructions over and over again to make sure you were going to do it right.

Taking a deep breath you grabbed the three tests you bought, opened the door and let Mjölnir out, and walked calmly to the outhouse. Since there was not electricity or plumbing in New Asgard, everyone had an outhouse built. It wasn’t great—you gagged when you walked in sometimes—but you told yourself if wasn’t forever, it was just temporary.

You’ve used porta potties before, you can use an outhouse.

Over the course of five minutes everything changed.

One by one each test showed the control line—and then faint positive lines.

Your heart started to beat so hard and slow you could feel pain in your chest as your eyes started to water. Faint lines count right? Trying to hold back tears, you gasped and shoved all the tests in your coat pocket.

Where was Thor?

With Mjölnir by your side, you tried to walk calmly through New Asgard. People were out and about trading and building. Everyone smiled or waved as you passed by. Eventually you started to ask if anyone had seen Thor. There wasn’t a solid answer, some said he was last seen on the edge of town.

Just as you were passing the last building you did not find Thor, but you did find Brunnhilde. She looked tired, but smiled none-the-less when she saw you. “Have you seen my oaf of a boyfriend,” you asked a little out of breath, but heart still beating in anxiousness.

Her lips twitched as she tried to repress her smile. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, lightening lit up the sky just behind her near the beach. A few bolts here and there, but lasting longer than normal—especially abnormal without thunder and rain.

“He’s on the beach My Lady,” she laughed softly. Whispering a small ‘thank you’, you rushed towards where you saw lightning strike, Mjölnir in tow.

“And stop calling me My Lady,” you hollered back at her, “you know I hate it!”

It didn’t take long for you to find him after that. You stifled a laugh when you found him sitting in the sand with his legs spread, leaning over while he tinkered with something in his hands.

“Thor,” you called out for him.

Immediately he tensed and shoved his hands into the sand. “Schatt,” he replied, not moving, “what are you doing here?”

As you got closer, he didn’t get up, instead he seemed to push sand around and particularly place a rock down in the sand. What on Earth was he doing?

“I was looking for you,” you said confused, almost forgetting what you were here for. “What are you doing?”

Looking a little flustered, he just smiled. “It’s a surprise,” he said softly. “Do you need my help?”

That’s when you became speechless. Over the months Thor lost some of the weight he had gained on the ship. Working every day instead of sitting still and eating will do that. You never told him, but you were happy he wasn’t the same chiseled Adonis he used to be. Thor was still fit and strong, but much softer than before.  You confessed how much you enjoyed his long hair that braided up into a top knot and down into his beard; and he continued to do it.

Even though you knew one of his eyes looking back at you was fake, you couldn’t help but stare helplessly back at both of them. Suddenly you started to cry, remembering what you found and had to tell him. Warmth filled you from the inside, seeping out through your wet cheeks.

“What is wrong drotting,” he rushed forward to wrap you in his arms. Warm. Safe. Happy.

Unable to speak, you took the handful of plastic in your pocket and shoved them at his chest. He looked at it oddly and tried to read what he could on them.

“What is it love? What are these? First Response and Clear Blue,” he muttered squinting his eyes while looking it over. A laugh ripped from your throat, awkward and rough.

“Thor,” you blubbered, “they’re tests. I’m pregnant.”

Thor’s eyes went glassy, brows furrowed as his lips moved mimicking the word ‘pregnant’. Confusion was still grasping him as he tried to process the news. Overcome with the urge to do something, you grabbed one of his hands from around your waist and brought it up to rest on your stomach.

“We’re going to have a baby,” you whispered, trying to catch his eye. Was he mad? Was he scared?

He stood almost limply while his hands flexed over your middle on top of your coat. You could hear him mutter the word ‘baby’ over and over. “T-Thor,” you asked hesitantly. Was this the moment he grew angry?

Instead he broke away from you and walked back to his odd rock.  Dread filled you to watch him walk away like that. He didn’t look thrilled at the news, just walking away like that. Was he going to ask you to get an abortion? Would you even entertain the idea? Tears were already filling your eyes again at the thought.

Mjölnir was following Thor around, jumping softly as Thor rose up from the sand. When he turned to you, you were shocked to find a wide bright smile gracing his face. Your heart started to thud a little irregularly at it. Once he got back to you, he fell to his knees and pressed his face against your stomach, laughing softly. On instinct your hands wove into his hair to hold him there.

Thor captures one of your hands and brought it to his lips where he pressed a kiss to the back of it, then flipped it over to place something cold and smooth into it.

The wasn’t very big, but the size of a nickel—not as perfectly round either. It was mostly flat on one side while the other rose softly here and there in no particular pattern. The color of it was just the perfect hue of cerulean blue that you were comparing it to his eye every fraction of a second to see if it were truly the same color. It was beach glass, small and imperfectly perfect.

“This is the best one I have made so far,” he rumbled softly, still rubbing his face against your stomach. “I will keep trying, but we can take this to a shop and get it made into a ring.”

As he said the words, memories were clicking into place, seeing lightning at the beach throughout the past few weeks. He has been making these? Why has he been making—made into a ring?

“What,” you asked a little thick in the throat. “W-what do you mean?”

There he was, the God of Thunder just kneeling in the sand in Norway at your feet. His mustache twitched with his smile, moving fluidly with his lips and he pressed them against your hands and then your stomach.

“I was waiting to make the best piece first, then get it made into a ring before I asked. Steve said I needed a ring to ask,” he murmured with a soft chuckle. “Now I feel is the best time more than any.”

Your heart wasn’t beating fast, but it was beating hard. Quickly your hands grasped onto his shoulders as you felt the shake and wobble in your legs. They didn’t want to hold your whole weight all the sudden.

“Y/N, will you do me the honor of being my wife now that you are already doing the honor to being the mother of my child,” he smiled up at you as he said the words. A choked sob left you as you tried to gasp for air. You would say you fell from the shock because your legs weren’t working, but Thor was already holding you tightly, easing you down to your knees in front of him.

Kissing him softly, you cried. “You’re not mad about me being pregnant,” you asked.

Thor chuckled deeply, nosing his way to your neck where he laid extra kisses. “Of course not drotting, this is wonderous news. I am just a little shocked since you said you take that medicine to prevent this, but I am not mad. I could never be mad.”

“I love you so much,” you trembled the words as you whispered them against his neck.

“As I love you,” he murmured back. “Though you will do me the honor? You will be my wife?”

“Of course,” you cried softly.

If someone had asked you a year ago where you thought you would be in life today—this isn’t what you would have imagined. None the less, you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Previous Chapter << Part 12: Waffles

[elyksina]

Hello, I'm in love with your artstyle! I wonder, how long have you been drawing, and how often do you draw? And how did you learn it? And how did your old drawings look like? Sorry if it's too many questions, I'm just curious and want to draw again myself 😅

Dammnn you the cops? Ok buckle up kids I'm gonna give you as much detail as I can.

I've been drawing digitally since 2012. Before that I drew scribbles traditionally and showed my mum every time to get that sweet validation. I've always enjoyed drawing, as far as I remember, and was always the art kid and did it casually, sometimes just once a month until I started a bachelor's in computer arts in 2016.

Even at uni I didn't always draw very much, the first two years (because adhd I think and also because I had lots of friends). The first two years I still drew only a little more than I had before uni but it was mostly pinching for project deadlines. Then 3rd year, 2018, I started realising oh my god Elenora you lazy fuck get your shit together you're supposed to do some work here what the hell are you doing. And I started drawing more consistently and doing studies and consciously trying to improve. I still didn't draw every day but definitely a couple times a week.

4th year everything finally exploded and the dread of not being good enough started to really set in. I started drawing like crazy and got an ipad so I could draw on the go. The start of 2020 I started tracking my screen time and was embarrassed if it was less than 6 hours on average, usually it was around the 8-9 hour mark. I'd go through phases of staying awake for like 30 hours just to draw most of it and sometimes slept only a few hours because I wanted to get back to it and not waste time. I think at one point I had a few times screen time showed me I'd spent 16 hours on procreate in one day. I'm pretty sure I screenshotted it once and wanted to post it but was embarrassed because the diagram also showed one day of the week with the daily average of 6 hours so I possibly couldn't show people that. 2020 was the first year I spent drawing every day.

I learned it by doing it, looking at how others do it and sometimes peeking at tutorials. I went to uni but since it was a video games course, they didn't really teach us much about 2d drawing stuff so I'm pretty much what the kids would call "self taught" (hate that expression)

My old drawings look like shit. I'd rather lay down and turn into a pile of worms than look at anything I did 2 or more years ago haha. I'm getting better at looking at my own art but sometimes even after I've posted something here I cover the picture or scroll past it really fast while looking at people's tags on the post, so I don't have to look at my creation.

Drawing is such a long journey, I've often compared it to going to the gym to my friend who's really into that stuff and wanted to get better at drawing. You need to do it consistently and every day if you really want to improve. I didn't believe it myself before 3rd year of uni, I was like pff it'll be fiine if I just draw every now and then. But unfortunately if you want to improve fast and consistently, you need work for it a lot. Luckily the more you do it the more you start feeling like you need and want to do it, until it's more like a lifestyle, where you just do it every day anyway.

I hope that answered some things for you and I hope you pick up drawing again, it's fun! And thanks for asking haha

[ficsnthings]

Paul “Jesus” Rovia x Male!Reader

Summary: Jesus said he had to run. He didn’t say who he was running back to.

Rated: T - canon typical violence

Read on AO3

Please consider buying me a coffee

y/n = your name

y/e/c = your eye colour

When Jesus awoke in an unfamiliar makeshift cell with no real sense of how long he’d been there, his immediate thought was to escape. He needed to get home to where his people, where his family were waiting for him.

So after assessing that neither the water nor the cookie that had been left for him were poisoned (after all, why they would poison him after going through the trouble of saving him and dressing his wounds if they were just going to poison him?) he quickly ate and drank before he slipped his bonds, watched the guard they had posted on the most obvious exit to keep him in and waited for an opening to sneak away and find another way out, which he found in the form of a third floor window.

If there was one thing Jesus was good at, it was thinking on his feet, but it wasn’t until he’d finally lowered himself to the ground that he realized he really didn’t have a plan now. He knew he needed to get home, but at the moment, he wasn’t sure of quite how far away home was. Even if he made it over the wall, he had no weapons, no real sense of where he was, and no guarantee that the tracker, for Jesus knew that was what the rough looking man with the angel wing vest was, wouldn’t come after him.

These people could have killed him, could have left him out there to die, but they hadn’t. Instead they had brought him back with them and left him with food and water. He decided his best chance at making it home might be to make a deal. But first he needed information, leverage.

So he snuck around, found their supply stores (meager given how large their community appeared to be ), their armory (impressive, considerably more so than their food stores), before creeping around a few of the large homes that populated the street in order to find the man who had brought him there, the man he had assessed to be a leader, Rick.

Later, when he was sitting in the RV listening to Glenn and Abraham’s conversation involving ridiculous metaphors for sperm and procreation, he found himself unable to keep his thoughts away from his own child. The little girl he and Y/n had found abandoned and very much alone right at the very beginning.

The two of them had been quietly making their way through a little town, maneuvering swiftly down a backroad when they thought they heard a baby crying from the inside of a car that was surrounded by a group of the dead. They had paused, waiting and listening, and had almost thought they’d imagined it when they heard it again. Her cries were tired, barely audible above the noise of the snarling monsters surrounding her, but they were there.

Up until then he and Y/n had tried to play it pretty safe. They had avoided other people as well as they could, knowing that trusting the wrong sort, or getting caught somewhere in the panic and desperation of some of those groups could easily cost them their lives, and hadn’t gone out of their way to kill the undead creatures which now roamed the streets, only fighting them out of necessity. But the moment they heard those cries, the moment Y/n had given him that look of I’m about to do something stupid please back me up, he didn’t even have to think about it. He just did.

The two of them worked together to take out the group of the dead surrounding the vehicle, then jimmied open the door using the same crowbar Y/n had been using as his weapon of choice.

Y/n unstrapped the baby from the carseat/carrier that was still locked into place in the back seat and took the baby, who was maybe six, seven months old with a head of wispy brown hair, big blue eyes and pudgy, bright pink cheeks, into his arms. He gently rocked her, cooing and hushing until her little cries quieted and she instead looked up at him curiously. Jesus knew as he watched the two of them that this changed things. That he would do anything to ensure the safety of both his love as well as this rosie cheeked girl whom was already quickly stealing his heart.

Back in the present, his eyes focused in on Rick’s hand reaching over and grasping Michonne’s. The way they smiled at each other, the looks they shared, it spoke of familiarity, a shared closeness, but despite his initial assessment, after observing the two a while longer he got the distinct impression that the two had not been romantically involved long.

Watching the two comfort one another made something inside of him ache for his own love. The man he’d been with since Before.

When they’d met Jesus had just begun putting his life back together after having gone through the grueling process of getting sober. He hadn’t been looking for anything serious, hadn’t meant to get so involved, but Y/n was funny and sweet and beautiful and strong. He was kind and caring, but wasn’t a pushover, wasn’t afraid to call Jesus out on his shit. He’d gradually nudged his way past all of Jesus’ defenses, taking care of him in the little ways he did.  A new beanie when his was starting to look a little too worse for wear, another tube of toothpaste to replace the one that Jesus hadn’t realized was nearing empty, a parting kiss over coffee when he left for work in the morning. Before he knew it Y/n had wormed his way into his heart, leaving articles of clothing in drawers that once contained only Jesus’ own, a toothbrush beside his in the cup next to the bathroom sink, and a dull ache of longing in his heart when they were apart.

Jesus couldn’t wait to get back to his family, to hold the two people he loved most in the world in his arms again. He hoped Y/n wasn’t too worried about him. That was one thing he knew was inevitable with him going outside the walls, but wished he could change nonetheless. He hated making Y/n worry.

******************************

Waiting for Jesus to return was always difficult. Knowing that he was outside the walls, usually on his own, was terrifying. I knew he would do everything he could, whatever it took to make it back to us, but I also knew that nothing out on the road was predictable. Anything could happen to him out there, and if one day he didn’t come back we’d probably never know why.

Sometimes when he’d go out he would get held up in someway, causing him to return later than he’d hoped. On a few occasions storms and bad weather had left him holed up for days waiting for the worst to pass before he could make it home. Far more frequently, however, he would run into walkers, or people. Those were the circumstances that scared me the most. And I could just feel in my heart that was what had happened this time.

Jesus had meant to be home yesterday, had said as much as he’d kissed our daughter and I goodbye right before leaving a few days ago. He could waltz through the front gates at any time now, but knowing that didn’t stop my mind from running through possible scenarios that could have kept him from coming home to us. A day late wasn’t so much in theory, but in this world it could be the difference between life and death.

I tried not to dwell though, didn’t have much chance to do so anyway. We all had jobs to do, and mine was to take care of our daughter, Rosie, and help out around the community wherever they needed a few extra hands.

So that is exactly what I did. I awoke that morning in a bed that felt too empty, got myself cleaned up and dressed, then did the same for our daughter. I fed her and myself, then began our usual morning routine of going out to help maintain the crops before the sun had risen too high in the sky.

After a few hours we would retreat back to our trailer and work on learning our ABC’s. Rosie, in all her three and a half years, had never wanted anything quite the same way she wanted to be able to read. So each day we would spend as long as her young mind could stay focused and willing reciting the alphabet, practicing writing out each letter, and practicing the sounds that each letter made.

Today we were working on learning to write Q, R, and S, which were some of the more difficult letters for a child under four to pick up, but she quickly got the hang of Q and R. She just couldn’t quite get her mind around forming the S on her own. If I mapped it in dots she could trace over it, no problem, but she hadn’t yet figured out how to recreate it herself, yet. It would come to her, I knew. She was very determined and tended to pick things up quickly. She just needed a bit more time and patience.

Patience, however, seemed to be one thing Rosie didn’t  have in abundance today. When I could see Rosie’s steely determination quickly beginning to give way to frustration, I decided it was time to switch activities before she devolved into a meltdown.

“Hey, baby girl, why don’t we give ’S’ another try a little later, and right now we go outside and play for a bit, huh?”, I gently suggested.

The little girl in question paused to think for a moment before nodding, “Okay, Papa.”

I pulled her in for a hug after we’d both risen from our place on the floor, “You’ve done such a good job today, Rosie. You’ve been learning very fast, so I think you just need a break before you can get the ’S’ shape.”

We quickly gathered up some of her favorite toys and went outside to play in the dirt in near our little trailer. We raced matchbox cars along side little model horses whose brown paint was chipping in places, making them look more frame overo than chestnut.

As Rosie played, I felt my worry for Jesus creeping back into the forefront of my mind. By now it was mid-afternoon. What if-

“Papa?”, Rosie’s sweet voice interrupted my inner turmoil.

“What is it, baby girl?”, I replied, bringing myself back into the present.

She peered up at me with big, blue eyes and asked, “When’s Daddy coming home?”

