#potato can’t shade

[potatoes-of-wrath]

In honor of my pollen allergies (and spring, I guess), have a sakura Venoct!

[sadiie]

Not to end on the stan part of enjoying someone’s social media presence but following corpsegrinder on ig has been one of the better decisions. He’s such a great and proud dad and so geek about the whole plush toy thing. A delight to follow, truly

[parkerslatte]

Congratulations :) 21, 48 with azriel :)

A/N: Thank you so much and thank you for your request :)

_____

Hands To Myself

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: none

Summary: At a family dinner, Y/N and Azriel can’t seem to keep their hands to themselves.

Prompts Used: 21. You can't keep your u hands off each other, even though no one knows about the two of you. 48. "You've been smiling much more recently."

3000 Follower Celebration

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

From across the dining room table, Y/N met Azriel’s hazel eyes. The eyes that she loved more than anything. From a distance, all of the colours that made up the unique colour blurred together but Y/N knew all of the different shades of browns, grey’s and the small flecks of green. Looking into Azriel’s eyes was Y/N’s own personal work of art that Feyre could never quite capture accurately. They were so unique to him.

Y/N watched Azriel raise his fork to his mouth, clearly trying to fight off the smile trying to break out on his face. Even though she knew that it was a bad idea, Y/N smiled in Azriel’s direction. There was a lot to love and admire about the shadowsinger but the one thing that stood out amongst the rest was his smile. It was what drew Y/N in in the first place.

At first it was those small smiles he would only offer to people he barely knew as a greeting. Then it progressed to his smiles of comfort, and Y/N had been on the receiving end of one too many of those smiles. However it wasn’t long before those smiles of comfort transitioned to the smallest of smiles where a sliver of Azriel’s teeth were visible. Those were the smiles that his family usually bore witness to. Those were the smiles when Azriel was most at ease. 

However, as they grew closer and closer, Y/N began to notice Azriel’s smiles begging to get larger and larger. Showing off his one dimple on his left cheek. And it didn’t take Y/N long to notice that those smiles were reserved strictly for her. 

Y/N found herself smiling down at her food as she cut into a potato. Underneath the table, she stretched her legs out until she brushed against Azriel’s foot. Touch he didn’t react visibly, Y/N felt the slight brush of his leg against hers. Y/N glanced up and met Azriel’s eyes once more. All she wanted was to abandon dinner completely and drag him all the way back to her apartment on the outskirts of Velaris. 

But, alas, that was not an option. 

Y/N and Azriel had only been together for a little over five months but they had known each other nearly two years, ever since Y/N had been brought in to help Feyre with her pregnancy. Of course two years was nothing compared to both of their considerable lifetimes, but to both Y/N and Azriel, it was like they had known each other their whole lives. 

Soon after Y/N took Azriel out on a date, the two both agreed to keep their relationship private. Not because of what the rest of the Inner Circle would say, but because they both simply preferred their privacy and they knew that if the rest of the Inner Circle knew, it would only mean relentless teasing. 

At first it was easy to keep their relationship private but as soon as it began to get more serious and the attachment grew, it was harder and harder to keep their hands off one another.

After dinner, the group headed into the living room to relax in a more comfortable environment. As they all walked the short distance to the living room, Y/N and Azriel hung back, his arm caressing her lower back. Goosebumps immediately spread across Y/N’s body. She had wanted to feel his touch all night and now that she finally did, she craved more. 

“I can’t wait to drag you back to my apartment,” Y/N muttered, her hand wrapping around his. 

Azriel bent down so his lips grazed her ear. “And do what?”

Y/N tilted her gaze to look at him, her eyes meeting his. “Whatever you want.”

That beautiful smile lit up his face as his grip on her tightened the smallest amount. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

Y/N glanced to where everyone had disappeared in the living room, the hallway was empty. “Well there’s no one out here right now.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Azriel’s lips were on hers as he pressed her against the wall. Y/N sighed in content as she parted her lips and just let Azriel devour her. From hours of being deprived of his touch, all of Y/N’s senses were heightened and she could already feel herself becoming putty in Azriel’s arms to shape and mould however he wanted and she would allow him. Her fingers threaded in his hair and pulled him even closer. Azriel obliged and wrapped his strong arms around her body and pressed her against his. One arm was around her waist while the other gently cradled the back of her head so she wouldn’t bang it against the wall. 

The feeling of being in Azriel’s arms was like no other. Of course Y/N had had her fair share of lovers in the past but none had been as attentive and caring as Azriel. He had waited over five hundred years for a love like Y/N and now that he finally had it, there was no chance he would ever let it go. Y/N savoured every touch, every word of affirmation, every single moment they spent together. She savoured them all. Of course she knew that there would be many more to come but that was just how it was with them, the amount of love shared between the two was unlike any other either of them had experienced before. They were each other’s salvation. 

“Come on you two!” Cassian’s voice chimed from the living room. “We have Rhys’s good wine!”

Y/N and Azriel pulled away from one another and Azriel reluctantly stepped back. “We should go, before they get suspicious.”

“Yes we should,” Y/N agreed.

Neither of them made a move for the living room. Y/N simply chuckled as she leant up and pecked Azriel’s cheek. “Come on, or we never will.”

Azriel followed, his hand clasped in Y/N’s but as soon as they were outside of the living room door he dropped it. Y/N immediately felt the warmth of his hand disappear and she sighed. 

“There you two are,” Cassian exclaimed. “I was about to search for you.”

Azriel simply rolled his eyes and took a seat on the couch and Y/N followed, squeezing herself in the only available spot next to him. Her whole side was pressed against his. Y/N wasn’t sure that this was a particularly good idea as all she wanted to do was curl up to his side. As hard as it was, she refrained herself. 

Y/N tilted her head to look at Azriel and he sent her a smile. Y/N returned it. 

***

The alcohol had hit everyone and Y/N had found herself with her back against the arm of the couch while her legs were draped over Azriel’s lap. She was on her fourth glass of wine and the only thing she could think of was the male she loved so dearly. His hand rested on her shin and his thumb traced patterns upon the soft skin. Of course when she and Azriel were more sober, they had refrained from any touching that wasn’t necessary, but now that had gone out of the window. Y/N wasn’t even entirely sure that Azriel realised what he was doing. 

While Y/N sipped on her glass of wine, she threw her head back and laughed at something Cassian had said. The grip on her shin slowly rose until it rested just above her knee and Y/N felt like her body was on fire. She was just glad that everyone else was affected by the wine as she hoped that none of them even noticed. 

“What about you, Az?” Rhys said.

Azriel tore his gaze away from Y/N for a brief moment to look at his brother. “What about me?”

“You’ve been smiling much more recently,” Rhys said, his arm tightening around Feyre’s shoulders. “Care to tell us the reason why?”

Azriel shrugged, though his grip on Y/N’s thigh tightened. Y/N knew that she should move position, maybe sit away from Azriel but his touch was simply addicting.

“I don’t know,” Azriel answered, looking around at the rest of his family, his gaze lingering on Y/N for a second longer. “I’m surrounded by my family.”

Cassian laughed, throwing his head back. “We should get you drunk more often, you turn into much more of a sap.”

Azriel glared at Cassian before his hand travelled higher on Y/N’s thigh. 

“Oh, Cass, leave him alone,” Y/N said, laughing. “It’s not his fault that he loves us all so much that he smiles when he thinks about it.”

Azriel looked at Y/N and tried to fight the smile but failed miserably. 

“See? He’s doing it now,” Y/N said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. 

Y/N wasn’t sure exactly what came over her as everything about their position was not subtle. Somehow throughout the duration of the conversation she had found herself sitting on Azriel’s lap and one of his arms was wrapped around her tightly holding onto her hip. She wished she had never drunk as much as she did, maybe then she would have more self control. 

It seemed as if Azriel didn’t care as he only looked at her, nothing but love in his eyes. There was a smile on his face though not the one only she was allowed to see. This was different, it was one Y/N had never seen before and she wished to see again. This smile communicated so much in such a smile gesture. I love you, the smile seemed to say.

Those three words had never been exchanged between the two, of course they both loved each other but neither had said it yet. Saying it made everything real and even though both Y/N and Azriel were very sure that the only thing they wanted was each other, it was still scary. 

Y/N found herself leaning closer to Azriel. She closed her eyes, wanting nothing more than to press her lips against his and utter those three simple words they held so much weight. But she couldn’t, not with everyone around. 

Reluctantly, Y/N pulled away and Azriel pulled her closer, unable to keep his hand off her. The desire for him gradually rose the more he touched her. Even when he conversed with Cassian and Nesta and Y/N conversed with Elain and Lucien, she was hyper aware of the places Azriel was touching on her body. She needed him desperately. And from the way Azriel was gripping onto her, he clearly felt the same. 

As soon as Azriel’s attention was back on her, Y/N leant down to whisper in his ear. “Let’s go home.”

Azriel looked into Y/N’s eyes and that one look held the same three words his smile did and he knew in that moment that he needed to leave with her in his arms.

Y/N finished the final sip of her wine before slipping from Azriel’s lap. “I’m going to head home, I’m quite tired and I’m meant to be at work early in the morning.”

“I can walk her home,” Azriel offered almost immediately, rising to his feet. Y/N smiled up at him before bidding goodbye to everyone.

As soon as they left the room and were safely around the corner, Y/N gripped onto Azriel’s hand and as soon as they were in the cool night air, she tugged him down and pressed her lips against his. 

“I love you,” Y/N said, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

Azriel smiled, the one smile Y/N had fallen in love with. “I love you too.”

Y/N sighed in content as she rested her forehead against his. “I am going to love hearing that every day.”

Azriel didn’t respond as he captured her lips once more in a short and sweet kiss before wrapping an arm around her waist. “Let’s go home, my love.”

Y/N smiled and happily walked home with Azriel, her heart bursting with love.

***

As soon as the group heard the front door close, Cassian turned to the rest of the group. “For the spymaster of the Night Court, he is not very subtle.”

“Did you see Y/N?” Nesta said. “She was practically undressing him with her eyes at dinner.”

“How long do you think they’ve been together?” Elain asked. 

Rhys leaned back on the couch. “I can tell you exactly how long they’ve been together.”

“Oh yeah?” Nesta challenged. “And how long exactly, Rhysand?”

“A little over five months,” Rhys replied. “Az was late for a meeting with me and when he finally arrived over an hour later, I had never seen him smile as much as he did.”

A soft smile made its way onto Feyre’s face. “I always had a feeling ever since they met. They just click.”

Rhys smiled at his mate. “I’m sure they are mates, the bond hasn’t seemed to snap just yet.”

“And you are so sure of that?” Feyre questioned.

Rhys nodded. “I am, because he looks at her like she holds the world in the palm of her hands. And that Feyre, darling, is exactly how I looked at you.”

Feyre smiled and pressed her lips against Rhys’s in a quick but soft kiss. “I’m glad, they both deserve all of the love in the world.”

[amirasainz]

The avengers of Formula 1

request: Would love to see baby sainz suddenly approached by a male who is not in F1 and suddenly everyone shows up like the avengers to scare him away ❤️❤️❤️

It was a sunny day at the Marina Bay street circuit. It was the first time Amira had ever visited Singapore. One could clearly see how delighted Carlos was to have his baby sister by his side.

As they entered the paddock, the Sainz siblings were surrounded by Carlos’s fellow colleagues. Of course, it was just a coincidence that Lewis, Lando, and Oscar were at the entrance as well. It’s not like they had been waiting there for the past 20 minutes.

As soon as Carlos saw them, he knew what he had to do. “Hermanita, look! There’s a bit of shade. Why don’t you sit down and wait for me for a second? I will come back with an umbrella. We wouldn’t want you to get a sunburn, right?”

“Okay, Chilli,” she answered with a dimpled smile. Carlos swore his heart melted. He leaned down and gave her head a quick kiss. When he turned around, the other drivers were already approaching. After a quick look back at his hermanita, Carlos began to drag those demons away from his darling sister.

“Hey! You can’t just drag me away like a potato sack, you muppet!” Lando complained. Lewis and Oscar followed them like little children.

“Muppet? MUPPET?! You do not get to call me a muppet when you’ve been lurking at the entrance like a… a… como un bicho raro!”

When Lewis and Oscar started to chuckle, Carlos immediately turned to them. “And YOU! How dare you wait for my sister. I expected it from Lando,” “Hey!” “But you two? Unbelievable!”

During their scolding, the quartet was approached by other drivers. Charles was gloating with happiness. For once, he was not on the receiving end of Carlos’s yelling.