“Well…”, I started, but was distracted from answering when Harlan, who must have just returned from his run, came hobbling around the corner supporting Freddie who was a looking fairly beat up and limping at his side.

I quickly stood and stepped towards them, ready to help if needed, “You guys okay?”

Harlan turned his head my way and nodded, readjusting Freddie’s arm around his shoulders, “We’re fine, just gotta patch up Freddie’s leg here.”

My eyes traveled down to look at the wound and I winced, “That doesn’t look so good.”

“Could have been a lot worse if Jesus hadn’t found us.”, Freddie spoke up.

That got my attention, “Jesus?”, I asked, “Is he back?”

Harlan nodded and said, “Yeah, he found a group out there so he’s taking them up to Barrington house.”, before continuing on his way towards the medical trailer.

Relief flooded my system. Jesus was safe, he was home. I knew he’d be round eventually, but I didn’t want to wait any longer. I spent enough time without him when he was outside the walls, when I knew that we could be together I refused to waste whatever time we may have by staying away.

I crouched down in front of Rosie, who had resumed rolling her toy cars through the dirt, and asked, “Hey, baby girl, Daddy’s home. Do you want to go see him?”

Her face immediately lit up with a bright, dazzling smile, head nodding emphatically as she scrambled up from the ground and exclaimed, “Yes, please, Papa!”

I stood as well and she quickly latched onto my hand and began dragging me away from our trailer.

“Hey, hold up.”, I laughed, “You don’t even know where he is.”

She just shrugged and continued tugging at my hand, “I’ll find him.”

I chuckled once more, shaking my head, “Daddy’s this way, sweetheart.”, as I turned and began leading her in the opposite direction from which she’d been pulling me towards, “Daddy’s up at the big house.”

********************************

“Follow me, I’ll show you where you can get cleaned up.”, Jesus conceded, slightly warily.

Gregory was already making any potential dealings with Rick’s group difficult, and the tension between the two leaders was palpable. Gregory always took any good fortune their community had for granted. He never seemed to be able to look far enough in the future to realize that whatever fortune they had now was only temporary. That at any time someone or something could sour their luck and then they could be stuck in a bad situation made worse by a lack of allies willing to aid them in their time of crisis. Jesus knew what Gregory always seemed to lose sight of: In this new world, people needed each other to survive.

Though Rick’s community needed their help today, he knew that one day in the future, be it in a few months or a few years, the Hilltop may need their help in return.

So Jesus would continue to do what he always did when Gregory was being a particular brand of asshole. He would keep the peace for now and try to talk some sense into him later when he had the chance.

Just as he was about to lead the group upstairs, the front door of the house burst open and a tiny figure barreled in.

As soon as the little missile caught sight of her target she yelled, “Daddy!”, and ran full force into strong arms that automatically opened for her, latching herself to him and hugging with all her might.

The moment Jesus had his daughter in his arms again he relaxed exponentially, finally releasing the breath that he always seemed to be holding whenever he was away from she and Y/n.

He held her tight to his chest, closing his eyes and just breathing her in for a long second before pulling back a bit to say, “Hi, Rosie-girl. I missed you so much.”, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

Rosie smiled the easy smile of a small child and said, “I missed you, too, Daddy!”

He smiled back at her warmly, and was about to ask where her Papa was when the man in question came bounding in, closing the still wide open door behind him.

*******************************

As we began breaching the final fifty or so feet between ourselves and Barrington house, Rosie let go of my hand and ran as fast as her little legs could carry her towards the place she knew her Daddy was.

I sighed, shaking my head. That little girl had moxie immeasurable.

I watched Rosie fling open the door before racing through it, leaving it wide open in her wake and as I walked up the front steps a few moments later , I knew we were going to have to have another talk about responsibility and how it was linked to being mindful of our surroundings: ie: not leaving doors open EVER, even if you thought it was safe.

But all these thoughts flew out the window the moment I’d closed the door and my searching gaze finally met that of the man I loved. When his crystal blue eyes met my own y/e/c orbs, I finally felt whole again.

Then he was there and his arms were holding our little girl between us while mine were encircling the both of them, clutching those most precious to me close.

His hand reached to cup my cheek and pull me in for a long, gentle kiss that felt like coming home.

“I’m sorry I’m late.”, he apologized when our lips parted, “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

I scoffed jokingly, “Me, worry? Nah, I knew you’d ninja your way back home sooner or later.”

Jesus smiled, letting his hand stroke down the side of my neck before turning back to the group of strangers that in the excitement of our reunion I hadn’t even noticed where standing in the foyer.

“My apologies for the lack of introductions. This is Y/n and our daughter Rosie.”, he said.

Members of the group smiled or nodded warily in greeting, and Jesus reluctantly set Rosie back on her feet, “Stay with Papa, okay? I’ll be back in a few minutes and then you can tell me all about everything I’ve missed out on in the last few days, sound good?”

Rosie nodded, taking hold of my hand once more, “Yes, Daddy.”

Jesus gave her one last warm smile before turning back to the group, “Alright, let’s get you all cleaned up then, shall we?”, and led the way up the stairs towards the bathrooms.

When Jesus returned a few minutes later he was alone, and so the three of us made ourselves comfortable on a couch in the sitting room. Jesus wrapped an arm around my waist, pressing me close against his side while our daughter sat perched on his lap, her little hands absently attempting to braid his long hair (though mostly only succeeding in creating tangles as opposed to the plaits she was going for) as she told her Daddy all about the crops she and Papa had helped to weed and harvest, and the letters she had learned to write and how Papa said that she was learning really, really fast!

In that moment, as he sat with the love of his life and the daughter they were raising together, his own little family, Jesus reveled in the feeling of being home.

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[siarven]

2019 Recap + 2020 Goals

Soo.... 2020 here we come--Happy New Year everyone! <3 I hope it’s a good year for us all and the world we live in, and that it treats all of us more kindly than the last one did :’)

I haven’t really been very active on here the past few weeks (the holidays were great but also filled with lots of things) and I’m 50 tags behind, according to my emails x) I’ll do my best to catch up! So, for 2020 I’ll try to be a bit more active and share more things and stuff like that. I’ve never done a post like this despite existing on tumblr (in some form or another) since a few days before the mishapocalypse XD those were... days XD So this is my first step in that direction :D

Lots of things happened last year! 

1. As Dreams Collide & (Camps) NaNoWriMo

Dreams became a trilogy! Those are temp covers, but they were still a lot of fun to make XD ... back in april. Forgot to upload them x)

I finished the second draft of Dreams in January, and then proceeded to spend the rest of the year figuring out more of my worldbuilding, adding Elinor as a POV character with a new subplot, and changing some other major things about the story and characters :3 So even those who read Draft Two will probably be surprised by some of the changes :D

I also started writing the Draft Three during November/NaNoWriMo, and finally figured out how the new subplot and Elinor’s involvement would shift the events of the story! And I wrote 35k of words that I still like! Which I’ve edited a bit, sure, but I still like them. (We won’t talk about the rest of the 126k, they’re trash xD but they helped in figuring things out, so that’s ok)

My plan for 2020 is to finish Draft Three and get Dreams to a point where I can start editing instead of rewriting (and throwing it at everyone who wants to give me some feedback) <3

2. Hope Beyond & Inktober

I also participated successfully in Inktober last year! And actually managed to make art on all days for all prompts!! IN INK!!! Despite there being a conference to attend!! I never managed to actually do that before, even though I tried two times, and I also wrote short stories for some of the art! :’) I love Hope Beyond so much, ahhhhh :’)

And the best thing about it was that I developed my newest WIP through inktober, and that its characters have truly become people in my mind, and that there are so many wonderful creatures I didn’t know of before <333 I doubt I’d have had all of these ideas without it :D

My goal for 2020 is to make a detailed outline for Hope Beyond, and to create concept art of the characters, creatures, and locations! And, most importantly, to find the style for the comic aspect, and to get Hope Beyond to the point where I can seriously start making/publishing it in 2021. My plan regarding the publishing is to do so weekly on wordpress and tumblr @hopebeyond :) Which is why I will need a good plan beforehands :D

Also, if you want to see the inktobers properly (and read the short stories!), here’s my inktober tag <3 

3. My art

I know I used that pic in the inktober collage, too, but it’s just one of my fave artworks from last year and this is my post so :’)

Art-wise, I did a lot of things last year, even if it was less than I wanted. Not sure how much progress I made, but there must’ve been some ;D

I also graduated from uni! Post-graduate life is scary but despite all my various crises I am probably going to figure things out. :’) life only goes forward, after all. 

I have a ton of art-goals for this year! 

First of all, I am going to try to participate in a procreate art challenge called Making Art Everyday by Lisa Bardot and it will probably kill me but I hope I’ll also learn a lot. And that’s another thing! After a year of not getting along with it, I have finally tamed procreate. :’) There’s a lot of art I did over the holidays, in various mediums, and I can’t wait to show you! 

The biggest thing will be to make a proper concept and illustration portfolio, and I’m going to combine that with my hope beyond things, so I hope I can show you all of that during the coming months :3

Also, I think I am now going to actually use that art collection tumblr I made a while back, and upload art from there, so it’s easier to find. Not sure if it’ll make a difference but we’ll see :) It’s @siarvenart ! Hope to see you there, too <3

As for the decade... 

That’s my art progress from 2009-2019! I came pretty far, I should say :D And I took a detour over realistically copying portraits/animals with pencil on my way to draw things from the imagination again, I guess :’) Still shocked at the pencil things I did, back between 2013-2014. That captain jack sparrow one was january 2013 and the dean winchester one in summer 2014, after I’d graduated from school... quite a skill-leap. But then again, what else can you do when school is boring but spend 10-20 hours drawing portraits xD

I’m glad I’m now firmly in the “draw your own thing instead of copying photos” area (since end of 2015, I guess) but it’s a lot of work and I wish younger me had sat down and learned the basics like perspective and anatomy because then I wouldn’t have to learn all of that stuff now XD 

Practise does pay off :) this call-out is directed @me, specifically, but also everyone else who needs the reminder

I’m tagging some mutuals and friends below the cut <3 Thanks for all of your support <333 It means a lot :’)

I guess I will now try to catch up to the things I got tagged in over the past month. :’D

@wilde-writing | @madmoonink | @lynnafred | @prismalicht | @sincerestaffect | @romenna | @zekethegm | @random-stuff-thrown-into-a-pot​ | @asttralhell​ | @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword | @kittensartswriting​ | | @raiswanson​ | @ettawritesnstudies​ | @writingwordsanddrawingpictures​ | @fatal-blow | @fynniana​ | @consciousdreamz​ | @corishadowfang​ | @raywritesblog​ | @kainablue​ | @afragilestrongsoul​ | 

[prorevenge]

Wiggity wiggity wack, boss wouldn't pay me back. Bippity boppity boo, ended his job and marriage too.

I'm sorry this is such a long post. TL;DR at the end.

When I was in college, I had a minimum wage job in a bargain retail store. I worked in the warehouse around a lot of older guys and the job required heavy lifting (usually 75-250 lbs of pallets and boxes). I started off working in the warehouse and it motivated me to start lifting weights seriously; I lost 25, 26 lbs over the course of my first six months there by working out solo at the campus gym. However, most of my co-workers were older guys (I was 23, 24 at the time) with whom I had very little in common. I rarely talked to anyone else but I did want to be seen as one of the cool guys.

So it was strange but an honor when the manager of the fleet of delivery trucks (we'll call him Victor) approached me at work one day and started conversing with me. Victor was older (45, I think) but he was well respected by everyone in the warehouse. He dressed well and seemed pretty fit. In the course of the conversation, we discussed lifting weights together and invited me over to his home gym one day. We exchanged phone numbers and agreed to lift together on a Friday when his wife (we'll call her Nora) was at work.

I showed up at his house with one of my favorite T shirts on, and Victor was shirtless. He suggested that I lift with no shirt too. I felt uneasy about it and said no. Victor snatched my shirt by the left sleeve and pulled it until it ripped. He apologized, promised to buy another shirt for me, and I had to lift with no shirt on. We worked chest and triceps but throughout the lift I felt....uncomfortable. Victor kept touching my chest and my stomach (he said it was "to focus"). I kept pushing it to the back of my head but I did decline to go inside Victor's house. I left my ripped shirt at his house in the garage where his weight set was located.

Over the next few days, the awkwardness increased. Victor asked during phone calls if I had a gf, if I was having sex regularly, if I watched porn. He "ran into" me in the breakroom at work during my lunch break and would always sit close to me, just to talk about really personal stuff. I learned that his wife was a pastor at a prominent church, that she made more money than Victor, and that Nora did not believe in sex outside of procreation. When I asked about my shirt being replaced, Victor always said he had money problems. I ended up replacing the shirt myself later.

Victor invited me over again to workout with him. I wore a tank top that time. Victor asked me to take it off (I did), and during the workout, mentioned that he was behind in his electric bill. He asked to borrow 40 USD and said that he and his wife were having a rough patch, so he couldn't borrow from her. Like a gullible idiot, I went to the nearest bank, withdrew the money, and put 40 USD in Victor's hand after our workout. He promised to pay me back at payday.

Payday came and went but Victor's presence did not. I received late night (after 10 p.m.) phone calls from Victor. When I answered, he would sound drunk and talked endlessly, occasionally talking about my body. I stopped answering his calls and got voicemails from him (also sounding drunk) asking me to call him back. When I confronted Victor at work to stop calling me and pay me back (two days after payday), he told me he would pay me back next payday and that he just really needed a friend to talk to. I felt badly, agreed to wait, but also made up an excuse of how I couldn't lift weights with him.

He didn't pay me back the following payday either. But Victor did send me a thread of pictures with his shirt off, in his underwear, and nude, all within the week of payday. When that third payday came, Victor avoided me at work.

The Revenge

Infuriated with his harassment and not being paid, I went Facebook the day after payday and found Victor's wife's Facebook page and her church's Facebook page. I created a gmail account with Victor's full name, then created a Facebook page with his first name and last initial, and uploaded all of the photos he had sent me. Then I friended his wife and the church's Facebook pages, set all settings to "Friends only" level privacy, and logged out.

That same night, I called our company's ethics hotline and left a voicemail tip, "Mr. Victor Fries is drinking very heavily and making lewd comments to co-workers and customers. Please look into this."

Within a week, Victor was fired. Not only had he been drinking on the job and sometimes come to work hungover, he had been using corporate gas cards to fuel his and his wife's vehicles. He was arrested during his shift and several employees saw him walked out in handcuffs (I unfortunately didn't). Victor called me (drunk again) from his hotel room after his wife kicked him out of their house.

Not satisfied with this level of revenge, I recorded Victor's voicemails into a handheld recorder I had bought for my college classes. I mailed the recorder (using Victor's home address as the return address) to his wife's church and marked it as "Attention: Nora Fries. Press Play." Then I changed phone numbers.

I haven't heard from Victor in years but his firing was the talk of the store for months.

TL;DR: He owed me money and tried to make me his honey. He got very rough and did a bad touch. So I ruined his life, was it funny?

(source) story by (/u/JockBbcBoy)

[universally-the-same]

Exercise, intuitive eating and stepping into power

My intuitive eating journey is starting to welcome the idea of movement.  For my whole life movement equaled exercise, which equaled a need to lose weight.  Pretty much the only times that I would exercise with any regularity where when I was in the throes of trying to change my body as a result of being surrounded by diet culture.

There are two other circumstances I can think of when I would exercise regularly.  The first being the many times I was in physical therapy rehabbing a body part due to an injury.  The other time is when I was about 18 years-old.  I was out late every night country line dancing, and I was going to the gym for fun.  Weight loss did end up being a side effect of this time in my life, but it was probably the most intuitive period in my life as an adult.  

I would eat whatever I wanted, and I only ate when I actually needed food due to my hectic teenager schedule (because you know... I was busy working, going to school and just living life to the fullest).  I danced because I loved it.  I worked out at the gym because it felt good.  And I ate what I wanted because I felt that I deserved it due to all of the exercise I was doing.

Now, the food part was still tied up in diet culture because I was eating what I wanted to eat because I felt I deserved it due to the exercise, but the point is that I wasn't restricting myself, I enjoyed my food and I enjoyed the movement I was doing with my body.  It all came very naturally to me.

At this point in my life, I was the thinnest I was as an adult.  But aside from weight, I felt truly fulfilled in many other ways.  I was traveling with my best friend.  I had worked through my childhood mother issues as best as I could, I had an amazing support group of people that loved me and encouraged me, my stepsister and I had grown incredible close, and I had even given up the incessant need for a boyfriend... I believe because I was finally at a point in my life where I was finally starting to "do me".

Until this morning, every time that I've looked back on this part of my life I've always obsessed on the weight loss part, and how incredible it would be to be able to replicate that.  Over the years, I've realized and I've accepted that this body is now 20 years older, and at that time... I had undiagnosed Graves Disease so my metabolism was in constant overdrive. Since than, my thyroid has changed and I now have Hashimoto's Disease so my metabolism is working against me.  