After some time, it was George who interrupted Carlos’s yelling. “Oh, what the hell?! Who is THIS idiot?” All the drivers turned to look at what George was pointing at.

There she was. Amira Sainz was talking to a man. A stranger! From far away, they could see the guy trying to flirt with her. But baby girl was that dense and thought he was just a nice guy trying to strike up a conversation.

When he sat down next to her, the other drivers exchanged amused glances. Carlos clenched his fists, ready to intervene if necessary. Little did he know that this chance encounter would change everything.

When he sat down next to her, the drivers saw red. How dare he sit down next to her, talk to her, or even breathe the same air as her?!

Quicker than a Mercedes F1 car, all the drivers sprinted to her side. The air filled with screams of “Oi, Idiote!” and “Hijo de puta!” and “Back the fuck off, dude!”—followed by Oscar’s emphatic “Stranger Danger!”

Imagine Baby Sainz’s surprise. One second she was chatting with the friendly stranger who called her the most beautiful girl in the world, and the next, she was engulfed by her brother and her friends. From the outside, it looked like a massive puppy pile.

While the drivers were busy scolding the man (and ensuring he’d be banned from the track), Carlos raced to Amira’s side. He instantly dropped to his knees and cradled her face in his hands.

“Pobrecito mío. ¿Este idiota te estaba molestando? ¿Estaba siendo grosero? ¡Oh, Santa María, estás tan pálida!” During Carlos’s rapid-fire rant, she just stared at him with wide eyes. When she made a confused noise, he immediately stood up, took his sister’s hand, and led her toward the parking lot.

“Oh, my poor hermanita. I’m so sorry. Let’s go shopping and grab something to eat. That must have been really scary!”

With that, the Sainz siblings left the track and headed to the nearest high-fashion shop.

As for the man? Well, let’s just say he vanished from the racing scene—never to be seen on any track again. 😇

Let me know what you thought about this littles piece. My request are OPEN. I will try to update as soon as possible💕

-XoXo

@barcelonaloverf1life @omgsuperstarg @formula1mount @xoscar03 @stinkyjax @khaylin27 @iamapersonwholikesunicorns @tinyhrry

[rianavi]

this is me trying…

luke castellan x artemis!daughter!reader

part 1, part 2, part 3

summary; you try to express your feelings to luke’s in your own twisted way

series masterlist

the days that followed were quite peaceful, you trusted luke much more now that you knew he actually cared about you. you guys seemed to be even more inseparable than before, no one ever found one of you without the other.

in his eyes, he noticed that you seemed more trusting toward him, you smiled more and even laughed at some of his terrible jokes. he was quite happy and couldn’t stop smiling.

“what’s got you in such a good mood?” chris sat down across from him during lunch.

luke looked up with a bashful smile on his face. he was playing with his food before, he swore he could see your face in the mud of mashed potatoes. “huh?” he responded when he realized he was being asked a question.

“i said, why are you so happy?” chris retaliates with a joking roll of his eyes. “something happen?”

“no, it’s just-“ he’s cut off when he hears your voice. stretching his neck, he finds you talking to a girl from your cabin in the line to get food. you’re not smiling or laughing - like you did with him - you’re just talking about archery, offering tips to the younger girl next to you. still, it’s enough to get luke’s attention.

he’s grinning sheepishly, eyes blown wide, and cheeks dusted with a crimson shade of pink. when you get your food and turn toward your designated table with luke you smile softly and if it’s even possible, he grins wider.

when you sit down next to him he turns toward you and speaks so quietly so that chris can’t overhear him. “hi,” even the smallest word out of his pretty mouth has you smiling and pink rising up your neck. “hi,” you mimic before turning to look down at your food.

“oh, i see now.” chris speaks up, he’s uncomfortable now, feeling like he’s intruding into your guys’ own private world.

in all honesty, you didn’t even notice that he was there. “what?” luke speaks up after you both stare at him for a minute. “oh nothing,” he rolls his eyes again before clearing his throat and getting up, moving to a different table.

you turn to luke with a confused face “what was that about?” he shrugs and turns back to you, not being able to stand looking away from something so beautiful in his eyes. “i don’t know, it doesn’t matter. how has your day been?” he asks, a smile taking over his harsh features.

you fight off the urge to trace his scar - now scrunched up slightly - with your finger. “it’s been fine, quite boring actually, haven’t had anything to do.”

luke on the other hand fights off the urge to make a dirty joke, you could do me, is what he wanted to say, instead he settles for, “we could go back to your cabin, none of your siblings are ever there anyways.” he suggests.

you agree briefly then stand up and make your way to the fire pit, luke trailing right behind you like a protective dog.

when you guys arrive at your cabin, you find it empty, indifferent from most days, unless it was raining then your siblings would be found outside, and even then it didn’t stop them.

you make your way over to your bed and just before you’re about to sit down, luke comes running and jumps onto the bed. groaning dramatically and spreading his limbs out as far as he could, the twin beds not allowing much room to sprawl out.

you roll your eyes at him, forcing down a smile and poking at the side of his chest. “move over,” he just looks at you and smiles wide ignoring your request.

you shove at his shoulder with very little force, “move over,” you drawl out the r. “there’s room,” he looks away from you, taking your pillow and adjusting it under his head.

before you could overthink it, you flop down onto the bed - well onto luke - and he groans. you’re facing him, arms pulled in between you and his chest, head resting on his arm, while your legs are resting between his.

once you realize how close you are, you attempt to move away from him to create some sort of room. before you can, he turns to face you and wraps his arms around your waist, forcing your head onto his chest.

it’s comfortable like this, you think, and out of instinct you move your head to look at his face. to your surprise he’s already looking at you with wide, twinkling eyes. your faces are so close and the silence becomes overwhelming.

after about a minute of staring at each other, his eyes flicker down to your lips and you stomach twists - something that only happens when you’re with him - and you start to feel hot, as if you want to crawl out of your skin.

he starts to lean in slowly and you can’t help yourself.

the silence, the heat, the close proximity, it all becomes too much and you lean back.

you fall off the bed with a soft thud, your elbow is tucked awkwardly underneath you and it sticks into your side. you groan and close your eyes, not being able to bring yourself to look at luke.

he feels embarrassed, thinking he did something wrong, did him trying to kiss you really make you fall off the bed, is it that bad for you. thoughts of worry flood his mind and he doesn’t even think as he stands up off the bed and scratches behind his neck.

you feel embarrassed, you’re laying on the floor still and too scared to open your eyes. you grimace at the thought of him laughing at you and don’t even realize his paranoid state as he speaks.

he can’t take it anymore and stumbles over his words as he excuses himself. “um- i- i’m gonna go, i- i have something to do.”

the sound of his voice has your eyes opening automatically and panic courses through your body - something you’ve only felt one time before. -

“w-what, why are you-”, you’re cut off as he scrambles away from you and out the cabin, leaving you by yourself, on the floor and alone, again.

[mediumgayitalian]

“Halt!”

Across the common, three suspicious figures freeze, glance behind them, and then resume walking as casually as they can.

“I said halt! Do not move! Cease all function!”

Milling nervously towards each other, Dumb, Dumber, and Dumbest pause, shifting the three massive cardboard boxes they hold each.

“Hi, Annabeth,” Will says, smiling innocently. Cecil and Lou Ellen match him, eyes wide, expressions angelic.

Annabeth stomps over to them, arms crossed tightly over her chest. She is entirely unmoved by the cherubic display in front of her. Nico stays right where he is, hidden by the shade of Cabin Eight.

“Explain yourselves,” Annabeth orders.

The three stooges exchange a look.

“Whatever do you mean,” Lou Ellen asks, shifting the boxes to free up her hand only to place it delicately over her chest. “Why, we are only helping our dear friend William —”

“Our dear, dear friend,” Cecil adds.

“— carry these many boxes of medical supplies, so as to lower his great burden —”

“Massive burden,” Will says sagely.

“— and free up his evening in order for him to spend his limited time with us, his most cherished friends.”

“Especially cherished,” Will and Cecil chorus together.

Unable to bite back a smile, Nico rolls his eyes so hard his skull hurts. They’re not even trying to not get caught, at this point.

Clearly agreeing, Annabeth scoffs. “Yeah, right. Boxes down, all three of you. You’re being detained for suspected illicit substances.”

“Annabeth!” Will cries, mock outraged, “after all I do for this camp, you would accuse me of being — illicit?! Me?! The outrage! The insult! The impugn, the —”

“Can it, Solace. Open the boxes.”

Huffing in perfect unison, the three of them carefully lower their boxes to the ground.

“Tape off.”

Intentionally slowly, they run a nail along the edge of the packing tape.

“Flaps open, guys, c’mon.”

With flourish, the trio fling open the thin cardboard panels. Inside each box is rows of bandages, packaged syringes, sterile bands, tongue compresses, and more that Nico can’t name.

“See?” says Cecil, gesturing grandly. “The shipment just came in from my dad.”

Annabeth’s eyes narrow. “Your dad is in a conference with the rest of the Olympians right now, Markowitz.”

“Well,” Cecil says, and then nothing else.

“He meant it in the royal sense,” Lou Ellen pipes up in his silence. Cecil nods frantically. “You know, ‘just’ as in, like, recently, as in this morning —”

“Do you three think I’m stupid —”

“It’s just medical supplies! You can look through them if you want —”

Even if they weren’t acting like criminals, Nico knows his friends. He knows his boyfriend, especially, and recognises that damn look on his face. He can also physically see Annabeth’s stress ulcer coming back.

Closing his eyes, Nico fades into Cabin Six’s shadow. It’s a quick jump, so the stretch is easy, and the darkness bows easily to his hold. He reappears silently behind the group, taking advantage of the setting sun, and darts out to grip Lou Ellen’s arm.

“Boo,” he whispers.

She shrieks at the top of her lungs, jumping three clean feet in the air. Coincidently, the boxes of medical supplies flicker, turning into a truly baffling amount of instant mashed potato boxes as her grip on the Mist loosens.

“I knew it!” Annabeth shouts.

On cue, all three doofuses turn to Nico, jeering and complaining about ‘ruining the fun’. Nico’s glare is ineffective on Doofus #1, but the other two can be cowed. He focuses on channelling the flames of hell to reflect in his eyes like his father showed him until they look away, muttering at the ground.

“We still don’t have any illicit substances,” Will insists, glaring right back. Nico sticks out his tongue. He crosses his eyes like a four year old. How immature, honestly. “So we’re just gonna take our stuff and —”

“Absolutely not, Golden Boy. Put that hand away.”

Wisely, Will draws slowly back from the boxes, tucking his hands in his pocket.

Annabeth stares, hard, at the three of them, flicking her dark eyes from the potatoes and back. The tips of her worn-out converse tap slowly on the packed grass, tip-tap-tip-tap, as they all squirm.

Understanding suddenly dawns on her.

“It’s supposed to rain tomorrow, for the strawberry plants.”

They squirm harder.

“Oh, you godsdamn bitches.”

“It would’ve been really funny,” Cecil mumbles, staring at the ground. “Rain making the ground turn into a sea of mashed potatoes. Like Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs.”

“The only meatballs around here are the ones clogging up your skull!” Annabeth shouts, which doesn’t quite make sense but sounds clever coming from her anyway. “Who was gonna clean that up, huh? Magic?”

“I mean, probably,” Lou Ellen says, promptly shutting up at Annabeth’s glare.

“And you, Will! I cannot believe! Where is that responsibility you’re known for, huh?”

Will pouts. “I can be responsible and do fun things.”

“Fun, he says. I’m going to fucking kill you. The one day I’m left in charge, I cannot believe —”

“If it helps, it’s less about you and more about April Fools being tomorrow,” Cecil interjects tentatively. “Like, we were going to do this whether or not Chiron left.”

Annabeth glares darkly. “Of fucking course you were. It’s always you three, I swear to the gods. I should have known.”

“It’s honestly kind of embarrassing for you guys, stopped before you’re even started,” Nico adds. He smiles smugly at them, relishing in their rolled eyes and mocking hands. “Like, everyone expected this. You did this to yourselves, honestly.”

“Boo, you jag,” Lou Ellen protests. The other two knuckleheads joint in the booing, Will taking it an extra stop forward and blowing a raspberry, both thumbs pointing down. Nico responds with a bright grin and two middle fingers.

“Enough,” Annabeth says, rubbing her temples. “Extra chores, all three of you. Go help the cleaning harpies until sundown. And not another peep of complaint or I’ll have you on chores tomorrow, too.”

Without another glance at them, she turns around and walks away, muttering at least you caught it early at least you caught it early at least you caught it early over and over to herself.

“Pretty sure you guys have physical labour to do,” Nico says brightly when she disappears into the Big House. “I’d get started on that, if I were you.”

“Butthead,” Cecil mutters.

“Kiss-ass,” Lou Ellen agrees, making a face.

“Traitor,” Will whispers, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he walks past.

Nico watches them go, standing guard over the boxes in case they try to come back for them.

He can’t help but think that they all look a little too jovial for having their plans ruined before they even started.

[violettduchess]

A/N: This won the poll and it was such fun to write 💜

Clavis x Reader

Prompt: Kissing While Laughing

WC: ~560

“Where do you think you’re going? It’s about to pour!”

“Ack, Jin! My goodness, you scared me. I wanted to bathe and wash my hair but realized I don’t have any more soap. I was hoping to hurry into town and buy some quickly before it starts raining.”

“Look, the first drops are already falling. C’mon. I’ve got something you can have. Clavis gave it to me a few months ago for my birthday but I’ve never even opened it.”

“Really? Aw, you’re a lifesaver! Thank you so much!"

Half an hour later

“CLAVIS!!!!!”

“I’m here, sweet wife, but I thought you said you wanted a moment’s peace in order to— Oh......Oh my……”

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

“Me? I-my goodness, that certainly is……a look.”

“I borrowed the shampoo you gave Jin for his birthday and now I look like this!!!”

“You did what? Oh….oh....oh dear, my sweet lamb, my darling. W-why would you do that?”

“Clavis, stop giggling! This isn’t funny. LOOK AT MY HAIR!”

“I-It’s a most fetching shade of……what can we call it? Sunset? Marigold?”

“Clavis! IT’S BRIGHT ORANGE!! I look terrible….."

“Oh no, no my sweetheart. Don't sob. Come here, come to me. That’s right. Let your fantastic husband offer you the sweet comfort of his embrace and–ow!”

“WHY WOULD YOU GIVE THIS TO JIN?!”

“Because it's funny! Don’t tell me the notion of that ladies man suddenly having hair the color of an orangutan isn't funny!”

“I LOOK LIKE AN ORANGUTAN?!”

“No, no my dearest one. No, you don’t. Come, let’s sit on the bed. That’s right, here’s a tissue. Come here, my love. Right here, let me hold you close. Ahhhh, isn't that better?”

....Sniffle....

“Now, let’s wipe away those pesky tears from your angelic face. While it certainly is a change….I can assure you, the color will fade in a few days.”

....Sniffle.... “Promise?”

“Yes, my sweet lamb. I made it myself. I know it will. Now.......come here, Mrs. Lelouch, and let me kiss you.”

“I look like a carrot," you whisper sorrowfully, barely able to get the word "carrot" out.

Clavis bursts into soft laughter, cupping your sweet but oh so glum face in his hands, gently wiping away the last stray teardrops.

“You are a most ravishing carrot.” He presses a kiss to the corner of your eye, cradling your cheek in his palm.

“I’m a pumpkin.” But your voice is wavering with the threat of laughter, a shadow of a smile on your lips.

“You are absolutely the most alluring pumpkin that has ever existed.” His mouth is by your ear, his teeth playfully nipping at your earlobe.

“I’m a clownfish.” You can't hold back anymore and your voice breaks with laughter on the word "clownfish."

His laughter intertwines with yours, creating the melody of a happy couple. He nuzzles your damp but still extremely orange hair. “You are the most attractive, beguiling clownfish in the whole sea.”

“Oh, Clavis.” You can’t stop giggling as you shake your head. He leans forward, pressing kiss after kiss to your lips.

“My beautiful sweet potato,” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours. “My exotic tangerine.” With a gentle push you fall back onto the bed and he is above you, a tender hand brushing the bright locks away from your face, his golden eyes aglow with affection.

“My darling, my sweetheart….let me show you how very much I adore you, always and forever, no matter what color your hair may be.”

Taglist 🧡 @bellerose-arcana @alexxavicry @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @queengiuliettafirstlady

@redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @olivermorningstar @writingwhimsey

@mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight

@ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @namine-somebodies-nobody @cellophanediamond @whatever-fanfics

@justpeachyteastea @chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @mastering-procrastinating

@portrait-ninja @starlitmanor-network @queen-dahlia @themysticalbeing @nightghoul381

@whitelittlebunny @chi-the-idiot @bubblexly

[gothhabiba]

To drive through the West Bank is to pass through a nature-scape of browns, oranges and reds. It’s rolling hills scattered with wild olive tree groves and crop rows, and views of sprawling cities in the distance, slightly obscured by the blur of a faint haze. That backdrop changes suddenly when confronted with an Israeli settlement. Desert shades are swapped for emerald greens, and olive trees for pine. Swaths of farmland suddenly host swimming pools and soccer fields, and dry farmland dry becomes lush greenery.

This jarring polarity is a constant reminder of the Israeli occupation, says Fokha, whose village of Tubas is encircled by such settlements. “They have all these things, and we’ve been stripped of our way of life,” he says. “All I want is enough water to sustain my family and my land.”

It’s also the most effective way to permanently damage the Palestinian food system, say multiple experts.

Given the dry conditions, water access long been weaponized in the conflict. So much so, that the Oslo Accords sought to address it. It stipulated that for an interim period of five years, Israel would gain access to 80 percent of the water pumped from the West Bank and Palestinians would get the remaining 20 percent. It also limited the amount of water Palestine could drill from the shared mountain aquifer, while allowing Israel unlimited access, and required Israel sell a pre-determined amount of water to Palestinians annually. B’tselem calls what’s transpired since a “largely manmade” water shortage that allows Mekorot, the state-run Israeli water company, to control the entire grid, giving preferential access to settlers while while hundreds of thousands of Palestinians live without for weeks every year.

Palestinian farmers all over the West Bank can no longer survive as a result. Fokha, who has been working the same land since he was 18 years old, only gets enough access to water to grow for one season—August to March—which halves his yield. The soil’s suffered from the droughts, so it can no longer grow watermelon, potatoes, and certain types of cucumber, he says. Yosef Salmon has been a farmer in Beit Jala, an area outside of Bethlehem, for nearly 45 years. He says there used to be five water springs in the Makhrour Valley. Today, he can access only one, he says. His neighbor, Basem, who asked to keep his last name private, couldn’t irrigate half his crops last year, so he lost money and couldn’t live off the anticipated harvest. “Without water, we can have no progress. Without water we can’t do anything. It is life,” Basem says.

—Carly Graf, "Food Is the First Frontier of the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict," 2019.

[gaelmartinewrites]

the werewolf and you pt ii (nsfw)

several months have passed since your passionate night in the forest with the werewolf. you’re still wet thinking about it. it was a night of passion. of freedom, that you long for still.

you spent every night in those woods for a month but you couldn’t find him. there was no sign of him. at first you thought maybe it was all a dream but you still feel him inside of you. you keep the night gown under your pillow. it still smells like him.

it’s a full moon tonight and these are the nights that you miss him most. the moon is too bright for you to sleep so you stare out your window waiting, hoping that the werewolf will come back and fuck you again. but it’s not only that. you stared into his eyes deep while he was inside of you and you saw the man. a man full of fire and passion but a sort of sadness that you can’t really understand but you want to.

that night was more than just a fuck, it was liberating. it was magical. it was something you needed your whole life.

the sky is still blue but you can see the shades of pink and orange slowly begin creep in behind the clouds. your family is inside while you finish taking down the laundry on the lines. you go inside and set the basket down by the door next your father’s boots. your mother is in the kitchen starting dinner and your sister is helping. you sit down next to her and help her peel potatoes. 

you love your family but sometimes you feel yourself getting more and more distant. they don’t mistreat you and you do not mistreat them but you feel like you need more to life than just them. your father wants to marry you off but it wouldn’t be to the person you love most but rather to the highest bidder. you’ve been called beautiful all your life and you were very young when you recieved your first marriage proposal. but you were too young and your father said no.

there was a time where you didn’t hate the idea of marriage. you wanted it, in fact. with a young man who was a year older than you. he wanted to marry you and take you away to see the world. he sang to you and told you stories of the world and its beauty. he told you that you were too beautiful to not see the world. you were infatuated but he was poor. no land and no money so your father said no. 

it broke your heart at first and you quickly learned that your father was right but you still hold on to the idea of love.

you and your mother finish cooking dinner while your sister sets the table. your mind still wonders to love and the wolf while your father talks about his day working the fields. your sister tells a story about something that happened in town while she was there with your mother. you don’t say much but your silence isn’t unusual. your sister and father are the talkers while it’s you and your mother who listen. 

you spend the rest of the night as usual. you and sister clean the dishes and the kitchen while your mother and father drink mulled wine by the fire. you join them as soon as you finish. you read while your sister and mother knit and your father smokes his pipe. smoke fills the room and it makes you feel lightheaded. you excuse yourself and you go to your room. it’s still too early to sleep, not that you would be able to anyway, but you get ready for bed anyway. 

time goes by while you stare out the window. the full moon is finally in the sky. the deep shade of blue reminding you of the sadness deep inside you. you lean against the window and close your eyes, the warm summer air caresses your skin and gently pushes your hair. the smell of flowers and trees tickle your nose. the forest is teeming with life but you feel empty.

you still hear your family downstairs, still too early to sleep but you think to try anway. you step off the bed and walk to the other side where a lit candle sits on a table by the door. just are you’re about blow out the candle you hear a howl.

chills run through your bones and your blood warms all over your body. you don’t think, you just run. 

you fly down the stairs and you startle your family. your father chokes on smoke and your sister lets out yelp. you don’t look at them and you don’t answer when you hear them yelling after you. you run straight into the woods and you don’t stop. you don’t know how long you run for, but you finally stop to catch your breath. you look behind you and you no longer see your house or even the smoke from the chimeny. 

you listen for more. another howl, anything to point you in the right direction. nothing comes for a few minutes before you decide that you’re just going mad and it’s all in your head. you turn to head back home when you finally hear another howl coming from that direction. you take a few breaths to prepare yourself for another run. 

before you break through the trees, you hear your family screaming. you run faster and break free from the forest’s clutches. you barely notice the stinging scratches that cover your arms, legs, and face. 

you see your mother with axe in hand and your sister with the fire poker. they’re yelling and crying but they’re standing their ground to protect their home. the wolf stands ten feet away from the house snarling and ready to attack. he could easily attack your family but he doesn’t and you take that chance to get between them. 

you finally see your father inside struggling with the rifle. he’s yelling orders for the others to come inside but they don’t listen. or a maybe they’re too focused on the creature in front of them that they just don’t hear your father behind them. 

you stand between your family and the wolf. the wolf takes a step closer and your mother yells for you to get in the house. you turn to her and tell her not to worry. you know what you’re doing. at least you pray you do.

your back to your family, you face the wolf. the same wolf from that night in the woods. his eyes are wild and red with fire. your family’s screams turn into a dull roar behind you. it’s only you and the wolf.

you lift a hand towards him and he lowers himself in a growl. you reach further until your hand is a few inches from his face. you look directly into his eyes and you see them soften into the man behind the wolf. he leans forward and places his snout into your hand. his wet nose sniffs your hand and you slowly move it to scratch the top of his head. his stiff body softens. 

the wolf lunges forward and you hear your mother scream. you hear your father finally cock the rifle and he tells you to jump out of the way. you don’t listen to your father or anyone but your own instincts and you jump onto the wolf’s back. you wrap your arms tightly but not too tight around the wolf’s neck and he takes off into the dark woods. the sound of a gunshot echos behind you.