When we created our vision boards for Winter Solstice in December, I placed a picture of myself as a teenager in the center.  I also did this Spring of 2018 as a form of motivation for my weight loss.  This year, when I chose a picture, instead of focusing on a picture that emphasized my body. I was drawn to chose this picture that captured my spirit in what happens to be a smaller body.

At the time I didn't really realize that's what I was doing, but as I've been going through this whole process of tapping into my intuition on a whole other level, and getting back in touch with my inner child, I'm realizing that what I want more than weight loss is to feel whole and to be happy.

"Thanks" to diet culture, I always thought that weight loss would be "the thing" to make me happy.  So weight loss turned into this elusive thing that I've only ever been able to obtain when my body was sick, or when my life was full of restriction and the need to exercise (and the reasoning that it would help burn more calories which would help me lose weight).

When I did the Optavia diet last year, the diet was so incredibly restrictive that I wasn't allowed to exercise because of how dangerously low my caloric intake was.  This in itself should have set off a red flag, but it didn't because I was completely enamored by the success stories and my search for happiness through weight loss.  I sincerely believed that it was the answer and that if I could just stick to it long enough to get down to the size I wanted, then I could transition off the plan and maintain a pretty restrictive diet for the rest of my life.

Does that sound like happiness?  I was miserable.  My thyroid was thrown for such a loop due to the heavy amount of soy protein I was eating in place of real food.  Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't have been able to exercise because I had zero energy.  I was filling my mornings with promising pep-talks of lunchtime naps hoping that 40 minutes of sleep would be able to carry me through the rest of my day.  Most days it didn't and I would need another nap after work so that I could make it through the evening.  

Luckily, I wised up and transitioned myself off of that diet before things got any worse.  Shortly after, I went on the vacation of a life time where I  allowed myself to eat what I wanted.  It was vacation after all, and I've never been one to restrict myself for holidays and special occasions.  But what I didn't realize was that this would continue after I got home.  I now understand that the cyclical nature of dieting is restrict, restrict, restrict and our bodies finally get to a point where enough it enough and we binge.  This is one of the reasons for yo-yo weight cycling.  

In intuitive eating, there is a stage you go through where you have to allow your body to have what it wants.  As counter-intuitive as it sounds, this stage is very important because the trust that was broken within the body during restriction needs to be rebuilt.  The idea behind this is that when we diet, we know that it is a purposeful restriction (of food choices, calories, portions.. whatever it may be) but our actual body doesn't know that.  Due to our nature, our body is programmed to think that we are entering a period of famine, so when when the time/opportunity comes to replenish itself, it's going to take advantage of that.  

This is the phase that I am in on my journey.  I could write a separate post of everything that I've been experiencing during this phase, but the coolest part is actually witnessing the trust being reestablished within my body.  It's something that I really can't explain at this moment, but I felt it was important to share this information on restriction because I'm going to tie this in with exercise in a moment.

But before I do, I wanted to write out a quick timeline.  I started Optavia last May.  Our trip was the very end of October.  That December is when I created the vision board with that photo, and this past January is when I started seeing my new therapist who introduced me to intuitive eating.  

This past year, I have been very resistant to exercise.  The only form I've done has come in the form of walking when exploring on vacation or day trips, and yoga.  I'm happy to say that my yoga practice has been particularly strong this year, though I think that's in part to my not really viewing yoga as exercise.  While yoga is fantastic for your body, for me, it's always been about the spiritual part.

But recently, I've noticed that movement/exercise is slowly started making a reappearance in my life.  For the last few months, I've had this little voice suggesting I wake up earlier on my work-from-home days and hit the gym.  This week, I finally found the desire to really want to do it.  I woke up early, drove to the gym and did a total body work out.  

While working out, I listened to my body.  I was mindful of what it wanted - just like with food.  I did the amount of weight that felt good.  I did the number of reps/sets that felt good.  And I didn't worry about the clock and how long I had been there.  When I was satisfied with my workout, I left.  

I've been practicing listening to my body while eating these last few months, and let me tell you... it felt so amazing to tune into my body while at the gym.  In the past it was all about competition which sounded something like this...  How much weight did I lift last time?  Let's see if we can beat that!   Oh look... I'm lifting more than the person next to me!   I'm pedaling harder than them, or not fast enough.. let me push myself harder...

I've always known that this thinking it what set me up for injury, but I'm really now seeing just how much it was.  The liberation that comes from releasing all the self-imposed expectations and just doing what feels good, or listening to my body and eating what I really want in the amount that my body needs (vs. under or overeating)... these things leave me satisfied.  A word that I've taken for granted for too long.

All of this mindfulness and reconnecting with my body has me thinking about patterns in my life related to exercise.  I'm realizing again, this connection to nature's cycles.  Reflecting back over the years, I have a tendency to want to want to be more active in the spring time.  I tend to struggle with exercise during the winter months.  This is so fascinating because this coincides with the cycles of not only trees and plants, but animals too.  

So many plants and animals go into dormancy/hibernation in the fall and winter.  It makes sense that I would also want to retreat.  In the spring, everything starts to wake up.  The plants and trees blossom and bud, animals come out from hibernation, they start mating and procreating so wouldn't it make sense that there would be an inherent desire for my body to "wake up" and want to be more active?

I'm so excited to go into this year with this new perspective and to be able to honor it without being attached to the stories and expectations to be something other than what I am.  Reconnecting to my spiritually was an important step towards finding myself, but I never expected the healing that would come from this intuitive eating journey.  The liberation that has come from releasing all of that and allowing myself to be me, and figuring out who exactly that is has been such a beautiful process.  

The more that we release those ties that bind us, the more powerful in self we become.  The more we recognize and honor that power, the more we can help change the world and create one where our unique identities are embraced instead of stigmatized.

  *this blog post was originally posted on my My Curvy Journey blog on 5/23/2019 and moved to my Universally the Same blog.

[sagara-megumi]

SasuSaku Month 2019 - Day 4: City Lights || [Fanfic] Family Ties - Chapter 2

Sorry for the long delay in posting this chapter but health and relatives visits made it a bit difficult (having nephews and nieces around asking you to play with them isn’t the best way to get inspired). Also, Sasuke made things a bit difficult XD

Title: Family Ties: Chapter 2

Rating: T/PG-13

Words: 3470

Notes: Well, as I stated in the previous chapter, there are going to be vampires in this story ^^ I don’t know if you’ve read manga about vampires before but just in case you haven’t, I’m going to tell you a little about them because Japanese vampires are different from Western ones.

It’s important to know that depending on the manga/anime they’re represented with some characteristics or others but what I think it’s the main difference is that vampires are more supernatural beings rather than undead creatures. Therefore, we can find vampires who can walk freely during the day, have superpowers, procreate, work… however, I think that one of the most important things is that they don’t have the pressing need of drinking blood to survive. I don’t want to elaborate too much on this topic because then, the notes would be too long and also, I want to uncover things as they happen in the story ^^ But if you want to check some more info, you can go here.

English isn’t my first language so if you spot any mistakes, please tell me. I hope that you enjoy it, and thank you for the notes and follows :)

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CHAPTER 2

Expectations.

Uchiha Sasuke closed the door of his father’s office and walked along the corridor on the ground floor of the duplex house which had been his home for years, heaving a barely audible sigh. More and more expectations kept on mounting on his shoulders every single time he visited him and showed him his results, either academic, sports or social. However, it was never enough. Every single time, his brother’s name came into the conversation comparing their grades and their merits.

Despite this, he was not angry or unhappy, or hated his brother. Being a child, he had felt neglected in favour of him but Itachi had always tried to be there for him, even though he was busy himself, helping him with his studies and giving him advice. And even though he still had to deal with judgements, his views had changed as he grew. He had become aware that his father did that because Itachi was his successor as the clan head and also, because he wanted Sasuke to keep growing and be better, so nobody could say anything about any of his sons. Especially at that moment, in his situation.

He went up the stairs, heading to his bedroom. After his parents’ divorce, Itachi had stayed with this father while he, as a minor, had been taken in by his mother when she left the family clan. He now led a “normal” life that he did not want, living in a small rented apartment outside the family’s influence area, surrounded by people he did not have any interest to know and having to do things he was not used to, like doing the shopping or the washing-up.

He entered the room and, after looking through the window for a moment, at the city which was starting to come to life as night approached and buildings, street lamps and neon signs were lit, he took off his dark green uniform jacket, the striped tie around his neck and unbuttoned the top of his shirt, sitting on the bed, feeling slightly tired. He only had to wait a year and a half more to abandon all that, to be back to his origins and carve his own future, with his own kind. And he had to use that time wisely to harden himself so when he came back, people could see this strength and success over his mistakes.

He leant back, letting himself fall on the mattress and closed his eyes. His mistakes, his weaknesses… They were so many that sometimes, he doubted the clan could overlook them one day. Some were small, things that a child did carelessly and were frowned upon but others… He clenched his jaw. Others…

He buried his face in his pillow but nothing, not even his own scent, came from it. He opened his eyes and propped himself on one elbow, glaring at the fabric and pressing his lips together. The maid had changed the sheets again as if they were dirty after just one night. Maybe they feared that he brought any human odour with him. He half-closed his black eyes. It was true that the place where he lived on weekdays was full of smells he had never perceived before, like food being cooked, cars passing by, perfumes mixed in the air from men and women who passed along the corridor on the street or the sheets of his own bed which smelled of the floral fragrance of the fabric softener that his mother used when doing the laundry. At the beginning, it had annoyed him, especially for his sensitivity for smells, but after a while, he had got used to it. His thoughts went to her and the last time he had seen her, the previous morning during breakfast. She had been paler than usual, and it was as if she had lost her energy. She had said that she was tired, as Christmas was approaching and she had become busier with work, but he did not know whether to believe her or not. A part of him wanted to call her to see how she was, but another one berated him for having such feelings. That was exactly what his father and everyone around him wanted him to fight.

Breathing deeply, he stood up and finished changing his clothes. Then, he took out some books from the bookcase next to his desk and sat down, ready to study some more before dinner.

Minutes later, he stood up to take one more, a novel, for his Classic Literature homework but another one attracted his attention, and he picked it up. It was a copy of ‘Beauty and Sadness’ by Kawabata Yasunori which probably belonged to Itachi, as he did not usually read those types of books. He swallowed. And it was the same book the girl on the train was reading the day before. He had seen it in one of the glimpses he had caught of her.

In the beginning, he had not been more interested in her than in other humans who surrounded him on his way to school in that uncomfortable train carriage. She was one of the hundreds of students he crossed paths with during his day. And by the looks she sneaked at him, another one infatuated by his appearance. He had felt so annoyed that the following day, as he saw her enter the car, he had ignored her during the whole journey.

However, as he had sensed her attention gradually shift from him to the books that she brought to read during the ride, he had started to get curious about her, not so much as to steal glances at her like an idiot in love, but enough to wonder about her taste in literature or find out her school. It was not a bad one, but not the best for a bright mind as he supposed by the curiosity he had seen in her green eyes and her seriousness while reading when she carried advanced textbooks with her instead of novels.

And then, it was that aroma that she sometimes gave out. It was subtle and slightly sweet, like a summer breeze bringing the smell of ripe fruit. Now and then, it was mixed with recently applied cologne and it became a walk through a garden in spring. Even though he had already known that all humans had their own fragrance, hers had always been comforting, inviting but not tempting.

Until a few mornings ago, when she had given her seat to an old woman and she had taken a grab handle, her back to him. Maybe it was because she had been nearer him or because there had been any kind of disturbance in her feelings, or just because he was more sensitive that day, but her scent had surrounded him, intense and enthralling. His heart had thundered in his chest and goose pimples had formed on his skin, his pupils prickling slightly as his hunger-

“Sasuke?”

He jumped and turned suddenly, seeing his brother just behind him, his hand barely touching his shoulder. He had not heard him enter.

“I knocked but you didn’t answer…”

He breathed deeply, noticing that his fingers hurt, and he realised that his hold on the book had tightened until his knuckles had become white. Strange energy, like a low electrical current, fluttered in his veins, making him oddly upset.

“Sorry” he replied, clenching his jaw and trying to regain his composure. “Did you want something?”

Itachi furrowed his brow slightly. It was not like Sasuke to show his feelings openly, and to his eyes, it was obvious that something had been bothering him. When he had entered his bedroom and seen him stood there, immobile, his breath slightly agitated and his mind really far away from there. However, he was showing him a composed expression now, regarding him calmly, as always. He opened his mouth go ask but his little brother interrupted him.

“I found this here” he said, showing him the book.

“Oh, that’s mine, thank you” he replied, taking it. “Shisui lent it to me, I probably left it somewhere and one of the maids thought it was yours.”

Sasuke nodded and then, put his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“And? What did you want?” he repeated.

“Oh, they called us for dinner and I thought we could go downstairs together” the younger man spared a glance at his homework and then, took a step towards Itachi. “But, are you sure you’re alright? You look a bit pale…”

“Yes,” he straightened himself and looked at his brother. “I just need to go out tonight.”

.

Sakura started to go down the stairs from the school library in the building next to the sports facilities with a loud sigh, as the librarian closed the door behind her. She had lost track of the time while studying for her exams and now it was almost dark. A chill ran down her spine as a cold gust of wind passed her and she shrugged under her thick uniform coat.

Being a third-year student was not being easy at all, but she had thoroughly organised herself to be able to get to everything. At the beginning of the school year, her father and she had split the housework in a different way so she could have much more time to study and she had left her club too; also, she had a study group with Neji and Tenten, the only ones of her friends who were the same age as her, and they met every week to review the lessons and solve questions. She sometimes felt envious of the others, who, being in second year, still could afford to go to a café or the karaoke after class. In many occasions, Sakura had wondered why she had been in such a hurry to be born. If she had only waited for three more days…

“Sakura-chan!”

She was crossing the terrace in front of the main building, which had a fountain in the centre and led into a promenade lined by rows of leafless trees, when she had heard her name. Turning, she saw Naruto running towards her, waving. There were few times now when they could walk back home together and at that moment she was grateful for his company to avoid thinking about everything which was happening in her life, at such frantic speed that she barely felt strong enough to deal with all.

He reached her and smiled widely, his cheeks red for the effort and the cold, and he bent over a bit, putting his hands on his knees to recover his breath. A moment later, he started coughing and she sighed.

“What am I going to do with you…” she said pressing a hand on his back and rubbing vigorously to get through the different layers of cloth. “If you get ill, your mum’s going to be mad at you.”

“I just…” he replied, his smile still intact, as he lifted his head to her. “… saw you and I had to catch you” he straightened and inhaled deeply again. “I wanted to ask you about your dad and his girlfriend.”

If Ino was her best friend, Naruto was like a brother to her. They had met as babies when his parents had moved to their neighbourhood, three houses down the street from hers. They had been together in each of their school stages, she helping him to study when they had important exams and Kushina was exasperated because her son preferred to disappear to play football with other boys, during the summer holidays when they went to each other’s houses and played in their paddling pools until they did not fit in them anymore, and even when Naruto confessed to her when he was fourteen and she rejected him. They had overcome bad moments, fights and bumps in the road, and after sixteen years, they were still as close. He was the only one who knew about his father’s relationship and the change that was about to happen in her life, and even though he was not trustworthy in some kinds of secrets, she knew that he would take to his grave those things that she had talked to him about in the privacy of their bedrooms and that nobody else knew.

“Nothing happened.”

Naruto looked at her curiously and scratched his head as they started walking again.

“But you said he was going to drop the bomb last Sunday, right?”

“He said it wasn’t the right moment, so he decided to wait” Sakura bit her lower lip. “However, there’s something I don’t understand… When I saw him the following morning, he looked worried, as if something… unexpected… had happened. He tried to play it off but I think he lied to me…”

“A fight?”

She shrugged trying to appear nonchalant, but he could clearly see that it was quite the opposite, so he decided to change the topic.

“Hey, do you want to have dinner at home? You said your dad was working overtime and it’s depressing to eat alone. Besides, today mum’s making stew. Gramps’s come for a few days and he’s brought some delicious mushrooms from the village.”

She smiled at him, thankful.

“Alright. But first, I’ll go home to change clothes.”

“I’ll go with you, It’s just a couple of houses away…”

.

Jiraiya was a friendly happy old man who only had a fault, he was a real pervert. Sakura had discovered it when she had started showing curves, but by then, she already knew how to deal with that side of Naruto’s grandfather.

She was overjoyed inwardly when, upon entering his best friend’s house dining room and greet the family, the wide grin on the old man’s face turned into a disappointed pout when he saw that she was wearing straight jeans and a loose thick cardigan which reached past her hips over her black jumper. Also, she realised he did not drop anything under the table during the dinner, as it had happened at other times, and she made a mental note to warn Hinata, Naruto’s girlfriend, about that when she visited the house while his grandfather was there, or she would have a hard time.

And it was really lucky that neither Minato nor Naruto had inherited that trait.

Her smartphone rang while she was enjoying some tea that Kushina had served after dinner and, when she picked it up, she saw it was her father, to whom she had left a message saying where she would be.

“Naruto, take Sakura home” his mother asked him while she bid farewell.

He made a face

“But, there’re only two houses between ours and she can manage… I’d prefer to stay here” he complained while moving forward under the kotatsu covers to make his point. “Moreover, the baseball match’s going to start.”

Kushina put her hands on her hips as Sakura chuckled, knowing what was coming. The woman started ranting about her son’s lack of manners and how Hinata could get tired of him one day if he treated her like that. In the end, Naruto stood up with a sour face.

“You shouldn’t have…” Sakura whispered to Kushina when he left to retrieve his coat. “Now I feel pity for him.”

“He has to learn that he can’t treat girls as his football teammates and that it doesn’t matter if you’ve grown up together, you’re not one either” she glanced at Minato and a soft smile appeared on her mouth. “His father was clumsy and dense for these things too, but he was more considerate.”

Both left the house and stayed in the doorstep for a moment. A cold breeze blew past them, leaving their noses freezing, and Naruto started shivering while he shrugged to emphasize the fact that he had left the comfort of the kotatsu to see her home, and she laughed.

“I got it” she took a few steps ahead and turned, walking backwards. “Tomorrow, I’ll invite you to hot chocolate so you can forgive me” his eyes glinted as they went through the gate and started walking up the street; he was too predictable. “So, why don’t you wait here till I reach my house?”

“Are you crazy? My mum’ll have my head if she sees me through the kitchen window, and be assured she’ll be watching by now.”

Both started walking up the street with their hands in their pockets. The street was empty and only their steps and breaths broke the silence. Their shadows danced back and forth as they entered and exited the beams of light of the street lamps which bordered the street.

“Hey, how are you doing with History? Remember that the exam is next week and you need to pass it or you’ll get suspended of your club activities until the end of the year.”

He hid his face in the neck of his anorak and Sakura furrowed her brow.

“I’m really trying, but you know I’m not good at memory things…”

She sighed.

“I could help you, you know” he lifted his head and looked at her, his eyes wide. “I could make you some timelines and a summary with the most important points, and you can come home to review at the weekend.”

“Really?!” he threw his arms around her. “You’re the best!” he seemed to think about it for a moment. “After Hinata, of course.”

He let go with a big smile and kept on walking, his steps longer and with a small happy gait. However, he stopped just before reaching her door.

“But, what about your entrance exams, Sakura-chan? You start them in February, right?”

She smiled and punched him lightly on the arm.

“Don’t worry about that. I’m a very diligent girl and I’m ahead of my study plan.”

He seemed relieved.

“And? Are you going to tell me which university are you aiming at?”

Sakura frowned and marched to the gate.

“No. I don’t want you to laugh at me if I can’t enter in my first option.”

“Oh, come on. You know I wouldn’t do that” she shook her head stubbornly. “Okay, but it’s not as if you’re aiming for Todai, you know…”

She turned her face away to avoid him seeing the blush that warmed her face despite the cold.

“You can go now to see your match” she opened the door. “And if your mum asks, you walked me to the door.”

“Yes!” he turned around and ran down the street, waving at her.

Sakura moved her head, chuckling as she heard the loud noise his fence made when he slammed it shut, and then, she entered. She was quite often surprised by the sharp intuition her friend possessed, even though sometimes he said things without thinking. And he was right once again, as Todai University was one of the two options she had written on her career survey before the summer holidays. Years before, she had made the decision of being a doctor, when her mother had taken her by the hand, they had walked to a park and there, sitting on a bench, she had told her that one day soon she would not be with her anymore, that she had to be a good girl so her father would not worry, and that she had to become a beautiful strong woman who knew how to face what awaited her in life.

She breathed deeply and closed her eyes for a moment so she could ease the pain in her heart. She was trying hard to accomplish all that. She had learnt not to cry in front of her father, and to make him smile when he was sad. She had kept her lifelong friends and she had made some more along the way. She had hidden her hurt when her father had started talking about the woman he had met when he was in the department store while he was looking for a present for her sixteenth birthday, when she thought that he would love her mother till the end of his life… She had been a brilliant student, earning merits, getting the best marks in all the subjects, and she had chosen the best public university so his father had not had to pay the expensive fee of a private one. Though she had chosen Keio University as a second option at her homeroom teacher’s insistence, her only aim was Todai.

Just in front of the door of the house, she breathed deeply once again, trying to calm herself so her father would not guess any of her thoughts. After all, she had to be a good girl until the end.

TO BE CONTINUED

[theholdn]

Day 4 of 2020 - Find Someone Who Believes in You More than You Believe in Yourself

Well, I totally failed on this goal after writing the first one.

This whole moving with my girl is a big step or so I keep hearing, at first. At first I didn’t think of it mostly because we’ve technically been living together pretty much for the past year but now that its about to be official these past months have made me realize we’re closer to that next phase for the both of us. But she’s been the real mvp-she’s been the one looking up all the places for us both to check out and then to consider the distance I would have to drive/travel on top of having all her work stuff she has to deal with, even after work and at home.

And now, as I’m typing this she’s cooking dinner after apartment looking and grocery shopping today. Even I know she’s a keeper and I’d be a fool to let her go.

So what’s my point of writing all this? To be honest I have no idea.

Maybe I’m writing this to remind myself I need to work harder more than ever before since I have this woman who believes in so much and wants to take care of me with all her ability and might. And the only way I truly know how to repay her back is to give her everything that even she doesn’t know she wants in life.

Been saying I’m going to write and draw a comic for ages and I don’t know even know why I’m procrastinating like crazy. I mean a part of me definitely want to draw this on Procreate but I’m not good enough to draw confidently that way yet. I’ve also been looking at a couple of artists on IG who’s been posting their techniques, which I’ve been keeping as references for myself to see how they’ve been digitally drawing as well as some magazines, that hopefully, will be helpful.

Like actual, physical pen and paper drawing, it just comes down to me needing to take the time and just practice like crazy. But I’ve slowly felt a part of myself feeling more comfortable drawing pinups or poster like works more than wanting to draw a whole comic otherwise I’d prefer writing then drawing but I know I want to do a comic and that if I was to do a comic I would want to write and draw it myself and that’s the complete truth. It’s just the process (for me this makes sense) of brainstorming, writing and then drawing is long. And I know I need to do it this way is simply because I need to plan things out to see the whole story before I write it otherwise if I go the Marvel method, parts of the story will either not sync up with what was written earlier or make absolutely no sense whatsoever.

I so want to change this as my full time career but that’s a possibility that can’t be for now so I have to make this a hobby but even as a hobby I haven’t put enough effort in making it a hobby I do all the time anymore.

I don’t like the fact I pull out pen and paper or the ipad when I have a few spare minutes to draw! Hell I don’t like the fact that I use the iPad more now to watch YouTube than I do to write! The original intention of this iPad or even when I had the Microsoft Surface before the ipad was for creative use....

Perhaps setting goals is a no-no for me, I mean look at this. Originally I said I was gonna write after the first post and its the fourth day since the last-first post. How did I turn into a person who plans things out when I was younger I was “whatever happens” mentality. But I guess the keyword is “younger” but yet I see so many people who are perhaps my age or even older and still goes by the Code of Whatever Happens. I envy those folks and I envy those folks with that mentality and even make it!

I don’t know. This post has become a nonsensical post of some kind.

I guess I wanna just remember: I have a woman who loves and believes in me like there’s no tomorrow. I wanna do the creative route. And succeed in the creative route but not just for me but for everyone who’s told me they like my stuff or asked me “Hey, how come you don’t have your own comic man?”

I can’t say I’m working on it anymore, I need to say “Here, it’s right here! Please, take a look at it.”

[emperorsfoot]

YJ fic. # 2, “Emergence”

Originally posted on FanFiction.Net on 1/6/12

This was a fill for a prompt in the “Young Justice Fandom Challenges” forum. Amazingly, the forum is still active: https://www.fanfiction.net/forum/Young-Justice-Fanfiction-Challenges/86355/

The prompt was to write a fic where Superman wanted to adopt Superboy and Supey was the one to reject him. 

There was some wiggle room for interpretation. 

My summary: “Fathers generally get nine months to get used to the idea. But when the child's already walking, talking and asking for attention, nine months might be to long to wait. -ONE SHOT”

Emergence:

Clark watched Bruce with his new ward. The two worked well together, better than one would have expected a newly orphaned nine-year-old circus boy to work with a still unfamiliar adult and far better than one would have ever expected the Dark Knight to work with… well anyone. Even the teamwork of the World's Finest would be hard-pressed in a comparison.

The Man of Steel hung back as he used his telescopic vision to observe Gotham's hero and his new protégé take down a small-time roof-hopper that Clark didn't recognize. The Batman was fiercely territorial about his city and Superman wasn't looking to step on his toes, he just had to see this for himself. He knew Bruce Wayne had adopted an orphaned circus acrobat a few weeks ago. The young billionaire bachelor and his flavor-of-the-week date for that week had been in attendance as spectators the day of the accident that had killed all but two of the Flying Graysons, leaving the youngest son orphaned and his only surviving uncle to injured to care for himself let alone the nine-year-old boy. That was note-worthy news for the gossip columns. But what brought Clark to Gotham tonight, almost a month since, were the rumors that the Batman was now being seen with a young boy by his side.

It was no surprise to the reporter that Bruce would take in a young boy whom had also witnessed the brutal death of his parents. He probably saw a bit of himself in the boy, felt a sort of comradery through their shared tragedy. But what the Man of Steel found hard to believe was that the Dark Knight would place such a young child in harms way by taking him out on patrols and cases every night. But there they were, a duo that seemed to be developing a very effective dynamic for fighting crime.

He waited until they had dispatched their quarry and finished their circuit of the city and returned to the Batcave. Bruce had just shifted the Batmobile into park and cut the engine when Superman entered the cave.

"I was wondering when you'd finally stop hovering and say 'hi'." The Dark Knight commented dryly as he hopped out of the driver's seat, cape swishing behind him. "Spying doesn't become you."

Before Clark had the chance to respond, he was cut off by the excited exclamation of the Wonder Boy, "Oh wow! You do know him!"

He did a forward flip out of his seat and landed, feet first, on the hood of the Batmobile. A second flip landed him directly in front of the Man of Steel. He beamed up at the famed hero with an almost worshipful grin on his face. But before the boy had the chance to say more, his legal guardian cut him off.

"Don't you have school tomorrow?"

"Right, right." The boy groaned and then was cartwheeling towards the stairs that lead into the mansion proper. Clark waited until the faux grandfather clock had shut firmly before turning his attention back to the Dark Knight.

"I must say, I'm surprised."

"What are you doing here, Clark?"

The Man of Steel suppressed a smile. He might have adopted a son and become a parent, but Batman was still the same blunt and sometimes abrasive Batman. "Honestly, I had to see it for myself. Bruce Wayne adopting a kid I can totally see, Batman taking a kid out on cases is just so out of character and plain irresponsible, to me."

Bruce pulled his cowl off and ran his fingers through sweat matted hair. "Since you're new to the whole spy thing I'm guessing you didn't see that he's more than capable of holding his own on cases."

Clark had noticed that the boy was rather talented, but he was so young and Batman's cases were usually so dangerous… "I just don't see why you'd want to get you're adopted son involved in this part of your life."

Bruce flopped down in the swivel chair in front of his monitors and said with a shrug, "Its our version of father-son quality time."

Clark thought about that for a long time after leaving Gotham. Father-son quality time, huh. If Clark Kent were to ever adopt a child he would never be able to include his hypothetical ward in his… extracurricular activities. Not unless the boy (or girl, he supposed) could also fly, had super-strength, and was invulnerable. His villain gallery may not be as mentally unbalanced or creative as Bruce's but that didn't mean they were any less dangerous. In fact, in many instances, his gallery was much, much more dangerous than the Dark Knight's, he could never in good conscience involve a child in that. If he were ever to have a sidekick or a protégé, they'd have to be a kryptonian like himself, with the same abilities he had. But that was something that would never happen. Kryptonian physiology wasn't compatible with humans'; no matter how much the two races resembled each other, they could not procreate. He would never have any progeny by normal means.

He could never include an adopted son in the 'Superman' part of his life and he could never have a son of his own. Clark supposed he'd never be able to relate to Bruce where that aspect of his life was concerned.

…

Barry was the second member of the League to take on a sidekick. His newly wedded wife, Iris, apparently had a nephew whom was blessed (cursed) with a keenly inquisitive mind and a pre-inclination towards science. He had not only discovered his newly acquired uncle's identity, but also managed to reproduce the experiment (accident) that had given him his super-speed. Now the Flash had a 'Kid Flash' underfoot trying to be a hero like his uncle.

Between bites of pizza and popcorn, Barry would regal anyone willing to listen with tales of his adventures and misadventures with the boy. He would whine and kvetch and complain about his youth and his inexperience, but behind the grousing and grumblings, Clark could hear amusement, affection and even pride in his voice. For all his complaining, Barry was happy to have a partner to help-out with keeping his own little rouge gallery in check.

"There is one good thing about having the Kid around." Flash gave a dramatic sigh, waving his arms wide before slumping his shoulders in defeat. He waited for someone to follow his cue. After a prolonged pause Clark decided to bite.

"Alright, Berry, and what's that?"

"Its good practice!" He answered with a smile. "Ya know, for when Iris and I have little speedsters of our own."

Clark had muttered something non-committal to that, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. He made his excuses to the Flash and exited the mess hall. Barry could have little speedsters; the accident that had given him his powers had not robbed him of his potential to become a parent. But Clark would never have little boy scouts of his own; he wasn't human and so did not have the potential to ever become a parent with a human woman.

…

Ollie had been the next one, another adoption case. Clark had been rather busy with an off-world mission at the time and so didn't get to hear the full story of young Roy Harper from Green Arrow himself. Instead receiving the cliff-notes version from Aquaman upon his return.

"Batman seems to have set a trend." The Atlantian king joked. "What about you, Supes, any plans to become the next 'Justice-daddy'."

"The next what?"

"Its what Berry's started calling the members with sidekicks recently." He shrugged. "I'm not fond of the term, but I must admit that the idea of having a partner on certain missions would be advantageous. So, what about you?"

Clark answered with an uncharacteristically short and sober, "No."

A few months after that had been Aquaman's faithful battle with Ocean Master in which two students of the Academy in Poseidonis aided him; and Orin suddenly got himself a sidekick of his own. Maybe Batman really had set a trend that the rest of the League was slowly following by one means or anther. But it was a trend Clark could never follow himself.

He had long since resigned himself that he would never have any progeny, he also knew that no one born on Earth would be able to keep up with him and his villain gallery. He now began resigning himself to the belief that he would also have no one to pass on all the knowledge Jor-El had left him with. The legacy of Krypton would die with him.

Not for the first time, but the first time in a long time, the full weight of his title hit him. He really was the Last Son of Krypton.

…

Independence Day had been a shock to his system.

Superboy's existence gave him a great deal of food-for-thought. Upon later reflection, the usually-Boy Scout had to decide that his handling of the news and the boy himself had been less than admirable. But personal feelings (on both sides) aside, the boy's existence meant two things to the Man of Steel: first, there were very few places where Cadmus could have gotten a viable sample of his DNA which meant that one (or more) of the people on the short list of those he trusted were compromised, and secondly, grooming the boy as a weapon to destroy him so carefully and concealing his existence from the League so completely implied some greater and deeper plot than their standard run-of-the-mill Big Bad's quest for world domination. Before he claimed any sort of personal responsibility for the boy he had to get those two questions sorted out.

He had told the boy that the League would figure something out for him, and the League had. He was living at Mt. Justice, he was working on a Team under Batman's careful observation, he was surrounded by friends… the boy didn't really need him. Clark pushed the boy out of his mind.

Besides, it wasn't like the Superboy was his son. Superman couldn't have children.

…

Clark had all but forgotten about the boy until August when he showed up in Metropolis to help with a collapsing bridge.

At first he'd been annoyed. The clone's landing had been rough and shook the bridge enough to make the Man of Steel to a double take. He floated up totake hold of the bus that Superboy was trying (and failing) to pull back from plunging nose first into the bay.

"I had that!" The boy snarled at him.

Clark met the hostility with some blunt harshness of his own. "I didn't want to take the chance. As it is, your landing could have destabilized the whole bridge."

"But it didn't!" He argued.

"But it could have." Superman shot back deciding that he didn't have much patience for the boy right now. "As it is, we don't yet know the limits of your powers."

He had expected the boy to snap back with defensive anger, or lash out with an insult or maybe just shout that the Man of Steel didn't know what he was talking about and to take his advice and tell him where he could shove it. Instead, the Superboy gave him the same hopeful but vulnerable expression he's worn back in July.

"Maybe… you could, ya know, help me with that…?" The boy gazed up at him pleadingly.

Clark was assailed by a sudden stabbing of guilt. He hadn't seen the kid since July, hadn't thought of him in two months and when he did think of his clone, it was as the living weapon he'd been created to be, a tool made by a nefarious organization for an ambiguous purpose with no real mind or will of its own. 'He doesn't like to be called an "it".' Kid Flash's words echoed through his head momentarily.