****

you don’t know how long the wolf has been running but you know it’s miles between here and your home. the trees cover the sky so you’re in complete darkness. the wolf seems to know where he’s going and you trust him. he slows down to walking pace but he doesn’t put you down. you close your eyes for what seems like a few minutes but when you open them again you and the wolf are in front of an old cabin. 

it looks it was built a long time ago but it doesn’t look abandoned. it must be where the wolf lives the other days of the month. looks far away from other humans so it seems safe enough.

the wolf stops and lowers himself to the ground and you climb off. the moon shines bright over you like your own personal spotlight. 

the cabin stands in a small clearing with a small body of water a few yards away. tiny waves lap against the shore, the grass is soft and sweet as you walk over to the water. once at its edge, you slip off your night gown and you step into the warm water. when the water is deep enough, you take a dive and you swim underwater.

the moon still lights your way underneath the warm and mostly empty pond. you see a few fish swimming around but you don’t bother them and they don’t bother you. you resurface and see the werewolf waiting by the water’s edge. he looks a little anxious, or rather excited like a puppy sitting in wait for a treat or a toy. 

you motion and yell for the wolf to join you but he doesn’t. he only whimpers and pounces around. maybe he doesn’t know how to swim. you go back to shore and before your fully out of the water, the wolf grabs you and without hesitation sticks his cock deep inside you. you gasp like it’s your first breath ever and you wrap you legs around the wolf’s waist.

he grunts with every thrust as he fucks you in the air. you’re so close to the moon and stars; you reach out and you can almost touch them. you feel yourself falling and your grab the wolf’s fur to ground yourself.  you pull his fur a little but he doesn’t react so you pull harder. he snarls and wraps his teeth around your neck. he doesn’t bite but the pressure of his mouth drives you wild.

the wolf digs his claws against your ass while he bounces you up and down. you can’t take it anymore. you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. your wrap your legs tighter and move your hips in unison. you’re almost there and so is the wolf. he lifts his head and howls as he cums inside you. you howl with him.

after you both cum, neither of you moves. you hold each other in the moonlight and pant in harmony. you don’t want to move. you want to keep him inside you but eventually he lets you down. the wolf licks your neck and walks away. his cum dribbles down your leg so you go back into the lake to clean off. 

you find the wolf laying down in front of the cabin. the night is starting to get cold so you lay down with him. the warmth of his body warms you quickly and you soon fall asleep. 

a few hours later you wake up to the sound of splashing water. you’re still on the ground but you have a blanket warming you instead of the wolf. it’s morning and everything looks different. you look around for your wolf but you don’t see him. you stand up and walk over to the lake. you don’t see the wolf but you see ripples in the water like someone had dived in. you wait by the shore and soon a man surfaces. 

his eyes light up when he sees you and you know this is your wolf. his skin glistens in the sun and his wet hair sticks to his face and clings to his shoulders. you love his wolf form but you fall in love with him as man. 

he runs up to you with the energy of a puppy and hugs you. he spins you around and when he puts you down you look in his eyes and see the wolf behind them. his smile warms you like the sun. 

he’s shorter as a man but he’s beautiful nonetheless. his hands still hold you the same and make you feel powerful. he still makes you feel like your skin is on fire. you react on instinct and you drop to your knees and you wrap your lips around his cock. he gasps in shock but he doesn’t stop you. you places a hand on your head and pulls you closer until your chocking. you gag and your mouth fills with saliva and you use a free hand to pump as you move your head.

you move down to his balls and you take on into your mouth. you pump faster and your feel him tense up. he’s almost at the edge and you go back to his cock. you lick the head with the tip of your tongue and soon he cums. hot loads slide down your throat and you swallow every drop. he falls to his knees and he kisses you. it’s your first kiss and it makes you want to cry. 

he stops to look you in the eyes again and he tells you he loves you. you say it back and he leads you to the cabin. it’s your home now. he’s your home now.

[munson-blurbs]

IT'S SPOOOPY HALLOWEENIE!

Dum-Dum.* Kit Kat. Eddie.

*"I don't know what that is" - in an Australian accent.

Idiots in love/Artist!Reader/Eddie Munson

Warnings: drug use (weed), reader can be read as gender neutral, mention of Billy Hargrove, sitting on Eddie's lap

WC: 778

Divider credit to @saradika (also, Dum-Dums are a brand of lollipop)

Knock knock.

The sound of someone at the door startles you, drawing your attention from your unfinished sketch and to the curly-haired boy clutching a piece of paper in his ringed hand.

“Sorry, uh,” Eddie says with a nervous laugh, “didn’t mean to scare you.” When you don’t reply, he looks around the otherwise-empty classroom. “Is now a bad time, or…?”

You gather your thoughts, heart pounding a mile a minute at the sudden interruption. “N-No, you’re fine,” you stammer. God, he’s so cute. Cheeks tinged red with bashfulness, free hand shoved into his back pocket, frizzy curls brushing against his denim-clad shoulders. “Something I can help you with?” you ask when he remains standing in place.

“Oh! Um, yeah.” He shuffles over to you, as though reminding himself to put one foot in front of the other. “You draw, right? Like, sketches and stuff?” He winces at his stilted attempt at an opening, especially given the fact that your sketchbook is open right in front of you.

“Mhm.”

“Cool.” Eddie nods. “Could I ask you to draw this? It’s for my uncle’s birthday next month.” He hands you the photo, and your heart instantly melts. It’s a picture of him and who you assume is his uncle, and Eddie can’t be much older than ten years old. He’s wearing a blue shirt with an S in a diamond hastily drawn on the front. A faded red towel is tied around his neck in a makeshift cape. The older man stands behind him, half a KitKat bar hanging from his lips like a cigarette. “It was my first Halloween with him.” The first time I ever celebrated Halloween, actually, he thinks, but keeps that information to himself.

You carefully study the photo, careful not to leave fingerprints on it, even though there’s already a smudge in the corner. “I, uh, I don’t know what those stains are,” Eddie mumbles. “I can’t offer a lot of money, but if you smoke…” he mimics taking a pull from a joint, “I can hook you up for free.”

“You sure?” You wrinkle your nose. “I don’t want you getting in trouble or anything.”

Eddie dismisses the notion with a wave. “What’s he gonna do, call the cops?”

“Fair enough,” you agree with a smile.

You hadn’t realized that when Eddie had offered to smoke you up for free, he’d meant smoking with him. Over the next few weeks, any free time that wasn’t spent drawing the photo of him and his uncle–whose name was Wayne, you’d learned–you spent with him in a haze of marijuana. Sharing giggles, splitting family bags of potato chips when the munchies inevitably hit, snuggling up on his couch and sleepily watching sitcom reruns consumed your afternoons. To an outsider’s perspective, it looked like you two were together. Truthfully, you had no idea what you and Eddie’s status was.

“Oh! I almost forgot,” you sit up suddenly, shifting under the blanket and reaching for your backpack. “I finished this last night.”

Eddie’s bloodshot eyes go wide, and you swear that their glassiness is fueled by more than just pot. “This is…wow,” he breathes out, shaking his head in disbelief. “This is even better than I imagined.” He doesn’t know the technical terms for what you’ve done, but you’ve perfectly captured their enthused expressions, the joy in their eyes evident even just through pencil shading. “You’re amazing.”

And maybe it’s the compliment, or the high, or the way he’s been nestled into you for the last forty minutes, but you tilt his head towards yours and kiss him. Your mouths collide clumsily, and he seems shocked at first, but he quickly eases himself into it to deepen it. One hand cups your cheek while the other pulls you onto his lap so you’re straddling his lithe waist. 

“Wanted to do this for a long time,” he murmurs into you, not wanting to fully break the kiss. “Ever since I first saw you, I thought you were so goddamn pretty.”

“I’ve had a crush on you since you jumped on the cafeteria table and called Billy Hargrove out for leading all those poor girls on,” you admit with a laugh. “He turned bright red.”

Eddie inhales, shrugging his shoulders haphazardly. “Earned myself a pretty little black eye for that.” His nose nudges yours as he leans in to kiss you again. “But it was totally worth it if it meant you noticed me.”

You pull back slightly, taking in his beautiful brown eyes, the tiny patch of stubble where he’d missed shaving, the flyaway hairs on his temple. “Can I keep noticing you?”

“I’d be sad if you stopped.”

--

[potatoes-of-wrath]

I don’t normally do fanarts but I’ve been telling myself to draw Alcryst for like a year so here he is

[hezzabeth]

I know that a Miss Havisham costume in a playhouse should be more regency period… but that’s Whistleton’s theme. Anyway in todays part the gang head on off to Medieval Faire!

"If they had their way, they would have burned anyone with colorful hair, but that would mean losing most of their actors," Revati explained to Brigadeiro who had vaguely followed her into the cafes fridge.

“That would mean killing the entire population of my town” Bridgadeiro remarked.

“It’s not that I hate wearing dresses! Sometimes I love wearing dresses; I just hate being told what I have to wear by some stupid actors based on my reproductive organs,” Revati said to Bridgadeiro, who had vaguely followed her into the fridge.

“You would love the space station! Everyone wears whatever they want, in their assigned colors, of course,” Bridgadeiro remarked.

“I’m sorry, is there a reason why you’ve followed me in here? I need to get changed!” Revati informed him, and he had the decency to blush with embarrassment.

“Dreadfully sorry! I just wanted to let you know I’m done with the plant thing and wanted to ask if I could go home now,” Bridgadeiro asked.

“You can leave any time you like. I’m assuming you’ve figured out a way to stop yourself from freezing to death?” Revati asked as she pulled out a skirt.

“Ah, no, I had a special tent when I was rose collecting, but the chanting naked people stole it!” Bridgadeiro admitted.

Revati examined the skirt. It was one of Amma’s early creations, several burlap potato sacks that had been sewed together.

“Well, I'm not your mother; I’m sure you’ll figure things out eventually,” Revati admitted, and Bridgadeiro chuckled.

“Believe me, I know you’re not my mother; she would have called every single planetary embassy in the solar system!” Bridgadeiro replied as Revati wiggled the skirt off over her pants.

“Is it supposed to look like that?” Bridgadeiro asked doubtfully as the skirt sagged around Revati’s legs in awful shades of mustard.

“It will do,” Revati grumbled.

Dityaa and Aurora were waiting for Revati under one of the new trees. Aurora was wearing a long shapeless tunic belted at the waist. Dityaa, however, had put on a dress made entirely out of yellowing white lace and satin. The sleeves were gigantic clouds bursting from her shoulders. The bodice was cut right across the front with tiny pearl buttons. The skirt had been artfully torn in several places revealing layers of fluffy tulle. The hemline had come undone, and it was dragging in the mud. But none of it really seemed to matter. The dress made her glow.

“Is that what you’re wearing? The ragbag skirt!” Dityaa asked, sounding horrified.

“Is that what you’re wearing? That’s the Miss Havisham's wedding dress from the Dickensian theater! They will take one look at you and know you’re from a different part of the park,” Revati pointed out, equally horrified. No one performed in the actual theater, but everyone read the scripts left abandoned inside.

“It’s pretty! I want to look my best,” sniffed Dityaa.

“The character who wore it went crazy on her wedding day and then died in a fire! She also lived in the 1860s,” Revati pointed out.

“It’s fine, I took all the plastic spiders off it,” Dityaa waved casually.

“You probably should wear something better; the actors in medieval faire will assume you’re a peasant. They’ll make you dig latrines,” Aurora said to Revati.

“The dress I wore last night is filthy! I don’t have time to wash anything else,” Revati snapped back irritably as she marched to the cart.

“You could just borrow something from my collection,” Dityaa said.

“You once told me if I ever borrowed from your collection you would shave my head in my sleep,” Revati replied.

“I was thirteen! A child! Anyway, I can’t have you digging toilets; imagine the embarrassment,” Dityaa said, and then her eyes widened briefly.

“He will need to put someone on as well; that jumpsuit will get his throat slit,” Dityaa said, and Revati glanced over her shoulder. Bridgadeiro was standing a couple of feet behind her.

“I thought I could ask the naked chanters for my tent back,” he said.

“Fine, but you’re digging your own grave,” Revati replied, and Bridgadeiro’s brow wrinkled with confusion.

“Grave?”

“You know, the hole a dead body goes in,” Aurora said helpfully.

“That’s horrifying! Back home we don’t do that, back home bodies are turned into diamonds and then launched into space,” Bridgadeiro said, and a faint smile crossed his face.

“The memorial rings floating around the space station really are dazzling.”

“Fine, let’s quickly change our clothes and head out before Amma gets back from her daily walk,” Revati snapped irritably.

Medieval faire loomed over Olde Landon. "Loomed" really was the only word to describe it. The park architects had deliberately placed it in the castle on a giant hill in the park's center. Its gigantic craggy walls cast shadows all the way to Shakespeare Lane. The giant copper dragon could be seen all the way in Whistletown. On windy days, you could smell smoke spiraling from its towers. The smoke was the only proof Revati had that the actors and tourists inside were still alive.

“So, how do we get in?” Revati asked as Bridgadeiro helped her push the cart.

“The back way is in Marzipan Martian’s confections,” Aurora said, and Revati shuddered.

“You don’t like lollies?” Bridgadeiro asked.

“I don’t like ants; Marzipan Martians is infested with them,” Revati replied, shuddering again.

“Oh, come on, ants aren’t that bad! The parks on the space station are full of them,” Bridgadeiro replied as Aurora approached the lolly shop.

“Have you ever seen a Martian ant? They’re the size of your fist!” Revati protested.