"Batman's got that covered." Clark suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable. He wanted to get away.

Luckily, Green Arrow happened to call just at that moment and he was gifted with an excuse to leave.

Let it never be said that metas were never saved by norms.

…

Perhaps his outburst at the diner had been a bit of an overreaction. But Bruce was pushing. If their rolls had been reversed and it was the Man of Steel pressuring the Dark Knight to take on an unexpected responsibility he'd have punched him in the jaw (there was some question as to with or without his kryptonite ring). So, yes, his public outburst might have been a little unreasonable given the setting, but it wasn't an overreaction. No.

But what had really set him off was not the fact that Bruce was asking him to take responsibility for the boy, but that Bruce had dropped the F-bomb. 'Father'. He had called Clark the boy's father and that was something the Superman had not been prepared to hear. Something he had not been ready to think about. He had lived almost his entire adult life under the belief that he could never and would never have any children of his own. Superman might be many things, but 'father' had never been one of the possibilities. …And now Bruce was implying it was not a possibility but his reality.

Clark lay awake chewing on that little tidbit.

He thought about how much Bruce's life seemed to have improved after he adopted Dick. How he seemed less angry, less hostile, more casual, more comfortable; overall the Dark Knight seemed just generally happier since the boy appeared in his life. Clark had never thought he would have children so he had never given the idea much thought, but now that he actually was thinking about it he began to wonder if another reason why he never gave the idea much attention was because he might have (on some level) been a little jealous. Jealous because Bruce had something that he believed he would never have and he saw how happy it made him.

But then he thought about Oliver and all the grief Roy gave him, not just with their falling-out and the boy's subsequent solo act, but grief over the boy's short heroin addiction a few years prior. Clark saw the strain it put on not only Green Arrow but Black Canary as well.

The decision to adopt the boy as his son and take all the emotional baggage that when with it would not affect solely him; the decision did not rest solely with him. The boy would be Lois' son too, she should have a say in the decision as well.

Clark rolled over and gently shook his wife awake.

"Wha'…?" She slurred drowsily. "Wha's goin' on?"

"Lois," he whispered. "Are you awake?"

"No." She groaned and rolled over… and was back asleep before Superman could say 'Great Scott!'

"Lois…" He gave her another gentle shake and rolled her back over to face him.

She moaned in irritation. "You can do whatever you want to me, just don't wake me up."

"Sweetheart, I want to talk."

"Okay, I'm listening." Her eyes fluttered and then closed and she began to snore. Clark shook her awake for a third time. "Damn it, Clark! What!"

He recoiled at her ire but still asked what he wanted to ask. "Have you… have you ever thought about us having a kid?"

She yawned and ran a hand through her sleep-matted hair. "Why? Are you pregnant?"

"What! No! Why would you even…"

Maybe she was still asleep and this really was a conversation best left until morning. But he had been avoiding the subject of Superboy for so long, he wanted to stop procrastinating. The boy was on his mind right now, there was no guarantee he'd give a care about him in the morning.

"Well, you're an alien, Clark, for all I know on Krypton men could have babies." She stretched and cuddled up close to him.

"No." He said flatly. Then, before the conversation could swing off into a bizarre tangent he said, "Lets start over: Do you remember a couple months back when I told you that the League had found a clone of me?"

"I remember the incident at the bridge today a lot more clearly than I remember you telling me about him."

Clark suppressed a wince. Lois hadn't been anywhere near the Hobb's Bay at the time, but the emergency and his and the boy's response to it had been televised. Thankfully the cameras had been far enough away not to catch their conversation, but their body language had been just as telling. It was a far more accurate summary of their relationship (or lack there of) than the short, 'Lois, the League discovered a clone of me tonight,' he'd given her back in July.

"How would… um, how would you feel if I invited him to live with us?"

She missed one… two… three beats before saying, "Sure. But I think the rest of this conversation is best left for when I'm awake."

Unfortunately they did not discuss the subject of Superboy the following morning. A hurricane drifted unseasonably high up the eastern seaboard and Superman rushed off to offer his assistance in any way he could while Lois rushed off to cover the story. When they finally found a few minuets to once again be alone together, they were wet, dirty and in Lois' case exhausted, certainly in no mood to discuss a new addition to their household. The subject of Superboy went undiscussed for some time after that.

…

In mid-September he and J'onn helped defeat the pair known as the 'Terror Twins' in New Orleans. Bruce, in semi-classical Batman fashion, had a plan to sneak two members of the Team into Belle Reve as undercover operatives. Clark had stood silently in the Cave's briefing room while the Dark Knight explained the mission, but he had really only been partially listening. Seeing Superboy again had reminded him that he and Lois still were yet to discuss the possibility of his coming to live with them.

Standing behind Bruce and trying to stay out of the way, Clark watched the boy's expression shift from the blank stare of a soldier awaiting orders, to sharp attention as Batman began to speak, to fierce determination when he singled the boy out as one of the operatives. The Man of Steel was quickly reminded that, while he resembled a sullen teenager and Bruce insisted the boy was his 'son', he was actually a living weapon, a weapon created to kill him. Did he really want to bring something like that into his home? Expose it to his family?

He did not speak with the boy at all either after the briefing nor at any point during their brief jaunt in New Orleans. After he'd neutralized Terror and sent him and his sister plummeting towards the 'switch-point' he had prepared to leave. His portion of the mission was over; Bruce could handle everything from there. Before flying away his super-human hearing couldn't help but pick-up a brief exchange of dialogue.

"But I don just gone toe-to-toe wit' Superman!" That would be Tommy Terror, his grammatically challenged southern drawl was rather distinctive. What surprised Clark was the person who answered him and their reply.

"Congratulations. That's more quality time than he's ever given me."

Clark recognized that voice, it was his own voice only two decades younger, it was Superboy. The boy wanted to spend 'quality time' with him? Why? They'd only ever been in the same room together a handful of times; they'd only ever spoken to each other twice. What reason could the boy have to expect any sort of 'quality time' from him?

He remembered the pleading gaze the boy had given him back in Metropolis the previous month. It wasn't that the boy expected anything from him, but he did want certain things from him. Namely, just some of his time. He might be a living weapon, he might have been created to kill and replace the Man of Steel, he might be just a clone, but he was still also just a boy and like all boys, he wanted the time and attention of a parent. Bruce had called him the boy's 'father'; did the boy view him in the same way? Was that the boy's only interest in him?

The kid might be a weapon, but what was a weapon but a tool? And what were the merits of a tool but the way it was used? 'He doesn't like to be called an "it".' Kid Flash's words once again echoed through his mind. If he didn't like being called an 'it' he probably wouldn't appreciate being compared to weapons and tools either.

Clark sighed. Bruce thought that him claiming the boy was what was best for him, but was that really what was best for the kid? Would it really be healthy to have the boy live with a person whom still viewed him, not as a fully formed individual, but rather a boy-shaped tool? A weapon that could be turned against the hand the wielded it just as easily as any other. If it was just him, he wouldn't have to think so hard about it, he could take care of himself, but would he be putting Lois in danger by inviting the boy into their home? Or, would he be avoiding danger by reaching his hand out to the boy and offering him the guidance and 'quality time' he seemed to crave so much?

He chewed on that question for a while, too.

…

"Lois, c'mon we're gonna be late." Clark paced the living room of their apartment with impatience. While their two year anniversary had actually been two weeks prior, this was the first night that both of them had actually managed to find the time to celebrate and he wanted to celebrate before some cookie-cutter baddie decided it was a nice night to try to take over the world.

"Oh, you actually made reservations somewhere?" His blushing bride emerged from the bathroom looking radiant in a blue silk gown with yellow trim. It hugged her figure, showing off the delicious curve of her hips to their best advantage while still concealing their creamy flesh to his eyes (well, to a normal man's eyes, if Clark wanted to see her creamy flesh all he had to do was…). She threw her arms around him and waggled a finger in his face. "Ah, ah, ah. There'll be none of that, you naughty boy."

"Lois, I'm insulted that you think I'd be so lewd as to-"

"Uh-huh." She crossed her arms over her chest, the action pressing her breast together in a way that was thoroughly pleasing to look upon. "So, what are we gonna do?"

Clark helped her into a heavy coat before handing her her purse and lifting her up, carrying her bridal-style to the window. "I was thinking we'd do a little dancing." He said. "Maybe make a little love… generally just get down tonight."

She gave a snort. "Smallville, you are probably the corniest person I know."

He waited to see if she would follow that up with a crack about corn farming in Kansas but she did not. Instead she changed the subject.

"But I meant, what are we gonna do about the Superboy?"

His happy-playful mood deflated at the mention of the boy and he backed them away from the window and put her down. "Lois, its our anniversary, do we have to talk about this now?"

"Its just that its been a couple months since you last mentioned anything about him." She said. "The last time we talked about him, you woke me up in the middle of the night to ask if he could live with us, you haven't mentioned him since. I would kinda like to know what's going on…"

"But do we have to talk about him tonight?"

"No, I suppose we don't." She admitted. It was hard enough finding time when the two of them could spend a romantic evening together. She didn't want to spoil it any more than he did, but his lack of mention about the clone had begun to bother her. "Just know that I haven't forgotten and I expect to have that talk some time soonish."

"Yes, dear."

…

It would be late November before the subject of Superboy came up again in the Kent household.

Lois and Clark had flown to Kansas to spend Thanksgiving with Martha on the Kent Farm. They sat around the table laughing and joking about the latest antics of the Smallville townsfolk, the misadventures of the Daily Planet in Metropolis and the latest exploits of the Superman. It was a perfect evening; the only thing that would make it more perfect was if Jonathan Kent were still alive to share it.

…But then Ma shattered the mood with the kind of calm command that only a mother could wield.

"I've been thinking." She said, folding her hands daintily in her lap. "You should convert the guest room in your apartment into a bedroom for the boy."

"What boy?" Clark had blinked in confusion only to realize what his mother must be talking about all to late.

"Lois and I have been talking, Clark." Neither her voice nor her posture changed, there was no outward indication that she was suddenly mad, but the Man of Steel had lived with his mother long enough to know when he had upset her. Forgetting about the boy had been his second mistake, but thinking that his wife wouldn't discuss a possible addition to the family with his mother had been his first (and bigger) mistake. "She told me that you mentioned an interest in taking in the Superboy I've been hearing so little about recently. I want to know why you haven't yet."

"I've been… thinking about it…" He answered her lamely.

"Well, its time to stop thinking and start doing." Martha Kent's eyes narrowed at her son. "You'll start by making a space livable for him, a teenage boy needs a room that's all his own. The next time Lucy or the General come by for an extended visit, I'm sure they can make do with your couch. You will invite the boy to live with you and you will make darn sure he feels welcomed, Clark, like he belongs. When he's settled, you'll bring him here for a visit. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, Ma."

…

In between chasing stories as Clark Kent, saving the planet as Superman and one very awkward Christmas dinner with the Lanes, the Man of Steel found himself spending his free time going through, rearranging and moving things out of the guest bedroom. He and Lois had been using it as a sort of home office-slash-storage room for evidence they might have collected on their cases, copies of old articles, photos (both personal and work related), etc.

Clark had been willing to shred or burn most of it, but Lois refused to destroy a single page. And so he had spent almost all of December and the first week of January flying copy-boxes from their apartment in Metropolis to either the Kent farm to be stored in the attic or the Fortress of Solitude to be copied into his archives at a later date. When that was done, Lois put him to work rearranging the furniture a bit.

The second bookcase had to be taken out; it took up to much space and made the room feel cramped. Lois made him move it into the living room and then stood back and gave orders as to how the rest of the living room furniture was to be rearranged due to the addition of the new piece. Clark spent two obnoxiously long hours doing that, it would have been longer, but to his unexpected relief, Intergang decided to rob the Federal Exchange with a tank, and that sounded like a job for Superman! Their adventures in moving would have to wait a bit.

When Clark returned later that evening it was to find that Lois had acquired a new dresser for the boy. (Because, apparently, she felt a closet wasn't enough.) The movers had left the solid wood chest of drawers in the middle of the living room floor and guess who she asked to move it into the bedroom for her. They then repeated the furniture dance for the bedroom just as they had the living room until Lois was satisfied with the arrangement and thought the boy would be likewise satisfied.

The desk stayed. She said the boy would need a place to put his computer and when Clark asked why couldn't he just put it in the living room where they had moved theirs she told him that she didn't want the boy doing what teenage boys usually did with their computers in the living room. At that Clark had politely blushed and dropped the subject.

…

It was towards the end of January and the boy's room was all ready.

Clark stood back and surveyed the room that he had made for his clone, the boy that Bruce kept insisting was his 'son'. For a moment the farm-grown alien hero had the insane idea that this must be what it was like for normal expecting fathers when making up a nursery for their child. He squished that thought back down very quickly, however. He was not an expecting father, Superboy was not his son, this room was not a nursery. He was asking the boy to move in with them, he wasn't yet ready to officially adopt him like Bruce had adopted Dick or Oliver had adopted Roy. And he certainly wasn't ready to start calling the boy 'son'.

Still, the boy was going to move in. All that was left was to actually speak with Superboy about the prospect. But once again, Clark found himself hesitant.

Lois entered behind him, her arms encircling his waist. "Are you excited?"

'Excited' was not the right word. 'Nervous' was more accurate.

…

Superman did not go strait to Mount Justice. Instead he flew to Gotham, he wanted to talk to the original 'Justice-daddy', he wanted to revisit their conversation from Bibbo's back in August.

The Dark Knight was reclining in his swivel chair, watching his monitors, his black booted feet resting up on the consol, his cowl down, a bowl of cereal in his hands. He seemed so casual and laid-back. Four years ago Clark never would have imagined he'd walk into the Batcave one day and find Gotham's Hero with his feet up enjoying a bowl of… what was that, Apple Jacks? Fruit Loops? All the brightly colored ones looked the same.

"Something wrong with your JLA comm. or did your farm-boy upbringing never teach you to call before dropping by uninvited?"

"I was kinda hopping we could talk." He cast his eyes about for the Boy Wonder and found him nowhere in sight. "Where's Robin?"

"School." Bruce answered flatly.

Right… that was another thing Clark would have to think about. Superboy was still a minor and would need to receive some version of schooling. With his powers it would be a little to dangerous for him to attend public school with other children, he ran the risk of easily hurting or even killing another student. But he and Lois lead such busy lives, neither of them would have the time to home-school the boy. He supposed they could hire a tutor, but on reporters' salaries they'd have to tighten their belts and budget carefully. Good educations didn't come cheap and unlike Bruce he wasn't made of money.

How was the Dark Knight handling the boy's schooling? Someone as careful and paranoid as Batman would never allow a civilian tutor to come to the boy at Mt. Justice. Was he having different Leaguers teach the boy different subjects, maybe?

"Listen… I, uh, I want to talk about Superboy."

Bruce set his bowl of cereal aside, lowered his feet down from the consol and turned his chair to face the Man of Steel. He folded his hands and waited for Clark to continue.

"I, uh, Lois and I were thinking… um…" Not for the first time the Superman found himself at a loss as to what to say on the subject of the Superboy. Perhaps it was because he himself hadn't quite yet sorted out his thoughts and feelings about the boy. He was firm in his decision to take the boy in, but that didn't mean he was sure of his view of the boy. Recently, he had been imagining him as a lost relation of his that had somehow managed to find him from across the cosmos. It was a nice fantasy, but Clark knew it wasn't true. But it was also the best explanation for how his perceptions of the boy were changing and how that change was starting to make him feel. "How's Superboy been doing?"

Bruce raised one quizzical eyebrow at the Man of Steel. "Lois wants to know this?"

"Well, no." Clark fidgeted under the Dark Knight's questioning gaze. "I was just wondering how he's doing… and stuff." 'Great, real eloquent, Kent!' "Its, um, its been a while since he and I last spoke… I just wanted to touch base and see if he's adjusting alright…"

It had been almost six months since the Man of Steel actually exchanged words with the Superboy and they both knew it. Bruce's eyes narrowed suspiciously at his sudden interest in the boy he'd been ignoring for almost half a year.

"Also…" Clark continued with increasing unease. He hated it when Bruce gave him that look. It was the same look he'd often seen the Knight give criminals from his gallery during interrogations, it made Clark feel as if he were being given the third degree when he was the one to come to Batman, not the other way around. "Also, I was wondering if you still wanted me to take the boy. Lois and I… we've made up a room for him and… and well, I… I, uh, I can take the boy for you."

Those narrowed eyes and questioning gaze did not change, but Clark could detect the slightest bit of surprise from the man. It was subtle, a slight shift in posture, he probably only detected it because of his superior senses and the fact they they'd been friends for so long. He had managed to shock the World's Greatest Detective! Great Scott!

"Do you want to take the boy in?"

Clark paused to consider his answer. The boy had been a great shock to him at first and that had been his reason for not claiming responsibility for him in the first place. Then, after the shock had worn off he had viewed the boy as a possible danger, he had been created to kill the Man of Steel and so would have no problems harming or killing his wife or mother. It had been for their protection that he'd continued to refuse to take the boy. But at the bridge he had seen, not a living weapon, but a lost and lonely child reaching out to him for guidance.

That had altered his perceptions of the boy greatly. It had also heaped onto him a great deal of guilt. And because of that guilt he became afraid of facing the boy for a different reason. That guilt had latter been compounded in New Orleans when he'd heard the boy's comment about 'quality time'. The boy wanted him, needed him and for the first time in his life, the Man of Steel, the Boy Scout, the Superman had turned his back on someone in need. Clark had spent four months chewing on that realization and come to the conclusion that he'd behaved in a despicable manner. The boy was blood of his blood. Even since he learned that he had been adopted, Clark had wished to find another living blood-relative of his, the boy wasn't a blood-relative in the conventional sense, but there was no denying that they were, indeed, related.

"Yes." He said at length. "Yes, I want to take the boy."

This time the Dark Knight's surprise did show on his face and Clark found the image of a shock-faced Batman sans his mask a little disturbing. The World's Greatest Detective wasn't supposed to be taken by surprise, especially not twice in one conversation. It took the man some time to find his voice again.

When he did, the Dark Knight said, "You've missed allot."

And so, they spent the next few hours going over the mission reports for the last six months. Bruce noting things of importance while Clark nodded his recognition. He was a little ashamed that the job of naming the boy had fallen on the Martians, naming a boy was supposed to be his father's job and Clark hadn't bothered to- Hold on a minuet! The Man of Steel brought his train of thought to a screeching halt. He was not the boy's father! He reminded himself firmly. He was taking responsibility for a clone he hadn't known about, not an illegitimate son he hadn't known about. Big difference! He was willing to admit to the boy being related to him, it would be difficult to deny anyway. He was taking the boy into his home and integrating him into his household. He would guide and support the boy as he grew into his powers. But he was not the boy's father.

He hoped none of his sudden internal turmoil showed on his face. Thinking the F-bomb in his head was one thing, but he didn't want to hear it from Bruce a second time.

Then they got to the botched training simulation, the psychic no-win scenario, and Clark halted his friend's narrative with an exclamation of, "Why didn't you tell me!"

The quizzical look was back on the Dark Knight's face and the Man of Steel regretted his strong emotional outburst.

"The situation had been dealt with before the day was even over." He explained. "There didn't seem to be any reason to worry the other mentors or parents over it. After they woke up, their families and mentors were briefed on what happened so they could look for and recognize any lasting effects."

"But why wasn't I told?"

"Honestly? After our conversation at Bebbo's, I didn't think you'd care." The Dark Knight answered flatly.

"His coma could have been permanent!"

"I was aware of that." Bruce raised an eyebrow. "I still didn't think you'd care."

"What kind of monster do you think I am?" Clark had no idea why he felt so strongly about this. It had happened back in October, the boy was obviously fine. There was no reason to get so worked up. "Of course I would care! He's my- !"

For a second time in the conversation Clark found himself slamming the breaks on his train of thought. His speech abruptly cutting off before the particular word that had almost escaped his lips.

" –clone." He finished lamely. "He's my clone."

…

When he returned home that evening Clark gave the boy's room another critical look. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe.

Maybe this was how normal expecting fathers felt; nervous, apprehensive, wary, unsure –overall conflicted. Maybe, somewhere between his conversation with Bruce at the diner and today he had come to view himself as the boy's 'father'. He had always known that he'd never have any children though normal means, but the boy –Conner- hadn't come into the world through 'normal means'. Perhaps a clone was the closest thing to a son he'd ever have, and perhaps on some level he recognized that fact early on. It had just taken his conscious mind a bit more time to catch up.

And Conner was already mostly grown. He could take care of himself in a fight. Clark wouldn't need to worry about the boy being in danger if (when?) he took him out with him as a sidekick. The Man of Steel smiled to the empty room. He'd also always said that if he were to ever have a sidekick it would have to be another kryptonian, someone with the same powers he had (or in the boy's case, someone who'll develop the same powers he has). It all seemed so clear and simple now. Like some missing pieces of a puzzle had been found and put in place. All was suddenly right with the world. He may not be the boy's 'father' in the conventional sense of the word, but since when was he a conventional person? Since when was his family ever a conventional family?

Behind him, Clark heard the door to their apartment open and the lights flicked on. He turned to find Lois in the doorway juggling groceries and he rushed forward to help her.

"Thanks." She smiled as she passed custody of the bags over to him and took off her coat. She scanned the apartment with her reporter's critical eye. "I can't help but notice that Superboy still isn't here."

"Conner." Clark corrected her. She looked at him in confusion. "Superboy's name, its Conner, Conner Kent."

"I see." It figured he'd end up with the same initials as Clark. "And where is the young Mr. Kent?"

Here Clark turned shamefaced. "Still in JLA custody. I haven't spoken with him yet."

Lois crossed her arm over her chest, planted her feet and dropped one him in a pose that Clark recognized as her 'annoyed' stance. "Well, you better step on it, Smallville." She said. "He might not be willing to wait around for you forever."

"I know." He replied soberly. "I already missed my chance at naming him."

"His civilian name, yeah, you really dropped the ball on that one." She agreed. Oh, Lois, you were so empathetic sometimes you could apply for Sainthood. "But I doubt anyone in your League would have given him a kryptonian name."

That perked him up. "Lois, you are beautiful!"

She smiled a sultry smile and crossed the small distance between them to press her body against his. "Hm, flattery will get you everywhere."

…

Clark spent the first week of February sifting through kryptonian boys names. He had narrowed his choices down to three, Jor-El III, Kon-El and Erok-El. Jor-El in honor of his father and grandfather, Erok-El after his ancestor, the first Bethgar of Urrika and Kon-El just because he liked the sound of it. Clark had written his final three choices out in Kryptonese to see how they looked aesthetically, hoping to break the three-way tie between them. He sat in the Watchtower's mess hall, tapping his Daily Planet pen on the stainless steel table in thought.

"Hey, Supes, what'cha' doing?" The Flash plunked his tray laden with food down next to the Man of Steel. "Some kryptonian word game or something?"

"No." Clark shook his head and allowed a tentative smile to creep onto his lips when he explained, "I'm trying to decide on a kryptonian name for Superboy."

Berry paused in his meal to stare shock-faced at the Superman. "For Conner?" He gaped. "Are you and he speaking now?"

"Well, no…" Clark had to admit. "But I will soon. Lois and I are gonna take the boy in and I just thought it might be nice to have a name for him, to show the boy that I'm serious."

"I… see…" The Flash fidgeted, suddenly very awkward. "Supes, um, a bit of advice from a 'Justice-daddy', you shouldn't take so long when dealing with children. They're young and impressionable and impatient. Its better to do things sooner rather than latter. Otherwise they'll decide that they can't depend on you."

"I understand that." Clark assured him. "I just needed some time to get my own feelings sorted out. I'm going to see Conner soon."

Berry patted Clark's red-caped shoulder with something the Man of Steel would have sworn was preemptive sympathy. "Good luck, Big Guy."

…

'Soon' for the Man of Steel turned out to me the first week in March. Shortly after he and Lois had celebrated Valentines Day there had been a call for some off-world aid and that sounded like a job for Superman. Clark had been gone two weeks, returning just in time for the months to change. He was frustrated with all the delays, but now finally seemed to have found the time and opportunity to speak with Conner.

It had been nine months since Independence Day.

…

Conner leaned most of his weight on Kaldur as he limped down the boarding ramp of M'gann's bio-ship. To spite a twisted ankle, an injury of his own making, the Boy of Slightly-Less-Durable-Than-Steel (apparently) couldn't help but grin with satisfaction.

"Best. Mission. Ever!" He declared. Then paused when he saw who was waiting in the hangar with Red Tornado. What was he doing here?

"Dude, are you mental?" Kid Flash zipped out of the ship only to skid to a halt in front of their unexpected visitor. "Whoa! You're not Batman!"

Well spotted, Wallace. Clark shook his head at Berry's nephew before turning his full attention to Superboy –his clone, Conner –his son. "How did you injure your foot?"

Conner glared at the Man of Steel with eyes full of distrust and guarded emotion. He missed, one… two… three beats before saying, "Its nothing for you to worry about." He lifted his arm from where he'd slung it over Aqualad's shoulders and limped over to Tornado. "Is Batman in the briefing room?"

The android gave his affirmative and the Boy of Steel began to limp out of the hangar. Miss Martian followed after him, insisting that they put some ice on it before Batman debriefed them. One by one the teens filed out of the hangar, each giving him a questioning or even suspicious look at they passed the Superman. Robin was the only one to stop and speak with him.

"His super-speed kicked-in in the middle of the mission." He said.

"That's great." Clark nodded. "That'll be one of the first things I'll work with him on."

Dick opened his mouth to speak. Thought better about it then closed it again. There was a prolonged pause, then the Boy Wonder said, "Wait until after the debriefing."

…

Clark did not attend Bruce's debriefing of the Team. He waited patiently outside for them to finish, leaning against the wall, his eyes focused on the lead-lined, sound proof, door of the briefing room. Ah, Bruce, your paranoia would be amusing if it weren't so damnably frustrating.

From the floor below in the hangar, Clark heard the computer register Black Carany's arrival on the base and sure enough, the blond bombshell appeared in the hall with him a few moments later.

"Hello, Dinah." The Man of Steel offered her a friendly smile.

"Clark?" She all but froze in surprise at seeing him in the Cave. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to pick up Conner." He said as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and he had to marvel at just how natural it felt to him. He felt an almost nervous pride whenever he mentioned the boy by name nowadays. Was this how normal fathers felt?

"Oh, I… I, uh, didn't know you two were speaking now." Dinah said awkwardly, suddenly avoiding eye contact with the Man of Steel.

"Well, we're not really." Clark admitted. "But I'm going to change that."

"That's… nice…" The fem fatal fidgeted, uncomfortable.

She was quickly saved from the awkward moment, however, when the door to the briefing room slid open, the meeting over. Upon seeing her, Conner rushed out, hopping on his good leg.

"Canary!" He beamed and threw his arms around her in an affectionate hug. "Guess what!"

"You're practicing for a hop-scotch tournament." She guessed in reference to his hopping on one foot.

Clark stood and gaped at the pair.

"I got super-speed!" The boy announced. "Do you know what that means!"

"That we've exchanged a bending forks and breaking glasses problem for a running into walls and melting shoes problem."

"No." The boy shook his head. "It means I'm not flawed!"

"That's great, Conner!" She stroked the boy's hair with motherly affection and then cast an apologetic smile to Clark from over the boy's head.

The others gave the three awkward glances as they filed out of the briefing room on their separate ways, all trying to escape their notice and avoid becoming involved in what would undoubtedly become a train wreck. Batman was last to exit. He look one look at Clark, glaring jealously at another mentor embracing his son with maternal warmth.

"Room's free." He said and stood back for the three of them.

"What for?" Conner blinked in confusion.

Dinah offered him a strained smile. "Conner, Superman has an offer for you."

The boy glanced between them, the guarded suspicion back in his eyes.

Bruce took that as his cue to leave, the Dark Knight slipping away with the slightest notice, as was his fashion, leaving the trio alone in the hall. They ignored the empty open room, Clark diving right into the conversation.

"Conner, I'd like you to come live with me." He said.

He had hoped that the declaration would melt some of the guarded suspicion from the boy's eyes, instead it only intensified the expression. He took a step back from the Man of Steel and asked, "Why?"

Clark supposed he deserved that, his distrust. He had been missing in action in regards to the boy almost since his first appearance nine months ago. He was ashamed of his behavior and sorry that it had taken him this long to get his feelings sorted out, but he was here now. He was reaching his hand out to the boy, ready and willing and wanting to give the boy the guidance and attention he's asked for back in August.

"Well, it would be a heck of a lot easier for you to be my sidekick if you're also in Metropolis."

Silence followed that statement.

Dinah placed her hands on Conner's shoulders, a silent statement that she would support him in whatever decision he made. Clark's eyes focused on the action and he couldn't help but feel a sudden stab of territorialism that was not in his usual character.

"And…" He added, now glaring a challenge at Black Canary. "I also wanted to give you a kryptonian name and officially adopt you into the House of El." A pause. "Conner, I want you to be my son."

More silence.

Then Dinah patted Conner on the shoulder and took a step back, ceding to Clark. "I'll leave you to alone."

The boy turned, a silent protest on his lips but he said nothing. Turning back to Superman, he glared up at the man whom looked so much like himself only two decades older. The Man of Steel expected an answer.

The silence dragged on.

"Conner?" Superman finally ventured.

"Don't." The boy said at last. "Don't call me by my Earth name. I'm sure you learned it from Batman, but I haven't given you permission."

Clark paused, thought, began again. "Last summer you asked me to help you figure out your powers. I'm ready to do that now."

"Batman's got that covered." The boy said, throwing his own words back at him, verbatim.

"Conner, I-"

"Stop. I've already asked you not to use my name once. If it happens again I'll report you to Batman for harassment. That is the word applied to the action of continuing an unwelcome behavior after being asked to stop."

Clark paused.

Superboy crossed his arms over his chest. "There's an old axiom Green Arrow told me not to long ago, 'if you give a man a fish, he'll eat for a night; teach a man to fish and he'll never starve', as a companion to that one, Aqualad also told me that people either 'sink or swim'. Both are metaphors for coping with trials in life. After you rejected me last summer I was forced to 'sink or swim', I chose to swim and I learned how to fish. I don't need you anymore, Superman and, frankly, I'm not really sure I want a person like you close to me."

Clark was shocked speechless.

"If there's nothing else, you can go now."

The boy turned to leave.

Clark found his voice again. "Don't… don't you at least want to know your kryptonian name?"

The boy paused but he did not turn to face the Man of Steel. "No, I don't."

He left.

…

END

[mellicose]

That Woman Over There - Chapter 24

A You Me and Him Fix-it Fic

Rating: Teen, for some mature themes

Word count: 3323

Warnings: none

Summary: ~ Set after the birth of Monty, Olivia’s baby ~ A dear friend of Olivia comes to visit for a week, and she disturbs the fragile peace between her, Alex, and John.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7| Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 |

He looked at Connie with adoration.

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one passing out after sex?” he whispered in her ear, then kissed her cheek.

“Stereotype,” she muttered, and rolled over to lay her head on his chest. Soon, she was snoring.

He gently inserted her mouthguard, and went down the stairs to the kitchen. He wondered whether he should make them a romantic dinner. He looked in his fridge for something to cook, but there wasn’t much in there. He’d been busy in the last week, and grocery shopping was the furthest thing from his mind.

He poured himself a glass of almond milk and squirted chocolate in it. It was one of his favorite tea time treats. As he savored it, he noticed the light on in Olivia’s kitchen. His sense told him not to bother her. But he couldn’t avoid her like she was the one who had done something wrong. Also, he missed Monty.

He ran across the back yard. He knocked on her door, bracing himself for possible verbal abuse. She wasn’t that type of woman usually, but maybe he deserved it.

She saw him and opened the door. She was silent, but her energy wasn’t negative.

“Hey, John. We're getting our things together. We’re going to gran’s house, aren’t we?” she said to Monty, who whizzed by in his walker.

“JUN!” He yelled, and waved his hands to be picked up.

“You’re going to your ma’s?” he said. He bounced Monty in his arms, and the baby tucked his head into his neck and smacked a kiss there.

“Sweet boy,” he said, and kissed the top of his head. “Have you had foods yet?” he whispered to him. He was a bit low energy.

“I haven’t had time to properly feed him something when he woke from his nap,” Olivia said. She folded clean laundry and put it into a large wheelie suitcase.

“How about some spaghetti?” he said to the baby. “With butter?” Monty didn’t like tomatoes.

The baby pursed up his mouth. “Mmmmm.” He looked exactly like Liv.

“Mmmmm,” he repeated, and nuzzled him. “Yum.”

He confidently went into the cupboards for the pasta and the pot, and put the water on the stove to boil. He carried the baby into the living room and sat down.

“Thanks for feeding Monty,” she said, folding a blouse and shoving it into her overstuffed suitcase.

“Have you eaten today?” he said.

Her mouth was in a straight line, and she was entirely too pale. “Now that I think about it, not really. Just tea and cigarettes.”

“Let me make you something before you go. It doesn’t have to be pasta.” Monty crawled out of his lap and to his toys on the corner.

She gave him a bruised look. He stood up to check on the water, and she threw down the pair of jeans she was folding and put her arms arounds him, hard. He gasped. It was the first time she had ever hugged so hard.

“Livvie,” he said, using the nickname he rarely used. She sniffed into his chest, and her shoulders shook. Even her tears were quiet. He held her closer.

“It’s over, John. She’s gone,” she said.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he said. She pulled away, and patted his chest.

“I’ve cried so much in the last few hours my eyes hurt,” she said. “I can’t do it anymore. I don’t know what I’m going to do, though. It’s terrifying.”