Revati remembered the lolly shop before the invasion. In the window, there was a sculpture of the lost princess made entirely out of chocolate. Jars of hard-boiled sweets and rainbow lollipops had been arranged in intricate patterns around her feet. Revati had bolted inside holding Dityaa’s hand. The air smelled of burnt sugar and cinnamon. Massive rainbow bins filled with wrapped lollies sat on groaning tables. Tourists bustled about snatching up boxes of “genuine Turkish delight”.

A lady in a uniform stood in the corner demonstrating how boiled sugar was turned into lemon sweets.

Dityaa was begging mother for a “real” chocolate princess. “And what do you want, Revati?” Her father asked her. Was that when the sirens hit? Was that when the appliances invaded? Or did it all happen when they were in the toy shop next door? The ants had long ago eaten the chocolate princess. They had also managed to knock over and break most of the jars.

“The ants are fine, just leave them alone and don’t try to steal their eggs,” Aurora assured them as she opened the shop door.

The inside of the shop was surprisingly clean and orderly. Broken jars had been swept into orderly piles. The wooden shelves and surfaces were dust-free.

Someone had turned all the abandoned mint-green gift boxes into a pyramid.

“Did you do this?” Revati asked curiously.

“No, the ants did. They’re surprisingly intelligent in a busy, orderly sort of way! I sleep back here,” Aurora said, walking behind the shop's blue and white checkout counter.

“Wait, you sleep in a shop filled with giant ants? I never knew that,” Revati confessed as Bridgadeiro tried to push the cart in while keeping the door open.

“I knew,” Dityaa sang, swinging herself over the counter.

“You never asked, and it had nothing to do with our professional working relationship,” Aurora replied with a small shrug.

Aurora slept on a bed made out of old sugar sacks with a pillow in the shape of a lollipop. There was an old shoebox next to the nest where an ant lay inside.

“That’s Queenie; she’s not dead! Just sleeping,” Aurora explained before knocking on the wall four times. The wall slid aside with a faint whoosh.

A teenage girl was standing on the other side. A girl dressed in a green velvet robe with incredibly long, messy gray hair. Her soft blue eyes fell on Aurora briefly with a small smile before noticing everyone else.

“Hark, my sweet, who be these folk and for what cause do they grace our presence?” She asked in a peculiar accent.

“What does hark and doth mean?” Bridgadeiro whispered.

“This is my boss, Mistress Revati, her sister, and some random boy,” Aurora explained, and the girl sniffed.

“Mistress Revati, this is my girlfriend Isabeau,” Aurora said with a small smile.

Isabeau slowly stepped into the room, her head held high, walking towards Dityaa.

“Pray, art thou the lady Revati? Thou appearest more tender than mine expectations did foretell! Verily, I find favor in thy gown,” she said to Dityaa.

“Thank you! I found it sitting in a pile of ash; I think the appliances vaporized the actress wearing it,” Dityaa giggled.

“I’m Mistress Revati,” Revati corrected Isabeau, who briefly glanced at her.

“Thou doth make sense, though dost bear semblance to a barbarous witch, a crone of eldritch mien," sniffed Isabeau.

“Isabeau! Please try to be nice to my boss,” Aurora flushed with embarrassment.

“Yes, play nice or this eldritch witch will hack that wall down and flood your entire castle with giant ants,” Revati snapped back.

Isabeau merely turned away from Revati before turning to her girlfriend.

“I surmise thy lady doth desire something," she said.

“We need to melt this android in your blacksmith's forge,” Revati explained, and Bridgadeiro, who was holding the cart, waved.

Isabeau walked towards the cart, examining the android. Her gentle blank expression seemed to twitch slightly, like a rock being thrown into a still pool.

“If the Luddites espy this within the castle walls, verily, they shall take thy life," she said, holding up the android's hand, examining it.

“I’m sorry, did she just say someone will kill us?” Bridgadeiro asked nervously.

“They’re not going to see it! It’s not like we’re going to put it on display in the town center,” Revati pointed out.

“Conceal this abomination and follow me hence," Isabeau said, walking back to the gap in the wall.

The gap in the wall was actually the side of a small courtyard. Sitting on a wooden table were six beehives, vibrating gently in the chilly air.

“In hushed steps, proceed, for the bees in their winter slumber rest,” Isabeau whispered, walking past the hives to an arched tunnel.

[novamariestark]

Hiiii ☺️☺️

I’ve got an Alden Parker x reader request idea if you’re open to it! Basically the team is working a case where they end up  interviewing an older woman as a witness (older than Parker) who clearly thinks he’s handsome but he politely stays professional (we know Nick would tease him for it). But later he ends up meeting her granddaughter and this time he’s the one that starts flirting with her despite the age gap. 

A Tale Of Two Flirts

Summary: When interviewing witnesses, Alden finds himself in an awkward position when one of them starts flirting with him. But later on, he finds himself flirting with her granddaughter, you.

Warnings: quite possibly the worst thing i've written 😂 and I know I say that a lot.

Word count: 2777

Fandom: NCIS

Pairing: Alden Parker x f!reader

[A/N] I know this is bad, 😂 I’ve literally been working on this for like 2 months and every time I thought I’d finished, I restarted it because I just thought it wasn’t good enough. There isn’t that much flirting in here like the request asked and I hope that’s okay, it’s just that I flirt like a potato.

You may say to yourself, “Nova, potatoes can’t flirt,” Exactly 🤣

And the title is shitty too, I’m so sorry. But right now, I get started and I think I’m on a roll but then my brain’s just like “Haha bitch, just kidding”

Hope you like it though

The wooden steps creaked slightly under their weight. As they approach the door, Alden raised a hand to knock firmly against the wooden door.

Knock knock

The faint hum of a television could be heard from inside but the sound immediately disappeared and the sound of footsteps replaced it.

Alden took out his ID as the door flew open, revealing and older woman, early 70s, with bright blue eyes and slightly greying hair. He holds it up to her and Nick behind him, does the same thing, “Good morning, ma’am, I’m Special Agent Parker and this is…”

The woman smirked and leant on the doorframe, “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,”

A snort from behind him made Alden turn around and glare at the owner of the sound. He turned back to the lady.

"So, you saw the whole thing?" Alden asked, his brow furrowing slightly as he tried to steer the conversation back to the case. The witness he was talking to, a woman in her early 70s with silver hair and piercing blue eyes, seemed more interested in him than in answering his questions. Every so often, he could hear a snicker or a snort from beside him, where his partner Nick Alvarez sat, struggling to maintain a straight face.

“If only I did,” the woman said with a coy smile, her voice low and seductive as she leaned in closer. Alden's face turned a shade of crimson as he stole a quick glance at Nick, silently begging for help, but Nick was too busy trying to stifle his laughter.

"I was referring to the homicide, Mrs. Walsh," Alden explained, his voice maintaining a sense of professionalism even as a blush started to appear on his cheeks. Mrs. Walsh responded with a mischievous wink before replying…

“It’s Ms. Walsh,” she corrected him, her smile widening into a grin.

“Ms. Walsh," Alden corrected himself quickly, "Did you see who did this to Petty Officer Lindsey?” He asked, hoping to keep the conversation on topic. Ms. Walsh leaned back in her chair, her eyes narrowing as she thought.

She shook her head, “By the time I made it to the window, it was all over. I heard a lot of yelling and screaming,”  she replied. Alden and Nick continued to ask her questions and each of her answers included a flirty compliment in some way or another.

Just as the two agents began to walk away, the older woman spoke up again, "You know, dinner might make me feel better. What are you doing later?" she asked, giving Alden a sly smile.

Alden laughed nervously, again looking at Torres for help but he just smiled and walked away, “Probably solving the case, Ms Walsh,” he said politely and excused himself. He walked down the steps of the porch and headed towards Torres.

“Thanks for your help there, Torres,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his tone, “I really appreciate it,” Torres just shrugged with a smirk on his face.

The team headed back to the Navy Yard to continue the investigation. Over the course of the day, Alden had suffered at the hands of Torres’ endless teasing.  He thanked God that he drove over with McGee and not Torres, although his luck ended as soon as they all got into the elevator.

“So, Parker, when’s the special day?” Nick asked with the childish grin on his face, as if he’d just asked what he was getting for Christmas.

Jess and McGee looked at each other, with confused glances. Of course, they didn’t know what was going on, they weren’t there when it happened and Nick kept quiet in the car ride over here, wanting to save it until he was in the same room as Alden, and everyone else was around to hear.

“Wait, what special day?” Tim asked for both him and Jess.

Nick slapped a hand on Alden’s shoulder, his grin getting wider, “Parker’s getting married,”

“What?!” they exclaimed in unison.

“When did this happen?" Jess added, a confused look crossing her face. Two questions went through her head. How on earth did she not know her boss was getting married? And how did Torres keep his mouth shut about it?

Torres was about to speak, but Alden cut him off, “It didn’t,” Alden ran a hand down his face before continuing with the real version events and not Nick’s “There was just a witness that showed a… particular interest in me,”

“She wanted to see all of it” Torres continued, emphasising the word all, to convey that the woman desired to see Alden in his entirety.

“I take it you didn’t help him out?” Tim asked Torres. thinking he probably didn't. Why was he even asking?

Torres shook his head, “Of course not, it was funny,” he looked back to Alden with a smirk and asked, “Can I be best man?”

Alden scoffed, “No,” he said as he turned towards the door as it arrived at their floor.

Unfortunately for Alden, this continues throughout the day. By the end of the day, he felt like someone had been whacking his brain repeatedly with a hammer. He couldn’t wait to solve this case, go home and relax. Preferably before he gave into the urge to get out his gun and shoot Torres with it.

***

You met him on Saturday, when he came over to your grandmother’s to ask her if she recognised the suspect or if she’d seen her around.

You had arrived the day before after work and you were shocked to find the house next door was an active crime scene.

It being a Friday, you were headed to your grandmother's for the weekend. But as you walked from your car towards her house, you noticed her neighbour’s house covered in yellow police tape. “What the hell happened?” you asked yourself, your heart raced as you took in the sight before you. Your eyes widened as you noticed the broken window and the red stains smeared across it that you could only think of being blood. And considering the police tape, it wasn’t that much of a stretch.

The chill of the evening air nipped at your skin as you approached the scene, the flickering streetlamp casting eerie shadows on the ground. You pulled your coat closer to your body, hoping to shield yourself from some of the cold of the night or maybe the sight in front of you.

You couldn’t look at it anymore, so you continued on your way. The first thing you asked was if your grandmother was okay. After she reassured you that she was, you asked what happened.

She started to talk to you about what happened and how her neighbour was murdered and she was telling you everything she knew but somehow, for some reason, she began talking about something completely different.

A man. And it seemed that he had made quite an impression on her. So much so that you actually wanted to erase the last 5 minutes. The last thing you wanted was to hear your grandmother explain to you, in detail, all the things that she wanted to do to this man.

The next morning wasn’t any better. She began by telling you that she had a “lovely dream”, and she “hadn’t had one in so long”. You almost spat out your cereal at what she was hinting at.

“Gross, really?”

“Don’t be such a prude, how do you think I had your mother?”

You shuddered in disgust just as the doorbell rang and you couldn’t get out of your chair fast enough. You rushed over to the door, noticing two figures standing outside through the translucent glass.

As you opened the door, the two figures become clearer. Surprise briefly flashed on the face of the one lurking in the background before a smirk began to form. The one in front was looking down, fiddling with some papers.

“Sorry to bother you Ms Walsh,” he started as he continued, rummaging through the pages, “We just need you to look at some photos see if…” he stopped as he looked up at you, the words dying on his tongue.

Who is she? He thought. He looked to the side of the door at the number. 242, well he had the right house.

“Are you okay?” you asked him, he looked thoroughly confused.

“Yeah, sorry, I wasn’t expecting a beautiful woman to come to the door,” he stammered out, which you thought was cute but then again, was he calling your grandmother unattractive? He seemed to know what you were thinking and quickly corrected himself, “Not that your grandmother isn’t but y-you are,”

Realisation hit you. This was the agent that your grandmother was telling you about. When he turned around presumably for help from his partner, you took that time to check him out to see what the fuss was about.

To say you didn’t enjoy the sight in front of you would have been the biggest lie you told since you told your math teacher that you couldn't do your homework because your pet goldfish had a midlife crisis and decided to swim away with all of your textbooks.

Your eyes quickly returned to their previous position when his head began to turn back towards you.

“She’s just in the kitchen,” you said, lazily gesturing over your shoulder, “Do you want to come in for some coffee?” you asked them with a smile.