“What’s happening at your parent’s?” he said. He went to put the pasta in the boiling water.

“Closure, I think.” She sat down. “I’ll have to bite the bullet since they told me I rushed into things-”

He chuckled. “If 10 months is rushing it, I’m going light speed,” he said. “Anyway, please continue.”

Olivia bit her lip. “She told me I should’ve let her go the first time, when I was pregnant. They offered to let me stay there until I was ready to get back to work, but I refused their help. Then, of course, there was that nosy weirdo coming around to bother me all the time,” she said, and gave him a crooked smile.

“Any old excuse to visit a posh house,” he said.

Monty threw something that made a discordant tinkling sound. He wanted attention. John held out his arms for him, but instead of crawling, he pulled himself up by a large stuffed animal and stood there, staring at him intently.

“Uh-oh. You doing a dirty?” he said, and chuckled. The boy huffed as if insulted he would poop in such an august position.

“Don’t you be posh about it. If you gotta go, you gotta go,” John said.

“Tak,” Monty said indignantly. It was a nonsense word, but it felt a lot like hush. He pooched out his lips and flexed his chubby toes.

“You’ll make sure Alex is okay when she comes back and doesn’t see me?” Olivia said. He sighed. She bit her lip. “She told me what happened today.”

He crossed his legs and remained silent.

“She also told me what you said,” she said, searching his face. “About Monty and I.” He curled into himself. She put her hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t know we meant that much to you.”

“Of course you do,” he said, taking her hand. “You’re like family. I love both of you.” She let him hold her hand. After such a horrible day, it felt good. She remembered again that men provide a different kind of warmth than women, but it was no less necessary. She discovered it young with her father, but since she wasn’t attracted to men, it had slipped her mind. She squeezed back. “You changed my life.”

“You keep saying that, but I fail to see how,” she said. Her tone was gentle.

“I was a sad, lonely involuntary bachelor. Knowing you reset my mentality about what relationships with women could be.”

She sighed and looked away. He ran away to take the pasta off the boil. “Are you sure you don’t want anything, Liv? You should eat something. You’re feeding Monty.”

“A tomato sandwich, then?” she said, walking into the kitchen. He smiled.

“How does Monty hate tomatoes so much? You eat them like apples.”

“I suppose the father isn’t partial,” she said, and shrugged. “It’s so strange I don’t know things like that. I know his IQ and what hereditary diseases don’t run in his family, but not whether he bites his tongue when he’s concentrating. It’s a mystery.”

He drained the mushy noodles, and cut them into bite-sized pieces. “Would it be rude if I asked how it goes?”

“How what goes?”

“The process,” he whispered. He put a pat of butter on the hot noodles. Monty wobbled by on unsteady legs.

“Are you asking about a biology lesson?” Olivia said, suppressing a smile.

“No – I mean, I know how everything works, in nature. But do they bring a cup of … you know what and shoot it up there?” Monty fell on his bottom, and quietly pulled himself up with a kitchen chair.

“More or less. With insemination, the magic of procreation happens in an aseptic examination room with a deep breath, a prayer to your deity of choice, and a turkey baster.”

“Romantic,” he said, stirring the butter into the pasta. With a grunt, Monty pushed off and walked to his high chair.

“And you did it all alone,” he said, shaking his head.

“Does a doctor count? They suggested that I bring a partner to help make the way easier for the swimmers,” she said. “But that was a no-go.”

“Eh?” John said.”Make the way?”

“You know,” she said. “Fool around. Apparently, arousal ups the chances of conception.”

“Oh,” he said. He went into the refrigerator, and found some mashed squash for the boy. He dumped it in the still-hot pasta pot. “If I add some fried sage, you’d be eating as well as a prince,” he said. It was too silent.

“Where’d you go, boy?” he said.

He made a sound from the living room. When they looked, he stood by the window, holding the sill. He held his head high.

“Jun,” he said with finality. And he took a few perfect steps to the desk.

Olivia and John looked at each other, eyes narrowed.

“In the kitchen,” John said. He walked his fingers across his palm.

“Did we miss his first steps while talking about insemination?” she said incredulously.

Monty screamed to get their attention back. Then, he bit his little tongue, and walked to the sofa.

“Uh?” he said, looking at them. They started to laugh.

“My sweet, clever boy!” she said. She knelt to hug and kiss him. “Walking around like the lord of the manor. Do it again for mum,” she said. Both of them pulled their phones out. Olivia walked by the door. “Walk to mummy,” she said. He smiled, squared up, and took the wobbling steps to her legs.

They burst into fresh cheers. Monty squealed along. They kissed him until his cheeks were rose, and Olivia posted the short video on her Facebook.

“You’re gonna have to baby proof everything at your parent’s house now,” he said as he put the baby in his high chair.

“Why does he wait until you’re around to do these things?” she said, smiling. “You’re a good luck charm.”

“It’s chance,” he said. “This has been a week of milestones.”

“He really loves you. You’ll come to visit the house, right?”

He put down Monty’s food and held her hand again. “Of course. You’ll have cream tea ready for me on the patio?”

“You’re insufferable,” she said, smiling.

His smile faded. “I hope you know that regardless of what happened, you can count on me. For anything. You say the word, and it’s done.”

Just a year ago, she would’ve slapped him silly, thinking him a disingenuous twat. But so much had changed.

“I know,” she said. One last question pricked at her. He sat down and blew gently on the squash. Monty slapped the tray, eager to eat.

“John…” She sat down beside him. “You loved her,” she said, searching his gaze. “Alex. I knew it, since I love her.”

He tied the giant plastic bib and handed Monty his special spoon. “Do your worst, mate,” he said. Monty giggled and dug in. He rose to get him his sippy cup. Olivia wondered whether he would say something. When Monty had his juice, he sat closer to her.

“My love was selfish,” he said.

“Isn’t most love, though?” Olivia said.

“I don’t know. It’s jealous, sometimes. Selfishness hints at something else.”

“You said at mother’s that you loved her, at first sight. Although it felt like a punch to the chest, I recognized the feeling in myself. That’s how I knew it was real.”

“After 13 years of Mara, my perceptions were a bit skewed,” he said. He opened his mouth, then hesitated.

“At this point, you can’t hurt me much more,” she said. “Speak.”

“She shines. It’s something about the way she doesn’t care about what anyone thinks. Being around her is like getting carte blanche to be yourself too. It’s addictive,” he said.

“I suppose,” she said. He made a good point. It was also the first thing she noticed about her. At first, it was charming. As time passed, it grated on her nerves, since it started to feel like callousness.

“After a decade of being cowed into misery, it was a change,” he said. “There’s no silence with her. No mystery. Everything’s right there in the open.”

“Yeah,” she said.

Monty coughed, and they both turned to him. He took a deep drink of his sippy cup and kept working on his noodles.

“I wanted her, Olivia. I was honest with you about that. Really honest. I knew you were together, but it didn’t matter to me. And when the opportunity presented itself, I took what I could get.” She sniffed. He wiped squash from Monty’s cheeks. “I wasn’t always that kind of man. It’s not what I was taught, but I was angry at all the world and I didn’t care who I hurt to get what I felt I deserved.”

“Her and I weren’t married,” Olivia said. 

“I don’t mean to sound like a jerk, but it wasn’t about you two. It never was. It was about me, and what I wanted.”

“That’s love,” she said.

He tilted his head.”I hate to quote Holy Writ, but love is selfless. Sometimes to a fault. Like, irritatingly so,” he said, thinking back on all he endured for Mara. And, given the opportunity, all he would endure for Connie.

“I dunno,” she said. “I think the first symptom of love is clinging on to what you love, no matter the cost.”

“Perhaps, but I don’t think it counts if the person you love isn’t clinging just as hard to you,” he said. “That only counts if you’re battling together against outside circumstances. Not if, internally, your desires are at odds.”

She gave him a surprised look. He was much wiser than he let on.

“I wanted her,” he repeated. “But when I got to know all of you, the selfishness faded into something real.”

“I don’t understand how it works,” she said. She knew she was possibly being obtuse, but she had to know.

“It’s almost as if you’re upset I rejected her,” he said, his brow high.

She shrugged. “You won. After all this time, she chose you.”

“She wants me, yes,” he said. Monty threw his sippy cup to the floor and whimpered. He was done. “Are you sensing a pattern?” John’s face began to transform. There was hurt there now, clear as day. “I got a taste of my own medicine, and it was mighty bitter,” he said.

Olivia took off Monty’s bib and cleaned him with a wet wipe.

“I don’t get it.” She went upstairs to prepare a bath for Monty. He stared from the landing. “You can come up,” she said. He followed her like a wraith to the bathroom. Monty squealed. He loved bath time. She started a bath, and threw in the little ducky with the thermometer on it. The baby stood by the tub and did his bath dance, beautifully oblivious of what was going on around him. John sat on the lip of the tub and patted his head.

“I recognized the look, even before she told me,” he said. “It was the same eyes you and I had for her.”

She pulled off Monty’s clothes. He sighed happily when she took off his diaper. He rubbed his bare bottom pensively and waited for the water to be ready.

It took a couple of beats for what he said to sink in. She sighed.

“You get me now?” he said gently. She put her hands in the water and swirled some baby soap into it. Monty raised his arms, and she put him in the bath seat. He giggled and splashed around. She handed him a cup printed with cartoon sea animals. He put it under the water, then poured it over his own head. He took a whooping breath, then laughed.

She washed his hair, working the berry-scented suds through hair nearly as pale as the bubbles. He cooed with irritation, but didn’t fidget. John walked to the stairs.

“Don’t go. We’ll be right down,” she said. She put her hand over his eyes and rinsed his hair. He went into the kitchen and began to clean up. As he scraped the remains of the spaghetti into the trash, he realized how much things were going to change. The idyll was over.

His bedroom light came on, and the blinds shivered. Connie stuck out her tongue at him. 

He texted her. I’m fixing things with Olivia. I’ll be there in a moment.

His phone buzzed. You actually wrote all those words out? Ilysm

I don’t do the omg brb roflcopter thing.

Yr fingers r gonna b sore then 

She disappeared from the window.

I can’t wait. Have a drink on me until I text you. We’re almost done.

K

She appeared at his kitchen window, wearing a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. She waved a beer bottle at him. He blew her a kiss. She bit her lip, then lifted up the shirt and jiggled for him. He put his hand over his heart.

Saucy wench.

For you always 

She pressed the cold bottle to her nipple.

That’s gorgeous. 

He leaned over the sink and blew her a kiss.

“Anyone walking by can see you two,” Olivia said.

“Holy mother of balls,” he said, twisting around. Connie dipped out of view. Monty was brushed, sweet smelling, and in his pajamas. He sat down quickly to hide his semi, but he still blushed. “Sorry.”

Olivia shrugged. “I’m leaving. I don’t care about what the neighbors think anymore. I was watching out for you.” She sat down. “What about my sandwich?”

“Of course,” he said, bursting into action.

She put Monty in the walker, and he began to run back and forth between the living room and the kitchen. He found a crusty loaf in the bread box, but she stopped him. “It has to be soft bread, or it will crush the tomato when I bite into it and make a mess.”

“Ah,” he said, and grabbed the pan loaf bread that Alex preferred. “Butter or mayonnaise?”

“Mayonnaise. Butter’s not terribly good cold,” she said. He let himself be directed. “Cut the tomato thick. The slices have to have some body.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. He felt traces of Connie in her.

“Spread both slices of bread with the mayo,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “And after, cover them with very thin slices of cheddar. Last goes the tomato, with generous grind of black pepper and salt.”

He went through the steps, then cut the crusts from the bread. “Do you prefer squares or triangles?” he said.

“Triangles, remember?” she said.

He put the plate in front of her and sat down. She bit into a corner and sighed. Monty ran by and giggled. She picked up a small plushie on the tray of Monty’s walker, and threw it at the kitchen window.

“Eh?” he said as it flew over his shoulder.

“Connie’s making funny faces at me,” she said, and smiled.

He turned and blew her a kiss. She pointed at Olivia, then mimicked biting into a sandwich. She pulled up her shirt and sucked in her belly until the slats of her ribs showed. Hungry. Olivia stuck out her tongue and took another bite. Her eyes focused on John.

“You’re right,” she said finally. “I held on too tight. I suppose I wouldn’t have had to hold on at all if it was right.” She put her hand over his. “I’m sorry. For vilifying you.”

“I was a twat for a bit. I don’t blame you.”

“But you’re not one anymore. Most days,” she said, and smiled at him. “We’ll drive out tomorrow after Connie’s taxi. I will send a van for the desk. Will you watch the house if Alex decides to stay with her mum?”

The corners of his lips trembled. It was all too real. He hugged her tight.

“Alright, alright. We won’t be far. In any case, it’s looking like I’m just the first to move on,” she said, patting his back. When he pointed up, Connie was looking at them through the door. Olivia waved her in. John opened his arms to her, but she walked by and stole the other half of the sandwich.

“Nice,” John said.

“What? I love you, but I’m starving,” she said through a squishy mouthful of bread.

“John, can I order a couple more?” Olivia said.

“Coming right up,” he said, and stood with a smile.

[working-on-becoming-a-better-me]

Day 253—Mar. 23, 2021

Okay, so the numbers for my previous consecutive posts were off by a day (like a day ahead) and February 7′s math was way off, but I googled this! so from here on out, we will be accurate! let’s go bois!

BIG UPDATE BOIS! Essentially? I’VE GOTTEN BETTER! Mental health is better, habits are better, outlook on life is better, productivity... isn’t as high as it was when I first started the blog, but it’s doing MUCH better than November and even January.

coping with minecraft:

So, I’m still addicted to the dream smp minecraft fandom. my friend got me a dream hoodie, bucket hat, and a georgenotfound hoodie for my birthday. but! I’m coping better. I’m behind on streams, and am now catching up during Spring Break. For a while, I was pushing back school work to watch and catch up on streams. I promised myself that during free periods I would work since I was catching up on streams at home, and then... yeah. ANYWAY! I’ve gotten a lot better at that recently by noticing that even fanart accounts (accounts dedicated to mcyt-ers) were talking about how they didn’t watch a phasmaphobia stream because they weren’t interested in it, or talking about how they were behind on streams... it really helped me accept the fact that I can be a real fan and not watch every single stream.

cultural convention:

My international school does events with other international schools but because of covid, we can’t travel. I act and made varsity drama (we call it a different name, but yeah!) and we had virtual conferences. I was incredibly friendly and loud and there were tons of zoom calls. Our schools kinda known for being... uh, stuck up? and kinda elitist. Not like I was being fake, but I was making an effort to talk during calls and be active on group chats made. I joke-flirt a lot and focused my attention on one person. A whole thing ensued, but some of the other actors in my school (there were only 11 of us) were joking abut sending me to “horny jail” and one girl kept apologizing for me. During “lounge sessions” I would interject with what I thought were funny comments and she’d say “again, I’d like to apologize for her behavior” and... uh... I cried at school. Cuz I’ve heard way too many times from too many different people about how I’m embarrassing... BUT.

What really helped was the fact that there were late night zoom calls and I was one of only three kids from my school the first night on a call with around 25 people. Other people said I helped give them a really good first impression of our school, especially considering all the things they’d heard previously. The guy I joke-flirted with (I previously dmed him asking if he was okay with it and he said he was) said on a call that I was one of the funniest people he’d met in a while. It was a huge confidence booster in knowing that the efforts I was making were paying off :)

confidence:

Since starting this blog, I’ve been trying to be nicer to myself. I’ve been practicing more positive self speak and have recently realized the difference between the way I speak about and to myself and how some other people do. Being nicer to myself out loud has helped a lot in feeling better and more comfortable.

I wanted to try wearing black masks, but my mom bought the wrong kind. They had patterns and I was really nervous because I didn’t really want to stand out. I used to not care, but... I dunno. Teenagehood and whatnot. We wear uniforms too, so the only differences are in accessories, hair, etc. I’m not sure why, but I was really nervous to wear the new mask patterns to school. But I told myself it was an experiment, to force me to be more confident. I actually forgot I was wearing it until I saw myself. And since I’d posted on my private story saying I was doing this to try and be more comfortable, some of my friends came up to me and told me it was actually cute. Shows that I really had nothing to stress for. Not that it was really self-expression, but for me, and anyone else who needs to hear this, no one cares. Maybe they even wish they had the courage to wear different things as well.

mcyt mantra:

I have a mantra now! adapted from something drunk Wilbur Soot said during Quackity’s livestream, I think. I repeat it when I’m happy and when I’m nervous or scared and I guess... I dunno, I’m like classically conditioning myself? Except not really since I’m doing it out of order. But yeah! get yourself a mantra!!!

character day:

more with confidence! spirit week is just an excuse for kids to not wear their uniforms, but I put a lot of effort into an Ace Ventura outfit I put together. I only saw around two or three other people actually dressed up as characters, but I had so much fun and thought I looked amazing. I was proud that I wasn’t a normie ;]

Also... it’s so humid in this country and the rubber bottoms of my boots actually stuck to the pavement and fell off. I spent the day without the bottoms of my shoes and it was so funny. Even my mom laughed after (she laughed for so long, it was adorable) and she said only I could pull it off and that the friend I walk to school with everyday is lucky to have me as a friend. My mom was telling me about how she never had a friend like me growing up, just so weird and goofy. And it made me happy to think that I can bring so much... zaniness to people’s lives

ao3:

been writing a lot more recently! haven’t been posting on my writing blog since it’s all fanfiction, but it’s helping me write! I update one of my stories every two weeks. When I feel like I’m not doing enough, it’s a nice reminder that I actually can be consistent. I may be getting better... who knows :)

nehs:

been editing lots of papers even though I don’t need to anymore since I made vp of my school’s nehs chapter. but it’s helping me learn too! I’m very instinctual when writing, but obviously when I’m editing I can’t just ask them to change something because “it doesn’t sound right”. So I google explanations and then tell the people who’s papers I’m editing. It helps both them and me!

ipad/drawing:

got a new ipad for my birthday. been messing around with procreate. been doodling in class (only dream team characters so far lol). might be getting better... hopefully I am!

also have a sticky notes app on my ipad and been creating to-do lists! yay!

teaching:

been teaching students in cambodia! last year I had a teaching partner who guided lessons mostly. this year I’m the leading teacher. It’s helping with my fear of leadership and responsibility.

social:

still not the most social, but more active on snapchat now with keeping in contact with some of the cultural convention kids. covids made it harder to keep in contact, and I’ve been trying to reach out more to my closest friend who I’ve not hung out with in a while. not that we don’t see each other at lunch every other day, but I walk to school with, share a class and after school study hall with another friend. so comparably, I’ve spent less time with my closest friend.

recently had a spa day with my small neighborhood gang! my friend painted my other guy friend’s nails! yes! we used face masks as well :)

general update:

- went to the pool the other day and now I’m hecka burnt

- yesterday I wrote letters for honor society points, caught up on math hw, wrote a reflection and plan for a class, reviewed chinese with my mom, met up with my “mentor” for a class

- have been helping a lot of people! am currently a part of two people’s pieces for their theater class and I have a rehearsal later today!

- was doing a lot of work as an officer of thespian honor society—I’m likely going to be on the officer team again next year and, until a few weeks ago, I hadn’t felt like I’d been doing much and was feeling unworthy. but then I was proactive about something and updated our sponser (school’s drama director) on what we as officers decided. felt... prettyyy goooodddd :)

- !!! yesterday I went on a walk and brought money and my student ID, ready to buy bubble tea, but then... I mustered up what little willpower I had and then didn’t buy it. Instead, I bought surprise lilies for my mom (and some groceries she asked me to get)   - been trying to cut out unnecessary sugars and foods. if I’m not hungry, I shouldn’t eat, but also... I listen to my body and if I’m feeling really snacky, I’ll indulge   - recently been craving ice cream, but not the flavors in my fridge so instead I’m just not eating ice cream at all and ate an apple once as a substitute :D

- not sure if I’ve been sleeping more, but it kinda feels like I have been?

- started taking pictures of the world when I think it’s pretty one sunny afternoon when I was laughing lots with a friend... especially right after cul con, I was taking a lot more pictures...

- just been more active (not physically... though occasionally, when bored, I’ll stretch some... but I should try and get more active (I mean... the walk yesterday?))... creatively speaking (ao3, with art), socially online (cul con kids), in person (making plans over spring break!)...

- I just feel like I’ve been putting more effort into life

of course, there are the down bits, like for one project based class where the end product is due in May-ish and it focuses on the “process”... I’m just... not... process-ing. I chose a writing project (why). I’m focusing a lot on my side projects, but not my class writing one :/ as well as that, when assignments pick up, I do too, but when I get down time I feel like I deserve it (which I do!) but I don’t work ahead. I’ve been really busy though. Teaching got cancelled because the school in Cambodia shut down unfortunately due to covid. But before spring break, I was teaching, editing papers, writing my own for lang, doing cul con and then catching up on work I missed because of cul con, studying for tests, attending rehearsals... there’s a lot going on and I need to recognize that I am doing so well, especially compared with a few months prior when I was in a much darker place.

mostly stress has been my plague, but yeah! also in the span of one week, two classes bumped up a grade (or half a grade... we have letters and + system (no -)) so my previously low gpa became slightly less low! It gave me confidence that I can end the semester strong!

procrastination: another plague. I keep delaying setting up college counseling meetings and have delayed this update for a while now... and the project-class...

also have babysitting jobs again so we gon get some monnaayyyyy! (job is not from people we met at the pool, but we did meet people at the pool and their kids liked me so much they asked me mom to get me to babysit them... another boost to confidence! yay :) I’m a likeable person :] )

thanks for sticking around! I’m glad I’m getting this update in because I’m doing... really well :D hope you guys are also doing well or that it gets better!

[dhampyre]

It's been a rough more than a month since Shawn dumped me. Again, I do not believe he would have dumped me if it weren't for his mother telling him to do so. I discovered that my experience is a very common one: Indian men try to date non-Indian women, the Indian families won't hear of it, and the men end up dumping the non-Indian women. In the end, he tried to tell me he wasn't attracted to me, but I think that was total bullshit. I think he was very attracted to me and what happened was that he didn't want to admit that he is a mama's boy, so instead he rationalized in his own mind that he didn't actually like me and wasn't even attracted to me in the first place because that would help to not only preserve his self-esteem, but also make it that much easier for him to dump me. That's what I truly believe happened. The day after he dumped me, he called me and said he still had feelings for me. I really think he did and maybe he still does. But he will never defy his mother. I really think he loved me. Because he was being very serious. He talked about me being a part of his future. He talked about us moving in together. He wanted me to meet important people in his life. He called me every day after he got out of work. He made a huge effort to communicate well with me, spend time with me, initiate things, and get to know me. I really do not believe that a man who wasn't attracted to me would have done half of what he did, nor for as long as he did it, especially not for a woman who wasn't going to put out any time soon--which he knew I wasn't going to because I told him that I don't rush into sex. And he said that was ok and that he respected that. And we never even did it. He tried to tell me that he was forcing it, but I do not believe that anyone would force himself to be so inconvenienced. He went out of his way for me and nobody forced him to. I believe he did it because he wanted to. I think he knew all along that me not being Indian was going to be a problem. But he didn't want to believe it or thought he could deal with it and ultimately he couldn't. He still said some hurtful things to me in the end that I'm never going to forget. And I don't think I can be with someone who would hurt me like that.

I know it's not nice to wish ill on people, but I hope that he keeps trying to date Indian women and none of them are anywhere near as attractive, as fit, as educated, as intelligent, as successful, or as good as me. I hope he realizes that he keeps comparing them to me and that none of them can hold a candle to me. And I hope that they keep ghosting and dumping him even if he tries to force it with them. He seemed upset because women would do that to him. He talked about his exes and when I saw his OkCupid profile after we stopped going out, he answered "yes" to one of the questions that asked "do you have an ex you would like to date again?" I think he answered those questions ages ago, but I also think he may still be stuck on an ex of his. I think there were ultimately a number of reasons that he decided to dump me. But the main reason was because I'm not Indian and therefore his mother and family won't accept me. Indian people are honestly worse than white people. They are tribalistic, racist, and colorist. I already knew this was a problem in the South Asian community, but I didn't know how bad it was until this experience. Even though we had some differences between us, we had similar values, interests, and life goals. I really think we could have had a fulfilling relationship. I think he is in denial right now. I remember him telling me on the first date that I'm the full package. He told me on multiple occasions "I'm a lucky guy." I really believe he was being genuine. I am the full package--just not Indian and therefore not enough. It's fucked up. I hope he keeps trying to date Indian women and all of those attempts fail. I hope he has an arranged marriage and it turns out horribly and he ends up divorced. I hope that he marries an Indian woman, brings her back to the U.S., and has to support her to get an education here so she can work her. I hope he realizes right away that he doesn't like her and isn't attracted to her. But then feels stuck because he decided to go through with the arranged marriage anyway. I hope they dislike each other and realize within a few months that they need to separate. I hope he divorces her, but still has to finance her education and pay her alimony or something. I hope she ultimately gets her degree, ends up finding a new American man and lives happily ever after while he ends up alone and angry and thinks about what could have been if he had stayed with me. This is something that I have thought about a lot, obviously. And it's something that's extremely plausible. I think it would be just karma. I hope that's what happens. I think it would serve him right. If he won't even stand up for what he wants, how could I ever expect him to stand up for me? It really hurts the way things ended. I know it would have been worse if he hadn't told his mom about me and kept dating me anyway. And I think that's what he would have done. But a good man would not do that. So maybe he isn't as good of a person as I thought he was. I'm so disappointed.

Indian men keep liking me on dating apps. I wish they would just leave me alone. They will never marry me because I'm black. So they shouldn't try to date me either. I hope Shawn comes to some sort of realization that everything he is being taught is wrong. I think he already knows that it is. But he has to choose between his own happiness and his family's. Their love is conditional--not true. It's conditional on him marrying and procreating with an Indian woman. It's conditional on him doing exactly what they want him to do. He will never live for himself. And that's sad. I wish I could find someone who is better than him in every way. Someone who won't make me believe he's in love with me and then throw it all away. I honestly feel hopeless. I should be happy. I'm done with my interviews and now is the time to put together my rank order list for residency. I almost wish that Shawn had never responded to my message and that we never went out. Then I never would've had to experience the pain and heartbreak that I feel. He keeps watching my stories. He sometimes reacts to my Facebook posts. I am still trying to decide whether it's a good idea for us to remain friends on social media. I'm really unhappy. Every time I meet someone I like, even if he claims to like me back, he still won't choose me. I just want someone who will fucking choose me! I'm not happy.😞

[hope-for-olicity]

Fabulous Olicity Fanfic Friday - October 27th, 2017

Happy Friday! So this is my attempt to both thank awesome fanfic writers for their amazing work and offer my recommendations to anyone who is interested. Here are the fantastic fanfic stories I read this week! They are posted in the order I read them.

Blood Hands multi-chapter by @dust2dust34 - When new Bratva business comes to Starling City, it brings Oliver’s past with the brotherhood into sharp, ugly focus. But when it strikes too close to home, endangering the one person he never wanted that darkness to touch, he finds out his and Felicity’s pasts are more tangled than he could have ever imagined. (Set between 2x06 and 2x07) http://archiveofourown.org/works/3628926/chapters/8013672

First Impressions multi-chapter by @entersomethingcleverhere - Modern Pride and Prejudice AU: “It is a truth universally acknowledged that a young woman in possession of a great intellect must be in want of job that requires its use.” But Felicity Smoak seemed stuck in the quiet beach town of Hertfordshire forever. Will the handsome summer tourist and his snobby best friend save her from another season of boredom or will Oliver Queen’s stuck up attitude make Felicity want to strangle him before it’s even over? LOVED THIS!! http://archiveofourown.org/works/6033276/chapters/13834785

Dangling Soons by @smkkbert - Three years ago, Oliver dangled maybes on Felicity. Now, they seem to be dangling soons on each other. http://archiveofourown.org/works/12430644

Untitled by @smoaking-greenarrow - Prompt: Something fluffy where Oliver is exaggerating an injury because he likes Felicity giving him attention? http://smoaking-greenarrow.tumblr.com/post/166581873459/can-you-write-something-fluffy-where-oliver-is

"Next of Kin" 6x03 Spec fic by @millennialfangirl - 6x03 speculation and spoiler fic http://millennialfangirl.tumblr.com/post/166592837038/next-of-kin-arrow-6x03-spec-fic

Love and Little Cupcakes multi-chapter by @xtina-lynn - Felicity loved sweets so much that she paid no attention to her love life. Until Thea Queen came into her store wanting fabulous cupcakes for her sixteenth birthday. http://archiveofourown.org/works/12400539/chapters/28216053

If Loving You Is Wrong (I Don't Want To Be Right) multi-chapter by @smkkbert - They live in a society where the Ministry for Procreation decides who you get to marry. Once you get the letter with the contact details of your partner, you are supposed to marry within few months. Sexual relationships with any other partner are forbidden, even before you receive the contact details. Everyone who disobeys that law will be punished brutally.  Oliver and Nyssa have come to terms with that. Although they are married, Nyssa can secretly be with Sara, and Oliver can do whatever he wants to do. When Oliver decides to make changes, he falls madly in love with Felicity. Therefore, his life takes a pleasant turn because although they cannot publicly be together, at least they can be in secret. Things soon get complicated, though, when Felicity receives a letter that shall change her life. http://archiveofourown.org/works/11847900/chapters/26747613

First Night Oliver is Without Felicity by @marytagus - For work motives Felicity went to Central City that morning to come back the next. It's the first night since they are together that Oliver doesn't have Felicity by his side. http://archiveofourown.org/works/4835801

Black Smoak multi-chapter by @sammieathome - A mission gives Oliver the opportunity to finally see Felicity in Goth. http://archiveofourown.org/works/4296990/chapters/9737001

"I'm More Scared of Living a Life Without You" by Lilliclementi93 - After five months of adjusting, Oliver and Felicity talk about their relationship. Things are not as simple as they seem, and they must decide if they want to be together or not. http://archiveofourown.org/works/12446644

Redemption multi-chapter by @vaelisamaza Oliver returns for being with the League after five - this story gets better and better - you should be reading this! http://archiveofourown.org/works/9107518/chapters/22278866

Hidden mutli-chapter by LittleMissMint - Felicity is three months pregnant and hasn’t told anyone... (to be set as an AU parallel to Season 6) http://archiveofourown.org/works/12453663

Time for a Story multi-chapter by @smkkbert - This fic shows Olicity and their life as a (married) couple with family. Although Olicity (and their kids) are the protagonists, other characters of Arrow and Flash make appearances. YOU NEED THIS STORY IN YOUR LIFE. http://archiveofourown.org/works/3912157/chapters/8757172

Alarms, Latkes, and Complication by Weareallstoriesintheend - Oliver and Felicity are neighbors who have never met, but cooking disaster brings them together. http://archiveofourown.org/works/5537855

(Don't) Let Me Go multi-chapter by @emmilynestill - Felicity told him to let her go, but even when Oliver tried, it didn’t seem to be something he was capable of. In the end, there would be nothing in the world Felicity was more grateful for. Weaving in and out of the final four episodes of Season 5 and beyond, follow Oliver and Felicity’s emotional journey back to one another, one step at a time. http://archiveofourown.org/works/11591223/chapters/26051715

Red Looks Good On You by starrnobella - Finding out Oliver has never been trick or treating, Felicity takes it upon herself to give him an experience he'll never forget. http://archiveofourown.org/works/12458037

I Have Never Been Disappointed With You Before by @mrsgreenworld - Post 6x02 Now that Diggle is the Green Arrow what can it mean for the team? http://archiveofourown.org/works/12431826

What Happened in Vegas multi-chapter by @juleswritesallwrongs - It's all fun and games until you wake up hung-over and married to a stranger. Five years ago Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak made a drunken mistake that could never be corrected. After years on a hellish island he comes back as a man on a mission only to find out that what happens in Vegas doesn't always stay in Vegas. (Season One Rewrite) http://archiveofourown.org/works/2697512/chapters/6037037

As Easy As Falling multi-chapter by @charlinert - Felicity has just received tragic news when she meets Oliver, I believe there is hope, highly recommend but you will cry but not every chapter! http://archiveofourown.org/works/8035363/chapters/2254234

Pieces of Always multi-chapter by @so-caffeinated and @dust2dust34 - Life continues after Forever is Composed of Nows. Ongoing non-linear collection of family moments for the Queens. http://archiveofourown.org/works/8220479/chapters/18840356

Thursday multi-chapter by @someonesaidcake - There is something about the girl next door that Oliver Queen is only now noticing... Felicity is moving to college just down the road from where Oliver is a senior.  He suddenly becomes very protective of the girl next door.  Thursday night dinners might not ever be the same again. This story gets better and better! http://archiveofourown.org/works/10688658/chapters/23670255

Killer Frost Smoak multi-chapter by @tdgal1 - Felicity is with Barry during the particle accelerator and becomes Killer Frost. How does she handle this and does she tell Oliver? http://archiveofourown.org/works/8654356/chapters/19846777

Someone Else's Sky multi-chapter by @punchdrunkdoc - Oliver Queen, the Starling City Vigilante, moves out of his family home into a small apartment. But he has an unexpected roommate. A 'Just Like Heaven' AU http://archiveofourown.org/works/6231124/chapters/14276926

// @almondblossomme // @emmaamelia95 // @mel-loves-all // @oliverfel4 // @green-arrows-of-karamel // @coal000 // @miriam1779 // @memcjo// @captainolicitysbedroom // @tdgal1 // @spaztronautwriter // @lalawo1// @quiveringbunny // @quant-um-fizzx // @thebookjumper // @vaelisamaza // @myhauntedblacksoul // @lovelycssefan // @laurabelle2930 // @wrongshipper //