Alden opened his mouth to reply but his partner beat him to it, “That would be great, thank you,” he said passing Alden but not without patting him on the back. Alden followed you through the door, gently closing the door behind him and then following you towards the kitchen. As he did, he lingered behind, his eyes tracing over your figure, he was so lost that he almost let out an audible groan but your grandmother caught sight of him.

“Oh, Agent Parker, what a wonderful surprise,” she greeted as she came into the little dining area. Her hand patted her hair to make it look as good as possible.

Alden cleared his throat before responding with a nod, “Uh yeah, we just had some photos for you to look at,”

“I’ll help in any way I can,” she smirked, fiddling with the neckline of her shirt. You groaned, your face hiding itself in your hands.

Alden smiled awkwardly before placing the pictures on the table, spreading them out so each photo could be seen, “Do you recognise any of these people?” he asked, mainly to your grandmother because she was the one who lived here.

Your grandmother leaned in, purposefully close to Alden as she studied the photos. Your discomfort was evident on your face as you looked away momentarily, your eyes landing on the other agent. He seemed to be enjoying his partner’s discomfort and evidently yours.

Your eyes moved back to the photos when your grandmother said that she didn’t recognize anyone. Your eyes skimmed the photos and you did in fact recognize a few people in them, albeit slightly due to the quality of the pictures and the fact that they look like they were taken in the dark.

Your finger tapped the one closest to you first, “This is Jade, Sarah’s former college roommate and best friend,”

Alden scrunched his eyebrows and turned to look at you, “Are you sure? I know the pictures aren’t great,”

You pointed to the handbag that the figure was holding, “That is a Louis Vuitton. Jade got it a couple of months ago and she couldn’t wait to rub it in everyone’s faces,” Your fingers then hovered over the other picture, “This one is strange because it looks like Jade’s ex-boyfriend, Connor from college. They broke up because of her obsession with Sarah’s boyfriend,”

The two agents exchanged glances as if you had just given them a piece of the puzzle but that was ridiculous right? Jade was a stuck-up bitch, but she wouldn’t kill her best friend for a man… would she?

“Thank you,” Alden said, his eyes returning to you for as he began to pick up the photos. You notice how his gaze seemed to always linger on you, a little longer than his partner or your grandmother. She, of course, noticed this too considering she wouldn’t stop undressing him with her eyes.

After he collected everything, him and his partner slowly walked towards the door with you close behind to escort them out. They opened the door but stopped on the porch. Alden seemed to want to say something and it looked as though he was trying to talk himself into it.

“I hope you get who did it,” you smiled softly.

“We will,” the younger agent promised as he began to walk down the steps but stopped when he realised Alden wasn’t following him.

“There’s a uh… pastry shop, not far from here I want to try, do you know if it’s any good?” he asked finally after a couple of minutes of silently arguing with himself. Another argument started about how lame that starter was.

“Sugar & Spice Delights?” you asked with a small smile on your face, you nodded because you actually frequent there, “Uh yeah, it’s a great little shop, ask for Rhea and tell her (y/n) sent you, she may give you the friends and family discount” you said with a smirk.

“Or maybe you could accompany me,” he replied without missing a beat. His eyes closed and his head dropped. Why was he messing this up so bad?

You made a sound as if you were thinking about it and what come to mind was the fact that your grandmother seemed to like him a lot and it seemed wrong to say yes, no matter how much you wanted to, “Oh umm,” you paused looking over your shoulder when you heard footsteps approaching. Your grandmother of course and you were starting to feel bad, especially when she started to look at you disapprovingly.

“If you don’t say yes, I am going to have to disown you,” she said, causing you to lean slightly away from her, your eyebrows moving up towards your hairline.

You turn back to Alden with a small smile that only seemed to get bigger when you uttered the word “yes,”

Alden was beyond happy that you said yes, but also really surprised, especially considering the age gap. Over the course of your next few dates, you kept reassuring him that his age was anything but a concern for you, in fact it was kind of a turn on. In fact, you used the word experienced.

A month into your relationship, he wanted to show you just how experienced he really was. And he really was experienced. He knew exactly where to touch you at the right moment to have your toes curling and reaching for things that weren’t even there.

Pretty soon, after all your date to the little bakery, Alden qualified for the friends & family discount even when you weren’t there, much to the delight of his team. You got to meet them properly three months in which is exactly how long it took for Torres’ teasing to die down.

You were immediately bombarded with questions about you and what was Alden like outside of work, although, they mostly referred to him as Parker. Alden had told you about the teasing that Nick had put him through about you and your grandmother and he even asked if she was still interested in him, so you decided to have a little fun with him.

“Well, she always did have an eye for quality,” you said with a smirk, he was about to reply with some silly remark, but you beat him to it, “You should probably take notes, maybe you could learn something,”

Tim and Jess were in stitches, Alden was stifling his laughter but his amusement was evident by the smirk on his lips.

Once he got over the initial shock of what you just said, he walked over and held his hand out for you to shake, “Well played,” he said as you put your hand in his.  

Pretty much after that, you became one of them. You and Nick actually got on really well and aside from Alden, he was the one you spent most time with and occasionally Victoria when Jimmy and Jess needed some alone time.

But most of your spare time was spent with Alden either on cute little dates, or tangled in the sheets and each other’s limbs or as you called it… Heaven.

[decaying-distortion-2049]

Lana del ray, marina this the 1975 that but WHERE I ask are the edgy kids?!?! Ya know that weird 2014-2018 emo revival that we all just moved on from? I’m talking the emos that were around when TØP got a number one with stressed out, the emos cried over Mrs potato head, the emos that thought my Chem were coming back when the teaser for MCRX dropped on Halloween (LIKE AINT THAT THE MOST EMO SHIT YOU COULD THINK OF!) where are my edgy legends who remember the fall out boy fandom literally splitting in half over night when young and a menace dropped? Where are all the people (who I mostly found on this hell site) who collectively fell in love with Ryan Ross and made AFYCSO and pretty. Odd. A part of our personality. WHERE ARE ALL CRANK THAT FRANKS FORMER SUBSCRIBERS?!?!?!? My black veil brides girlbloggers who went to WAR with Juliet bloggers (if you know you know). The true edge lords who single handedly made suicide squad a cultural moment and deadpool their new favourite boi (HERE COME THAT BOI OH SHIT WHATSUP).

We were dealt a weird hand in the history of alternative culture, where the old ways were dying out slowly and the bands we loved were evolving into something more modern. We got some of the very best and very worse of music at the time. We all cried over Chester Bennington together. We strived for change while still respecting the best parts of 2000s emo and better treatment of POC and the LGBTQ+ community within our communities (we still aren’t 100% there but being on this site now makes me believe the alt kids now will do even better than we could). I can’t even get a fraction of all the things 2014-2018 edgy kids went though in this post there’s just so much, so if you’re out there still rotting away here on tumblr.com, and you happen to see this post, PLEASE tell me your fondest memories, your wildest bandom stories, your drama and tea and shade I want it all!! Sometimes I swear just me and my friends went though this weird emo phase and maybe it’s because I’m not on tik tok or instagram but it feels like this era of emo is just so overlooked in favour of classic 2000s MySpace emo (which is ironic because 2010s emos really wanted to be 2000s emos so bad but we just couldn’t bring ourselves to take….certain bands seriously or put raccoon tails in) it’s probably also because there wasn’t just emos, pale grunge and pop punks not dead and ethereal tumblr girls and Hollywood undead wannabes dominated at the time SO WHERE HAVE YOU ALL GONE?!?! YOU CANT HAVE ALL JUST GOTTEN OVER IT AND MOVED ON!

[ugh-yoongi]

ho ho horrible | jhs

(or, the one where your neighbor is a relentless christmas caroler and refuses to take a hint, but at least he's really hot.)

❆ pairing: hoseok x f. reader ❆ genre(s): neighbor au, holiday au, one-sided e2l | humor, fluff, smut ❆ rating: explicit. minors dni. ❆ warnings: vague non-korean setting. christmas. reader has a one-sided beef with hoseok's caroling and is extremely awkward. taehyung is here and he's weird, idk. there is smut in this but it is not super explicit and mostly flowery, so if ur only reading for that part i wouldn't bother. however, smut warnings: kissing, oral sex (f. & m. receiving), hobi touches himself. this was mostly an excuse to write both a hobi & a holiday fic. ❆ word count: 5.2k ❆ thank you: bee / @hot-soop, for beta'ing this for me and saying "oh shit this got real fast" and making me wheeze. thank u love u. ❆ a/n: idk. like i said, this was just an excuse to write a christmas fic before christmas. riding fakie kicked my ass and took me 500 years and i banged this out in, like, two sittings. the universe can be so cruel. that said, i probably won't be around much between now & new years day, so if you celebrate christmas i hope you all have a wonderful one. happy holidays, happy new year, cheers to 2023. ♡

Christmas has threatened to break you before.

That one Christmas where your parents had sworn up and down was just going to be the three of you, only to tell you at the last minute your entire extended family was coming for dinner and gifts, and then your horrible little gremlin of a cousin flung mashed potatoes into your hair and pushed you down the stairs and broke your arm? Your parents never invited them again, but yeah, you’d come dangerously close to an aneurysm that year.

Not to mention the first Christmas in your first apartment. You’d been running late, scotch tape and ribbon stuck in places they had no business being stuck in, and your phone was vibrating relentlessly in your purse as you waddled to the elevator, gift pile threatening to tumble over, and it was fine. You were going to make it to your car in one piece. Make it to your parents’ on time. Eat enough food to have you popping the button on your pants, and then compound the issue with dessert, and your cousins were going to be celebrating in their corner of hell rather than with you. Everything was going to be merry and festive and bright.

And then the elevator broke down and you were stuck in there for over two hours.

All that to say—you and Christmas have a sordid history, so you’re no stranger to yuletide stress. You’re stronger than this, forged in the flames of failed holidays past, and you’ve put that biological adaptability to use and soldiered on. This Christmas will not break you, but it’s certainly trying its fucking best.

“You look tired.”

Your gaze snaps up and to the left, where noted office menace Kim Taehyung is staring down at you over the ledge of your cubicle wall. He’s dyed his hair an offensive shade of red in an effort to win the department-wide holiday cheer contest. For the third year in a row. No one else even bothers to participate anymore. “I’m fine,” you answer, jaw clenched. You like Taehyung, but you haven’t had a proper night’s rest in almost a week. Not since—

“Why not?” he asks, genuinely curious and concerned and unaware of social norms. “Were you up late watching Home Alone? That’s relatable, honestly. I’ve seen it a hundred times and still can’t help but watch it every time it’s on. The sequel, too. I can’t decide which one I like better. The original’s a classic, but I love Tim Curry, so it’s hard to choose…”

You suck in a breath. Exhale and count to five, because you like Taehyung and don’t want to hurt his feelings, but—“No, I wasn’t watching Home Alone.”

“Oh. Why, then?”

A quick glance at your computer tells you it’s almost one o’clock. “Tell you over lunch?”

Sometimes you can’t believe your luck.

Because the universe is fair and just, the torture of Christmas is cancelled out by the ease of homeownership. As soon as you’d announced your intent to buy a house, everyone came crawling out of the woodwork with tips and this one weird trick! and horror stories about realtors, mortgage and insurance companies, god-awful sellers. You’d been spooked. Almost called the whole thing off to spend another year renting until you felt confident enough to go up against those stressors, but it… hadn’t gone like that.

It’d really been as simple as: get approved for mortgage, see house online, tour house, put in offer, sign a ton of paperwork, move in. Easy peasy; you couldn’t figure out why everyone had been complaining. You’d gotten your dream house in your dream location, quiet side street in a desirable part of the city, for under your max budget. The neighbor on your right baked you cookies to welcome you to the neighborhood. The house on the left had been home to a nice couple with a young kid until they decided to relocate to the suburbs, and it’d been empty for a while until—

“Your neighbor is a caroler?”

You nod, shoulders sagging as you spear your salad far too violently, and all Taehyung can do is grimace. No shit, you think, taking in his pained expression, try living next door to him. “A caroler,” you confirm.

Taehyung whistles low as he sinks into the booth, vinyl creaking under his weight. “Does he wear the little hat and everything?”

You pause, fork halfway to your mouth. “No, just normal clothes, I think.”

“Bummer.” He pouts. “I like the little hats. Wait, what do you mean I think?”

“I mean I think,” you reiterate. “As in I don’t actually know, because I shut off all the lights and pretend I’m not home every time they knock on my door.”

Taehyung gasps, really selling that you’ve mortally wounded him with this piece of information, and you think it might be a little overdramatic. So what if you don’t answer the door? You’re a young, single woman who lives alone and has listened to true crime podcasts—of course you don’t answer the door. You don’t answer it for anyone!

“How could you?” Taehyung accuses, which prompts an eye roll from you.

“I’m a young, single woman who lives alone and has listened to true crime podcasts—”

“Which are exploitative and capitalize on suffering and paranoia, not to mention are usually nothing more than free PR for cops—”

“Well, I don’t listen to them anymore!” Taehyung seems appeased by this, so you continue. “My point is: I don’t answer the door for anyone. Not delivery people, not the Mormons, definitely not the Jehovah’s Witnesses, and not Christmas carolers. It’s nothing personal.”

Your coworker quirks an eyebrow. “Except it is.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

Taehyung hums. He’d ordered a sandwich the size of his head and has barely put a dent in it, so you’re going to be here awhile. “Have you tried asking them to not carol in front of your house?”

“I don’t think it matters,” you concede, frown deep and unattractive. Are you being dramatic? It feels like you’re being dramatic, but you’ve already committed to the bit. “They stay on the sidewalk and that’s public property. Didn’t stop those shitty campaign people from sticking the signs in that little strip of grass last month.”

“Ugh, I forgot about that guy. At least he lost.”

“Amen, brother.”

Taehyung scrunches his nose. “Yeah, maybe don’t say that ever again.” Fair. You nod. “Hm. You think one of those ‘no solicitation’ signs would work?”

“Is Christmas caroling considered solicitation?”

Half of the turkey slides off Taehyung’s sandwich when he picks it up, bread gone soggy under the weight of mayonnaise and time, and you reckon now’s as good a time as any to find out.

What you lack in competent cousins and considerate neighbors you make up for in friends.

Friends in high places, specifically. Friends you can call in emergencies, which is why you’re locked in your bathroom, phone trembling against your ear, as the muted sounds of caroling trickle in from the street. You’re nearly in its grasp, which is why you’ve had to act quick: lights off, military crawl along the floor, pick a room with no street-side exterior windows.

Seokjin sighs. “Taehyung said you were being overdramatic about this. I should’ve listened.”

“Listened to what?” You roll your eyes. “I’m not asking you to break me out of my house. I simply called to ask you, an actual lawyer, a person who knows the law, if Christmas caroling is illegal.”

“You do need a permit in some places, yes—”

“A-ha!”

“—but this is not one of them. Your annoying neighbor is free to Christmas carol to his heart’s content.”

A groan escapes you, and you pull your phone away from your face to check the date. December 11th. Just two more weeks, and then you’re free for an entire year. Surely you can make it two weeks, right? A fortnight. Fourteen days. Three hundred and thirty-six hours. Once you’re past the holiday and things cool off, maybe you’ll borrow a play from your normal neighbor’s book and drop off please stop harassing me with your Christmas carols cookies.

You’re halfway to deciding which flavor (M&M, because they can kind of look like miniature carolers if you squint, or oatmeal raisin because they’re disgusting and you want him to suffer a little) when the troupe starts on a new song. A louder one. Enough of a volume change that even Seokjin can hear it, and he starts doing that honking windshield wiper laugh at your expense.

Fuck cookies. You should really burn his house down instead.

Big cities aren’t actually all that big.

Your mother says she’s finally sick of cooking, so you’ve been tasked with bringing side dishes to Christmas dinner this year. Which is fine. Learning how to cook for yourself had been relatively easy, to the point you’d run a Learn to Cook 101 weekly lesson at your on-campus apartment for all your hopeless friends. And hopeless friends of friends. In return, they taught you how to roll joints and do keg stands, so it’d been a worthy trade-off.

Still.

Your parents are woefully behind on current food trends, so your comment about bringing a sushi bake as an appetizer had been met with incredulous silence. Sushi isn’t high on your parents’ takeout list, and after you’d taken them to the nice hibachi restaurant in town and your father ate his California roll with a fork, you’d been too embarrassed to try again.

Anyway—the point is: big cities aren’t that big, because you’re standing in the seafood section of the largest supermarket within fifteen square miles, and everything promptly goes to shit.

“Hey, do you know if they ha—oh, shit, hey! You’re my neighbor!”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Do a really good impression of that meme gif of the guy blinking. Because this can’t be happening. You specifically go to this supermarket because it’s not the one around the corner from your house and also isn’t the one closest to your office. No one was supposed to be able to find you here, yet here’s your caroling neighbor, bundled up tight with a beanie shoved over his head, tips of his ears folded over so he looks like a little elf. It’s sick.

But you’re a professional, if nothing else (you’d argue mature, but can concede that hiding in your own home with the lights turned off to avoid the man grinning at you is not very girl-boss of you), so you offer him a tight-lipped smile. “Hi. I am your neighbor, yes. Hello.”

“Wow, what a coincidence, huh?” He laughs, and it sounds like Christmas bells. Who in the fuck is this guy? No, really, who is he? You can’t remember his name for the life of you. “You… have no idea who I am, do you?”

It’s the way his face falls further with each word. Makes you feel guilty and awful, and it’s a terrible feeling. Has you wanting to say things like no, of course I know who you are and drop his name, his parents’ names, ask him about that work thing, that person he’d mentioned he was seeing in passing. But you know none of these things, so you just suck in a breath and say the first thing that comes to mind, which is: “Of course I know who you are.” You feel your eyes narrow. “You’re my annoying caroler neighbor.”

That was… not what you were going for. You should apologize, try to find some way to salvage this, because you’re only here for salmon and imitation crab and now you’ve dug yourself a hole that’ll ensure your great-great-grandchildren are still feuding.

But he just laughs. Snaps his fingers and points at you in a way that’s jokingly serious as he says, “I knew it! I knew you’ve been home this whole time!”

Suddenly you aren’t feeling so apologetic anymore. “And you’ve persisted? Did you ever stop to think I didn’t want to be bothered?”

The answer to your question is no, judging by the look on his face. All-knowing you are not, so you’re not going to waste time decoding it when all you came here for was salmon and imitation crab. You really should’ve gone to the Asian supermarket instead, because a place like this is highly unlikely to have furikake, anyway, and you could’ve avoided this entire mess. Now you’re engaged in an awkward stare-off with your neighbor, and the two of you are going to part ways and still have to live next to one another.

“Oh, I—”

The butcher calls your number. You should’ve bought the prepackaged stuff in the freezer, but no, you had to be bougie and difficult. “It’s fine,” you say, holding your hand up. Just the imitation crab left now, you can do this. “Happy holidays. Please leave me alone.”

You are never making sushi bake again.

On a normal evening, the caroling would start just after seven.

This explains why you’re currently lying in bed, the only light from the television (Taehyung be damned, you are watching Home Alone), full of nervous jitters as the clock on your phone tells you it’s just turned 6:59.

Is your neighbor the vengeful type? Will you finally be granted reprieve now that you’ve had an embarrassing supermarket encounter, or will he tell his caroling troupe to sing as loud as possible to provoke you further? You shake your head. Sure, you’d only talked to him for three minutes, but his ears were folded over, for fuck’s sake—maybe you’re naive, but someone with folded-over ears doesn’t strike you as particularly malicious.

No, no, it’s going to be fine; you’re certain of it. You’ll deal with the embarrassment later.

Except ten minutes pass with… nothing. No muted singing, no perfectly-pitched renditions of Oh Holy Night (which you’ll admit was actually enjoyable), no hushed giggles when someone inevitably sang the wrong word. There’s just silence, and it’s exactly what you’d asked for, but it still feels off-putting after suffering through the opposite for so long. Instead, your doorbell rings at half-past, and this is it, you think, my neighbor’s going to be out there with a bomb.

Unsurprisingly, it’s not a bomb. There’s nothing on your front steps except a little gift basket—homemade, judging from the wrap job. A peek through the clear cellophane tells you there’s a bottle of wine and some cookies in there, and there’s a note card stapled to the front that tells you it’s from your neighbor.

Sorry about the noise. Didn’t mean to bother you. Hope this makes up for it. — Hoseok

You grumble all the way back to your bedroom, only a brief pit stop in the kitchen for a wine glass. Homemade or not, Hoseok had spared no expense on the cookies: double chocolate chip, salted caramel, snickerdoodle, little spritz trees topped with nonpareils. You grumble again as you pluck out a gingerbread man. To your dismay, it’s delicious.

You overpour the wine—red, which’ll give you a headache, but you’re past the point of caring. There’d been a little bow tied around the stem. It’s horribly endearing and gives you a stomach cramp. On the screen, Marv takes an iron to the face. This feels a little like that.

“You should return the favor,” Taehyung suggests. The two of you are back at the same deli. He’s working on some kind of vegetable sandwich this time, having abandoned turkey after his last one had been such a mess. “It’s the polite thing to do. Squash the beef.”

You wait a second. One, two, thr—“Ha, squash!” He picks something yellow off his bread. “Get it?”

“Yep.”

He sighs, underwhelmed by your reaction. “You catch Home Alone last night?”

“I did, actually.”

“Cool.” He heaves another sigh, slumps further back in the booth. “God, this time of year is so boring. Work is dead, your neighbor ended your one-sided caroling turf war, and Tim Allen is a shitty conservative, so I can’t even enjoy The Santa Clause anymore.”

You can’t help yourself: “Didn’t you just say the other day that you loved that guy?”

“Tim Allen?” Taehyung looks confused. Also looks a little concerned, like there’d be something severely wrong with him if he had said that, but then he comes to. Glares. “I said Tim Curry! Tim Curry. You know, Dr. Frank-N-Furter? The guy from Clue? Ew, don’t you dare confuse them ever again!”

It should be a crime, how easy it is to provoke him. He’s off on a tirade before you have a chance to tell him you were fucking around, and by the time you’re back at your desk you’re absolutely certain you could write a biography on the guy.

Taehyung had been right about one thing, though: there’s absolutely nothing going on. Everyone has collectively abandoned the illusion of working and aren’t likely to pick it back up until after the new year, so you’ve got nothing to do but scroll endlessly on the internet and spin in your chair until you feel sick.

Maybe you’ll resume the turf war just for something to do.

“Your father says not to bother with the sushi bake,” your mother says. “He thinks it’s too weird.”

Your jaw drops, eyes glancing at the pile of ingredients on your counter. What are you gonna do with all this stuff? How long does imitation crab stay good for? “Are you serious?” A distracted hum comes through the phone. “What am I supposed to do with all these ingredients, then? Can’t he just suck it up?”

She tuts. Years of putting up with and accommodating your father’s pathetic palate tells you she’s probably on your side, but she’s not going to admit it. “I don’t know, honey. It’s the holidays. Can’t you bring it into work?”

“Mom.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Do you know what happens to people who bring fish into the office?”

“Well, I don’t know! Give some to your friends! Have leftovers!”

None of your friends want a sushi bake. You don’t even have to ask. They’d accept it out of politeness only, but you can almost guarantee it’ll either get tossed or brought along to their own holiday parties. Oh, no, I didn’t make this, they’ll say. It’s from a friend, but I wasn’t going to finish it all on my own, so here it is! That’s mortifying and you won’t allow it.

“Didn’t you say your neighbor brought you some cookies? Maybe you can return the favor.”

You’re lucky your mother can’t see you roll your eyes, because what a traitor. Taehyung suggesting the same thing had made sense. He’s never had a sense of loyalty. Wouldn’t know it if it came up and bit him in the ass, but your mother? The same mother that heard your complaints about this same neighbor and commiserated with you? She has one thing, and it’s the audacity.

But you aren’t going to argue with her. “Ah, yeah,” you say, voice laced with faux impression, “great idea. Thanks.”

“Of course, sweetheart. What are moms for?”

Not loyalty, clearly.

Everything has truly come full circle.

Here you are, standing on Hoseok’s front step, fist raised to knock and embarrass yourself by dropping off a fucking sushi bake. Not cookies or chocolates or anything else that could pass as Christmas fare—sushi bake. May God please strike you down.

You wonder if Hoseok will turn all his lights off and pretend to not be home. It’d be justified, and if it weren’t for the shadows of movement through the curtains, you’d just drop it off and go back home. Surely it’s cold enough outside to keep it fresh until he returned from caroling. But no, here you are, waiting for him to answer the door because sushi bake requires an explanation.

“Oh! Hello, neighbor!”

(God is fair, because you were not struck down to spare potential embarrassment, but you have been spared from the little elf ears again. A blessing. There’s no way you’d survive those again.)

“Hi,” you respond, thrusting the casserole dish in his direction, perfectly playing the role of a person who has never once met another human. “It’s sushi bake.”

Hoseok computes for a moment. “Sushi bake,” he repeats, like he’s learning an entirely new concept. What is it with men and sushi bakes? “Wow, cool, thank you.” He takes it from you with a smile, radiating pure sunshine. “That’s dinner sorted, then! Is this what you were at the grocery store for?”

“Uh, yeah.” You fidget, feeling awkward without anything to hold. What are you supposed to do with your hands now? You shove them in your coat pockets. “I was gonna make it to bring to my parents’ for Christmas dinner, and then my mom called today to tell me not to because my dad thinks it’s too weird, so, well. Here I am. Paying you back for the cookies with the worst food gift of all time.”

“I think it’s pretty great,” he answers, another dazzling smile lighting up his face. “You didn’t have to repay me for the cookies, though. I still feel really bad about the noise.”

“I—it’s fine,” you say. “Um, well. Enjoy… that.” You turn to leave, nearly slipping on a patch of ice and braining yourself on the brick step. “Have a great night.”

You think Hoseok asks if you’re alright, maybe mumbles something about needing to re-salt the steps and he’s sorry about that, too, but you’re down the sidewalk and back in your house before he can finish. Embarrassment warms your cheeks, and you wonder when you became incapable of talking to men. You roast Taehyung on a near-daily basis. Something must be terribly wrong.

(“Ooh, this is getting spicy,” Taehyung says, foregoing your cubicle wall to park his ass on your desk entirely. “Picture this: Two star-crossed lovers, unable to be together because of the Holy Caroling War. There’s a feud, they become enemies, and then—”

“Don’t you have work to do?”

“No, and don’t interrupt me. Now, where was I?”

“Don’t remember,” you lie, and you resume your task of writing down things Taehyung’s hair reminds you of on sticky notes and adhering them to his body.

Elmo. The uniform jackets of those British guards with the silly hats. The Chicago Bulls mascot. Clifford the Big Red Dog. Cartoon cows. Cinnabar. A crayfish. General Thaddeus Ross aka Red Hulk—

“You’re jealous, I get it,” Taehyung quips, exasperated, as he peels a neon yellow note from his thigh. “Anyway, as I was saying. Are you gonna tell your neighbor you’ve got a big, fat crush on him?”

You don’t bother with a response. Instead, you jot down a giant gaping asshole on another note and stick it to his forehead.)

It becomes a… thing, after the sushi bake.

Hoseok feels guilty accepting your kindness, so he drops off a container of homemade radish kimchi. You feel guilty he’d done that, so you drop off some soup. This is unacceptable, but on and on it goes until you catch him leaving a vibrant poinsettia on your steps.

“What are you doing?” you ask, and you startle him so badly he topples backwards off your stoop, taking the poinsettia with him. Dirt shoots into the air like a cartoon, and it’s a struggle but you contain your laughter just enough to dart over to where he’s lying in a sad little heap on the concrete. “Jesus, are you alright?”

You extend your hand and he’s a little dazed, but he takes it after a second. “Ow. Yeah, I think I’m okay.”

“Are you sure? It sounded like you hit your head kind of hard.”

He groans. “Think I hit the trashcan on my way down.”

Gross. “Oh. Okay, I’m going to help you up now.” Once he’s upright, you give him a once-over and deem him physically unharmed. You can’t speak for his ego, but you can imagine it’s bruised. “Do you want some hot chocolate or coffee or anything?”

Hoseok shakes his head, which prompts another pained groan. “No, no, I think I’ve been enough of a bother.”

“I insist,” you insist, because you’ve truly lost all common sense. “It’s the least I can do.”

He looks skeptical. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Besides, we can call it even after, right? Your drink of choice for the poinsettia.”

You learn a lot about Hoseok in the span of an hour.

You learn he’s got a contagious laugh and a smile to match. You learn he’s genuinely kind, which makes you feel like pond scum. You learn that he loved your sushi bake and had even taken a picture of it to send to his mom, who said it looked “very cute,” whatever that means. You learn he’s relatively new to the city and that he works from home, so he’d joined the caroling troupe because he was lonely and wanted to make friends, which makes you feel like whatever’s lower than pond scum.

“Earth scum,” you mutter to yourself, and you say it so quietly Hoseok cocks his head to the side like a confused puppy. “Oh my god.”

You learn his friends call him Hobi and that his family lives in Gwangju, which is why he hasn’t traveled home for the holidays. Couldn’t get the time off, he explains, and says it’s okay because he’s going for his birthday in February. Your girlfriends (of which Taehyung is one) would warn you off an Aquarius man, but you take one look at Hoseok’s golden retriever personality and figure he can’t possibly fit the stereotypes.

Whatever. Who are the stars to tell you who is and isn’t the love of your life?

You learn that he knows all the words to Frozen, that he sings all the songs loudly and without shame and that you don’t mind this kind of singing. Not when it’s in your house. Not really when it’s him. And that kind of unabashed joy—Hoseok so unapologetic about who he is—it… does something to you.

Hoseok is kind and endearing and really fucking hot.

So you also learn what it tastes like when you kiss hot chocolate from the corners of his mouth. How it feels to thread your hands in his hair, the noises he makes when you tug. You learn what it feels like when he digs his fingertips into your hips, hauling you into his lap. How serious he becomes, a flipped switch, how that heart-shaped mouth straightens out and his eyes lose that glimmer, all business.

You learn the husk his voice takes on when he urges you closer. How he’s enthusiastic about consent but doesn’t ask for anything, just directs you how he wants you, says, you like it like this, don’t you, baby. You do.

Some horrible Christmas song plays on the television in the background. There’s no condom, not within arm’s reach, so Hoseok gets you off with his mouth. Throws your leg over his shoulder, tells you how good you taste, and you learn how quickly you can come undone in the hands of someone who knows what they’re doing. Then you look down and learn Hoseok’s touching himself, couldn’t wait, he says, and you surprise even yourself when you swat him away and tell him to come in your mouth.

“Oh shit—fuck,” he says, but he’s upright fast, hand still gliding along his slick cock. Salt blooms on your tongue from the precum, but you learn how perfectly he fits in your mouth. You learn he sounds fucking divine when he spills over the edge.

You learn he’s a cuddler, and that you already like him way too much.

It’s Christmas Eve, and everything’s going to go right this time.

You can smell the success in the air, so winter-crisp it stings the inside of your nose. All of your gifts are wrapped to perfection. The roads are clear. No elevators to get stuck in this year, and last you’d seen your cousin was spending the holidays on the opposite side of the country, far away from you, so you’re feeling good. Got a pep in your step.

And then you lock the door behind you and there’s Hoseok, taking out his trash in a plush robe and reindeer slippers. He’s got light-up antlers on his head, and the butterflies in your stomach turn into more of a swarm. The two of you have kept in touch, sure. Made plans to go on a real date after the holiday chaos died down, but it’d been easy to tamper down those feelings when you didn’t have to see him.

“Hello, neighbor,” he says, and it’s Christmas Eve and he’s clearly got nowhere to be, can’t make it to see his family, and he’s still smiling. It makes your chest ache.

“Hi. What are you doing?”

The smile doesn’t falter at all. “Taking out the trash?”

“But it’s Christmas Eve.”

He laughs. The Christmas bells are back. God, you are so fucked. “Ah, yeah, I suppose it is, huh?”

“You don’t have plans?”

He shrugs. “Nope. Well, nothing besides some spiked eggnog and the Christmas Story marathon.”

That sounds nice, you think. “Oh, that sounds nice,” you say, and then the next words out of your mouth come unbidden: “Do you want to come with me? I’m going to my parents’ for dinner, which probably sounds… uh, rushed. And super weird. But it’s really low-key and they’re really nice, and I feel bad leaving you here by yourself and not inviting you. Don’t feel obligated, though! I just thought—”

“Do I have time to change?”

Dumbstruck, you just nod. Hoseok presses a kiss to your cheek and disappears inside his house, reemerging five minutes later dressed impeccably. Your mother’s going to swoon, and even though she’s not going to see it because she never checks her phone, you send her and your father a warning text. Bringing my neighbor, don’t ask, set up another spot at the table.

Just like you’d thought, your mother is overjoyed. You’ve only ever brought one person home for Christmas and that was back in college. A fling, called off before Valentine’s Day, so she’s been deprived of oohing and ahhing and talking a stranger’s ear off.

Hoseok is polite, a near-perfect guest, and your mother fusses over him while your dad talks about stocks and sports and whatever else. Something about mothers, they’ve always got a pile of emergency gifts stashed somewhere, and while you do the dishes, she dashes off to wrap some just so Hoseok has something to open. A cashmere sweater, a bag of gourmet coffee, some wool socks. This is too much, he insists, but it just makes your mother fuss over him more.

“Wait,” your father says, nearly melted into the couch after eating far too much, “weren’t you gonna bring some sushi thing?” Your jaw drops. Hoseok laughs so hard he’s in tears on the floor. Your mother looks away quickly, guilt clear on her face. A traitor. You’ve always known it.

Christmas has threatened to break you before, but this might be the year it makes you whole.

as always, thank you for reading! my inbox is always open if you’d like to leave feedback. i’d love to hear your thoughts! ❤

[neonblessing]

9.

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT! ⚠️ Click here to read Neon Blessing from the beginning!

“Look, you don’t have to give me a map. Just point me in the right direction.”

“Shiv, kid, I get it. You want revenge. But-”

“I don’t want revenge,” she said. She wasn’t certain if it was a lie.

“Then what do you want?”

“Answers.” Hell, she didn’t even know the finer points of what the two of them had stolen. The house had been full of valuable art, they’d passed a poorly-hidden wall safe on the way to the owner’s office, and they ignored it all in favor of the data drive that had sat atop a messy stack of papers. Ornarch hadn’t told them what was on there, just that it would go for a hundred thousand credits at a minimum, or a million from the right buyer. Most drives its size were just something convenient to hold, with the data itself stored on a chip a few nanometers thick. Whatever was on that drive had been complex enough that the whole damn drive was dedicated to memory. A sphinx glinted darkly on its surface, mirror finish set into matte black. There was something captivating about its sheer scale and the precision of its construction. Something a little sinister, too. Then he had shown up, and the rest of the night was a blurry nightmare of burning, screaming, and blood.

Kooler pursed his lips. “And once you have those answers, what are you going to do?”

“My job. Ornarch wants me to-”

Kooler’s eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head. “Isn’t your job breaking and entering? At least, I think that’s what you told me the first time we met. Forgive an old man’s memory for its failings, but I think I would have remembered hearing a teenager call themself an executioner.” He suddenly sounded very old, and very tired.

“Maybe I’ve changed. Why do you care?” It came out a little colder than she’d intended it to.

“Sorry, sorry. You’re right. None of my business.”

“So you won’t help me?”

“Staying neutral is how I stay alive. Everyone knows old Kooler keeps his mouth shut.”

“That’s a no?” Her heart sank. She’d known it was a long shot, but even still, Kooler was the closest thing she had to a lead.

Whatever he saw in her face gave him pause. “I… offered them ten thousand for the drive. I don’t even have half the hardware it would take to decrypt that… monster. I told them I wasn’t paying a credit more than that for a piece of software I couldn’t validate, no matter what rumors I’d heard. They took their business elsewhere. I don’t know where.”

“Rumors?”

“Have you been online since you stole it?” She hadn’t. “Half of the criminals in the Diluvian District are hunting after that sphinx drive. It’s anyone’s guess what’s on there, but Ebrelurge put a bounty out on it and then a few gang bosses joined the bidding war. As of this morning, the best offer is 1.6 million.”

Lord of birds. One point six fucking million?

He went on. “I don’t know where they went, but I know someone who might. Don’t go telling everyone I lent you a hand, but you’re- you’re a good kid. Just- hear them out when you see them. Don’t rush headlong into being a killer.”

“Yeah.”

Kooler pushed off the counter, sending his chair on a practiced arc towards a shelf of folders in one corner of the shop. He returned bearing a business card, a thin sheet of crisp white plastic stock with “Club RED – 1191-3962” embossed on it in brilliant crimson. The back side of the card was decorated with a staring eye in the same shade. “Kurtz–the owner of Club RED–knows me, and she’s got a panopt. Ask to see Odie. If it can’t help you, no one can.”

Shiv grinned. “Thanks, Kooler.”

“I’d say ‘any time,’ but really I’d rather not stick my neck out again.”

“With any luck, you won’t have to!”

The door squealed as she left.

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